Keane: Blackwood Academy Rogues

“Darling, get your fingers out of your mouth. It’s a disgusting habit.” Mother sneaked a horrified glance at me, reaching over to slap my hand away from my lips. I’d been chewing my nails, a nervous habit since kindergarten.

“Sorry,” I muttered, but my apologies meant nothing, not to her.

“Oh, this must be it,” she said instead, popping up on her tiptoes as a small ferry boat pulled slowly up to the port, horn blaring. I hissed a breath of air between my teeth and yanked my jacket tighter around my neck. In the sky, thunder cracked, threatening a storm. I shivered, clutching the single duffel bag I’d been allowed to pack close to my body. Back home, probably being burned in a barrel by my stepfather, was the rest of my belongings. Everything. My whole life.

“Chin up,” Mother said, shooting a look at me as the boat docked. A shock of sudden fear slithered up my spine, and I took a single step back, feeling all the hidden emotions I’d been shoving down rise to the surface. Three large, burly men stepped off the deck and onto the dock, spotting us a second before heading in our direction.

“Eveline Bloom?” The largest of the three men asked. Mother nodded, tilting her head at me.

“That’s her. My daughter.”

I expected the men to introduce themselves and explain what would happen next or something, but none of them did.

“Let’s go,” the second guy said to me. “They’re expecting you.”

Caught off guard, I turned to look at Mother, hoping I’d see something other than evident distaste on her face. But it was there. Still.

“You’ll visit?” I asked meekly, and Mother sniffed.

“I guess that depends on your behavior.”

“I want to go home,” I insisted, avoiding the intense gazes of the men in front of us. “You know I don’t need to go. I—I’m not a freak, and I’m not sick. I don’t belong at Blackwood Academy.”

“Max says it’s a wonderful school,” Mother said haughtily. “An excellent substitute for a state college.”

“Then let me go to a real college, Mom. I don’t belong here, I’m telling you. Max is wrong.”

“Enough chit-chat,” one of the men said, reaching out to take hold of my arm. His large, calloused hand felt like a metal vice around my arm, and I winced, pulling back, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

“Don’t make me go,” I begged as the second guy grabbed my duffel bag like a sack of trash. “I’ll apologize to Max and Bentley both. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”

The chiseled frown on my mother’s face only tightened as she shot daggers at me with her eyes.

“Maybe this place will teach you not to cry wolf so often,” she said steadily. “Maybe it will teach you some respect.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I relented, falling limp as the asshole with his hand on my arm pulled me toward the boat. I didn’t feel like a student or even a patient. I felt like a fucking prisoner. This couldn’t be right, could it?

“You’re hurting me,” I cried, trying to wrench my arm out of the man’s grasp as he squeezed harder, pulling me after him onto the boat. It rocked beneath the waves, catching me off guard. I stumbled just as the man’s hand released my arm, falling hard onto the wooden deck with a yelp.

“Let’s go,” the big man called, stepping past me as though I wasn’t even there to signal at the captain. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stood up, steadying myself on the railing. Blood from a scrape on the knee trickled down my leg, and my palms stung as I turned to see if my mother was still standing at the end of the dock.

No one was there. I was officially on my own.

“Come with me.” The second of the larger guys passed by and took my upper arm, though far more gently than the last one. I followed him willingly, because I knew I had no choice. The ferry was already leaving the dock, and I knew we wouldn’t get to Blackwood for another half an hour or so.

The guard led me into the ferry’s cabin. It was warmer in here, and considering I didn’t have a jacket made it that much easier to oblige. I was surprised, however, when the man sat me down in a bench seat and proceeded to cuff me.

“What the hell is this for?” I demanded, glowering at him as he secured the cuffs.

“Safety measure,” he grumbled.

“I’m not dangerous.”

“All of our residents go through the same. It’s protocol. Besides,” he glanced sideways at me with a mocking grin. “We wouldn’t want y’all to jump overboard now, would we?”

“And you think cuffing my hands in the answer?”

With a smirk, the guard undid one of the cuffs, and then slapped it over a metal bar, pinning me in place.

“Just for you,” he said with a leering grin. “Welcome to Blackwood Academy.”