Page 7 of Echoes

It's like I'm seeking him out in the dark, like my body justknows.

Grey and Damon are standing in the foyer, their eyes piercing into me. I stumble to a stop, stomach twisting in a violent grip as I stare at Grey.

For a brief second, a look of surprise flashes across his face, but it's gone in an instant—that cold, heartless expression peering back at me. My body feels heavy, like it's tied in knots as I hold his gaze.

"Welcome back, Avery. I'll be seeing you," Damon says in a dark voice, startling me.

The two of them quickly disappear out of sight, my heart racing as I watch the door slam closed behind them. A second later, Mr. Whittingham is standing in his office doorway, frowning.

"Bring her in here."

I yelp slightly as the officers grab me harshly, ripping me out of my thoughts as they drag me inside the office. My eyes notice the state of his desk, and I know that this is where Grey and Damon were minutes ago.

One of the officers shoves me into a chair, looking at Mr. Whittingham for instructions.

"Take them off," he says coldly, picking up soggy pieces of paper from his desk.

Hands roughly grab my wrists, not caring about my wounds, as they uncuff me. I silently rub them, ignoring the stinging pain as I wait for Mr. Whittingham to speak.

"You can go," he directs the officers, motioning to the door.

When it's just us, he throws himself onto his chair, eyes closed as he rubs his temples.

"You're far too much trouble than what you're worth, Ms. White."

"I'm sorry?" I blurt out, unsure if I'm apologizing or just bewildered by his comment.

Annoyed eyes open slowly. Anger, frustration, and a touch of something else I can't put my finger on, stare back at me.

"I trust you've been informed of the conditions of your return," he says, ignoring me and his previous comment.

I nod, remembering my brief chat with Margie before I was escorted out of the police building. They had all watched me leave, disgusted, as if a criminal was walking free. In a sense, they weren't wrong.

"Good," he snaps. "I'll escort you to your room. However, before you leave, I have some further stipulations of my own."

"Such as?" I ask, brows furrowed.

It's already bad enough that I have strict conditions, but now there's more?

Mr. Whittingham stands up, hands flat on the edge of his desk. He glowers at me with a hardened expression.

"You will receive a psychiatric assessment from Dr. Smith tomorrow. If you do not pass, you will be placed in solitary confinement for such time until you're deemed fit to be back among your peers."

I twitch at the word but keep quiet.

"And should you be involved in any further incidents, regardless ofinnocence, I will personally make sure you never step foot inside my facility again."

"Okay," I whisper. "Anything else?"

"Actually, yes. You can let me know if you hear of any disturbances within the facility from fellow students. And you can keep away from thatcrowdyou seem to have grown attached to. Otherwise, I'll ensure they are promptly removed from Lilydale as well."

My neck stiffens as I observe his face, not entirely sure what I'm hoping to find. He wants me to stay away from who exactly? Grey and Damon? Theo? All of them?

There's only one-hundred patients here—well, ninety-nine now. It's not exactly easy to avoid everyone, even if I wanted to.

I have no idea if he has that much power. It's no secret that there'sanotherruler of this kingdom, but even kings can be lost in wars.

I'm exhausted—beaten down. I feel the fatigue in every part of my body. It's been a rollercoaster of emotion the past few days—from my personal information being leaked to everyone, to what happened with Theo and Grey, Sam's death, and my arrest. Reflecting on it, it seems likely that I might not pass this psychiatric assessment—now or ever. How does one come back from this?

---