Page 5 of Soul of a Psycho

It takes at least fifteen minutes for me to trek through all three quads and pass the crumbling half-wall that leads down into the foliage surrounding Hillcrest. The only gates we have to keep others out are the main ones, with their intricate iron work and ominous crest in the center. No one would be dumb enough to go around them and through the forest to get in. Unless they wanted to end up lost in the woods.

Hillcrest’s property goes far beyond the school, right up to the train tracks and into untamed woodland that doesn’t need protecting because it protects itself. It’s almost as deadly as me, and I think that’s why it hasn’t betrayed me yet. Two kindred spirits that recognize each other for what we are—a threat to society.

When I reach the canopy of spanish moss, I have to dip my head and watch my feet to not trip on any gnarled roots. But I know the way to the little shack like the back of my hand. It’s been my sanctuary since the first time I got knocked out, stumbling upon it when I ran after I woke up covered in—Anyway, it’s mine.

When I finally reach the crumbling structure, I take care to unspool the wire at the base of the door, not ever wanting to forget that again. The one time I accidentally set the trap off, the ax nearly took off my arm. And giving myself stitches is something I never plan on doing again. I’m also pretty sure the infirmary has now locked up the antibiotics. But at least I know the fucking thing works.

If it was anyone else, it would have hit them in the neck and they would have bled out on the vegetation that’s threatening to take back the steps. Which is exactly my intention because if anyone sees what I have in here… Well, it’s either them or me.

I smirk and jam the door shut behind me, pulling a lighter out of my pocket to get the lantern started. The glass is fogged, but it’s enough for now until the sun grows too weak to pierce the muck-covered window. I slump into the stolen physics chair and tug my hood back, eyeing the work table before me.

Plastic tubs of powders and liquids line the back, while spools of copper wire sit on the lids, and there are tiny snippets of the wire littering the floor in a shiny mosaic of conduit. My tools lay out in a mess, and I groan when I realize I’ve forgotten to bring the charging bank for the soldering gun.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Nothing has been more of a pain in the ass than not having power out here. I contemplated stealing one of the solar panels from the engineering lab and rigging it, but I made the mistake of asking the professor questions and he would no doubt know it was me that stole it. The last thing I need is any attention.

Paranoia suddenly gets the better of me, and I reach under the table to pull out the precious crate. It scrapes over the thick layer of dust on the splinter-ridden floorboards, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I pull the tarp back.

All still here.

I gently shove it back into its hiding place and kick my boots onto the table, leaning back and running my hands down my face. Jesus, I need to get a grip. Especially considering the second my eyes close, I see bronze hair.

I drop my hands and focus on the hole in the ceiling where a tree branch has broken through. I need to get thisSky Lyonsout of my head. I could barely concentrate in the rest of my classes after this morning. I don’t know what it is. It’s not like there haven’t been new girls before, and there’s no way her doe eyes see me for anything but the exile I am but…

There was a moment, a split second, when I caught her watching me outside the headmistress’s office, before she schooled her features, that felt like she didn’t just see me, butsawme.

That could be my fault, though. I didn’t know anyone was watching. She saw a moment of weakness that wasn’t indicative of who I really am. And genuineness can be faked. Hillcrest taught me that.

I nearly crack a tooth as I grind my jaw, and I have to remind myself that this place is going to reap what it’s sowed.

And I’m the reaper.

Chapter Five

Sky

The blonde cherub of a girl who slept through my arrival last night is a whole different person now as she curls her lip at me from her bed. She’s decked out in three leather chokers, with black eyeliner smudged out around her eyes and two holes in each brow that are missing their piercings.

“Great, they’ve locked me up with Malibu Barbie herself,” she sneers with an English accent.

I roll my eyes at her and throw my bag on my bed. Great, they’ve lockedmeup with a bitch.

“Oooh, sassy aren’t you?” she tsks.

I don’t give her the satisfaction of a response and instead turn my back on her and rifle through my bag for a hair tie. I just schlepped my way back from the other side of campus, and the sweat on the back of my neck is my only concern right now.

“Well, out with it,” she continues, and her bed creaks behind me. “What’s your name? Where you from? Let’s get the pleasantries out of the way before I lay down the rules.”

Rules?I take a steadying breath and continue to ignore her. My day—No, mylifehas been absolute crap, and the last thing I need is this girl getting under my skin. Not today. I was late to practically all my classes because the map was useless. I would have been better off with a compass. And not a single teachercut me any slack. It was my first day, and no matter how many apologies I spewed letting them know so, I still got the disappointing look that meant I was on their watch list.

My hopes of not drawing any attention from my father have gone out the window, and with them, any care I have to give. I’m so tired of everyone holding me to impossible standards, and the anger simmering just beneath the surface threatens to crack my demure exterior. I spin around on my roommate, finishing off my ponytail.

“I’m no happier than you to be here so, can you not?” I say, hoping that our combined displeasure can be an olive branch between us.

She’s picking the black paint chips from her nails and looking me up and down like I’m a disappointment. What is it with everyone around here judging me? Didn’t I get enough of that back home?

“No one is happy to be here, princess,” she quips when her eyes reach mine. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world and rules are the only way to keep civility.”

I can’t resist rolling my eyes again. This girl can’t possibly know what it’s like to live by the rules. I’m sure her parents never backhanded her for breaking any, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to embrace the style she’s taken on. I couldn’t wearanynail polish or I was called a whore. How’s that for civility?

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