Chapter 2 THE BODY

There was an elevator right next to the stairwell door. Violet did not even look at it. She never looked at elevators. Not after what happened when she was fifteen. The memory was still sharp, the way the box had jerked to a stop between floors, the way the lights had flickered and died, the way she had screamed for twenty minutes before anyone came.

She took the stairs, and by the time she reached the third floor, her chest was tight and her heart was beating faster than it should have been.

The hallway up here was different from downstairs.

It was wider and brighter. The floors were polished dark wood instead of tile, and the walls were painted a deep cream with gold trim. Soft music played from hidden speakers somewhere above her head. It smelled like vanilla and something floral.

She walked slowly, counting the numbers on the doors as she passed. 301. 302. 303. The hallway seemed to stretch forever, lined with more doors than she expected.

Finally, she saw it. 307.

The door was different from the others. Dark wood, almost black, with a silver keypad glowing softly near the handle. Violet stared at it for a second, then pressed the numbers. 1-3-1-0.

A quiet click then the door swung open.

Violet stepped inside and stopped breathing for a moment.

The room was screaming luxury.

The walls were painted a deep charcoal black, with purple accents running through the trim and the furniture. A massive L shaped couch sat in the center of the room, covered in velvet that looked so soft she wanted to touch it. There was a gaming station against one wall with three monitors and a leather racing chair. A wine cellar built into the far corner, glass fronted and lit from within, bottles lined up like soldiers.

To her right, a walk in closet with the door already open. Inside, she could see rows of clothes hanging neatly, designer bags stacked on shelves, shoes arranged by color.

But what caught her attention most was the wall above the couch.

A portrait hung there, framed in gold. Four girls, all beautiful and all dressed in matching black dresses, their hair styled perfectly, their smiles captivating. The girl from downstairs was in the portrait, second from the left, her dark hair falling over her shoulders, looking nothing like the scared person Violet had just met in the hallway.

Under the portrait, a shelf ran across the wall. On it sat beauty pageant awards, five of them, all gold and silver and engraved with names Violet did not recognize.

On the opposite side of the room, a reading nook was tucked into the corner. A purple velvet chaise lounge sat beneath a window, and next to it, a small wooden sign leaned against a stack of books.

Don't disturb.

Violet shook herself out of the daze. She was not here to look around. She was here to grab clothes and leave.

She walked toward the open closet and started searching for something the girl could wear.

Violet grabbed the first thing she saw. A pair of black leggings and a oversized grey sweatshirt. She folded them quickly over her arm and turned toward the door.

That was when the door swung open.

Three girls walked in like they owned the place. Which, Violet realized, they probably did.

The one in front was blonde, tall, and sharp looking, with high cheekbones and eyes the color of cold ice. Her coat was long and black, and her boots clicked against the floor. Behind her came two brunettes, one with a short bob and the other with long wavy hair that fell past her shoulders.

The blonde stopped when she saw Violet. Her eyes narrowed.

"What's going on here?"

Violet held up the clothes. "I was just leaving. A girl downstairs sent me to grab—"

"Is that my clothes?" The blonde stepped closer, her gaze dropping to the leggings and sweatshirt in Violet's hands. "Why the hell are you with my clothes? How did you even enter here in the first place?"

"No, please. I was sent here by a girl. She's stained and she wanted me to come here to take some clothes for her so she could change." Violet pointed toward the portrait on the wall, toward the dark haired girl with the sharp smile.

The room went quiet for a second.

The blonde stared at the portrait, then back at Violet. "Cleo? She sent you?"

"I didn't know her name, but i guess Cleo. "

One of the brunettes already pulling a cigarette from her pocket, lit it with a silver lighter. She took a long drag and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. "That girl pisses me off sometimes. Why can't she just call us?"

The blonde's face hardened. "Since she can't call us and had to send a random person to our private lounge, we will teach her a lesson." She turned to Violet, her voice dropping to something cold and final. "You. Drop the clothes and get the fuck out."

Violet did not move. "She's stained. She needs something to change to."

"I said get out!"

The slap came fast and hard across Violet's cheek. Her head snapped to the side, and her skin burned where the blonde's hand had landed.

The blonde was still talking. "When I talk, you listen. You aren't supposed to be here in the first place."

She did not get to finish because Violet slapped her back.

The crack was louder this time. The blonde stumbled back a step, her hand flying to her cheek, her mouth hanging open. The two brunettes froze, the cigarette dropping from one of their fingers to the floor.

"You don't get to hit me and get away with it" Violet said.

She turned and walked out of the lounge, the clothes still clutched in her hand.

The door shut behind her.

Inside, no one spoke for a few seconds.

Candace slowly lifted her hand to her cheek.

"...Did she just hit me?"

No one answered.

Because they were still trying to process it too.

Candace let out a shaky breath, then grabbed her phone with stiff fingers.

"This is insane," she said under her breath. “Does she even know who I am?"

She dialed quickly, pacing now.

The call connected.

"Dad, I need you to help me deal with someone. I’ll find whatever information I can on her and send it to you.” She ended the call then she angrily smashed her phone against the wall.

•••

10 MINUTES LATER*

Cleo stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the waistband of the leggings Violet had brought for her. The oversized sweatshirt swallowed her frame, but she didn’t seem to care. She looked… relieved.

She turned to Violet.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I mean it."

Violet leaned against the sink, arms folded loosely. "It’s nothing."

Cleo hesitated, then sighed.

"And… I’m sorry about Candace"

Violet gave a small shrug. "It's fine"

A faint smile tugged at Cleo’s lips, but it didn’t last.

"She’s just… a spoilt brat," Cleo said, lowering her voice slightly. "Her dad is a senator. She grew up thinking rules don’t apply to her."

Violet didn’t respond.

"She will not forget this," Cleo added, meeting her eyes through the mirror. "So just be careful, okay? She already has her eye on you."

Violet straightened a bit, but kept her expression neutral. "I’ll be fine."

Cleo studied her for a second, like she wanted to say more, then shook her head.

"And I’m really sorry you missed your class because of me"

"It’s fine,"Violet replied.

Cleo nodded once, then grabbed her bag.

"I owe you one," she said before walking out.

The door closed.

Silence again.

Violet exhaled slowly and pulled out her phone.

She dialed quickly, pressing it to her ear.

"Hello?" Mrs. Caffrey’s voice came through.

"Hi… it’s Violet. I just wanted to check on Iris."

A pause.

Then, "She’s fine. She just woke up a few minutes ago. I fed her, she’s calm now."

Violet’s shoulders dropped slightly.

"Okay… thank you."

"No problem." The call ended.

Violet stared at her phone for a second before slipping it back into her bag.

Two hours until her next lecture and she couldn’t afford to miss that one.

She pushed herself off the sink and turned toward the exit.

That was when she saw it.

At first, she thought it was a shadow. Something dark, just barely visible at the edge of her vision and then it moved.

A slow line… creeping from beneath one of the closed stalls.

Violet frowned then stepped closer. Her heartbeat picked up, just slightly.

The closer she got, the clearer it became. Not water, not dirt.

Blood, but it wasn’t red. It was darker and thicker, almost black.

Her breath caught and for a moment, she stood there, frozen between walking away and finding out.

Then curiosity won. Her hand reached out, she pushed the stall door open, then froze.

A girl lay crumpled on the floor.

Her clothes were soaked, her body trembling weakly in a pool of dark blood spreading beneath her. Her face was pale, lips barely moving, eyes half-lidded like she was already slipping away.

Violet stumbled back a step, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh my God…" Her voice came out as a whisper.

The girl’s eyes shifted slowly and they landed on Violet.

Her fingers twitched, dragging weakly against the floor as she tried to lift her hand.

"R…ed…" she rasped. The word barely formed and then her hand dropped.

Her body went still.

Violet’s scream tore out of her before she could stop it.

She turned and ran straight into someone. A solid chest, dark hoodie.

Her breath hitched as she looked up.

The person was wearing a black mask, covering everything except his eyes.

Those eyes locked on hers.

"Hello there," he said quietly.

Suddenly, something hard struck the side of her head.

The world tilted sideways, the white tiles blurring into grey, the lights smearing into streaks. She felt her knees buckle. Felt the cold floor rush up to meet her.

Then nothing.

Violet Brooks lay unconscious on the bathroom floor, the blood of a stranger pooling inches from her face.

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter