Page 45 of Dare To Fall

In truth, Arabella getting out of this place would be the best way to stop the bullshit going on, but then we’ll never find out who’s behind it. I’m pretty sure she’d leap at the opportunity to get out of Churchill Bradley, because she doesn’t think she’s strong enough to deal with what’s happening.

I know better. She is strong enough. She just needs to realize it.

“Hmm. I never thought about it that way.” Dad’s voice snaps my attention back to him. “I’ll speak to Elena.”

“Good.” I hesitate before speaking again. “How are you? No more health issues?”

He laughs quietly. “No. Elena talked me into reducing my work hours. I’m eating well, and exercising.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me.

“Alright. Well, you’re probably busy with class, so I’ll let you go.”

“Dad?” I say his name before he hangs up.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’ve managed to find some happiness with Elena.”

“I love you, son.” He hangs up before I can reply.

“Hey, Travers!”

I look up to find Jace, Evan, and Bret in front of me. They’re nudging each other and laughing. I hike an eyebrow.

“One of the girls said they saw Arabella fucking around near your locker earlier. Guess the little bitch didn’t learn her lesson on Saturday,” Evan says.

Has she received another instruction?

I haven’t checked my other cell for messages, and I can’t while they’re standing here watching me. I summon up a smile while my mind races.

“Guess any attention is good attention when your life is a mess,” I drawl. I push away from the stand, shoving my hands into the pockets of my sweats. “Guess I better go and see what she’s fucked up now.”

I keep my pace slow, knowing their eyes are on me, and make my way back to the building where the senior lockers are kept. My footsteps slow as I approach my locker. There’s something stuck to the front of it.

A printout of a photograph.

Of me.

I study it but make no move to take it down. It’s the one she took a few days ago. The one of my back, scars on display. My eyes move from that to the handwritten text across the top of the paper.

The Monster of Churchill Bradley. As ugly on the outside as he is on the inside.

Without removing my gaze from the image, I pull out my cell and call Kellan.

“What class are we in next?”

“Math.”

“Is Arabella there?”

“Yep. She’s looking a bit shaken up.”

I grunt. “Has Drake arrived yet?”

“No.”

“I’m on my way.”

---