Page 157 of Cruel Legacy

A guy carrying a large poster board stops right next to Thea’s table. I hear him say, “Thank you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said thanks. For the food.”

“What food?”

“I got an alert that said the Drop out Pledge of Zeta Nu paid for my dinner.” He holds out his phone to show her the message. Other phones start pinging, as every person in the dining hall gets an alert that tonight’s dinner’s been comped by the dropout pledge from Zeta Nu. Thea’s now a nobody. Non existent. Not even worth having her name used. So from now until the day she leaves, she will only be referred to as The Dropout Pledge.

She looks at me, knowing I had something to do with her generosity. I gave her three days. I never said they’d be easy or that I would leave her alone. I hope she’s stashed away whatever money she’s earned for agreeing to come here to fuck with us, because we’re about to bleed every one of her accounts we find, dry.

Chapter67

Thea

Istumble a little, coming down the side of a hill. I hope I’m heading in the right direction to get back to campus. With everything going through my mind, I lost track of time on my hike and got turned around a few times. I thought the fresh air and walk would help. It didn’t. How has my entire life been one big lie?

I’ve been dealing with abandonment issues for years, so it shouldn’t bother me. But it does. I’ve just found out I’m not wanted all over again. Moira and Scott bringing me here doesn’t matter. They did so under false pretenses. I don’t think they ever planned to tell me the truth, and were perfectly happy to let me think they’re my aunt and uncle.

They even lied about their relationship with my mother. I never questioned the adopted cousin-sister story, because family is what you make of it. I’ve had plenty of “siblings”, growing up in foster care, and Sasha is the sister I would never turn my back on. We have love between us. If she needed me, I’d be there for her no matter what. So when they gave me that elaborate backstory, I believed it. I accepted it. Lies.All lies.

How could Moira dress me up and give me her car and not say a word? Well, fuck her. I didn’t need her to be my mother before. I damn sure don’t want or need it now.

I cross the road, picking my way through the overgrown grass. If my calculations are correct, three quarters of a mile along this route is the property that borders the ice cream factory. I make a mark on my map. I think I’m close to finding the hiking trail that leads all the way to the Hollywood sign.

My feet ache. Earlier, I was stomping and kicking up dirt and rocks as I walked out my anger. The grass gets lower. It’s freshly cut. Up ahead are the gates to the cemetery behind campus. The gates are usually closed, but tonight, they’re open. I walk through them, ready to make another mark on my map. It’s like a maze in here. I carefully pick my way around the headstones. If I had someone who was interned here, I’d probably have a better idea of where I’m going.

Instead, I use my instincts, and keep walking in the direction where I think the back side of the campus is located. I clear the side of a five-foot cross and come to a stop.

The middle of the cemetery is lit up like a Christmas tree, the smell of burning wood hangs in the air. Ahead of me, a robed figure weaves around the plots, carrying a torch. I keep to the shadows, following at a safe distance, to see what kind of stupid fuckery is going on.

Every time the sun goes down, one of these frat boys is vandalizing or stealing something. To have all that money and still not want to pay for shit. Amazing.

The robed figure is heading deeper into the maze of gravestones. I glance down at the dates on the headstones as I walk by. They’re rundown, unkept. I guess the families of those buried on this side have long since died off or moved away. I duck behind a tree when he walks behind a mausoleum. Then hurry to the tree directly across from it to get a better look.

I blink twice to make sure my eyes have fully adjusted to the dark. From where I’m hiding, I can make out a group of girls. They’re blindfolded, standing in a circle, with people standing behind wearing masks and robes similar to the guy I followed. The mausoleum they’re standing behind has structural damage. The front door and back wall are missing, and the roof’s collapsed inward. There’s a slab of cement in the middle of the floor. On it, a girl lays bound to four fence posts, staked into the ground around all four corners of the stone.

The mask of the person standing at the foot of the stone is a different color than everyone else’s, but it’s no less creepy. This is clearly the end of whatever ritual they’re doing because the guy sounds like he’s winding up his speech.

“Do you accept us without reservation? Do you vow to be loyal and obedient? Do you accept this fate?”

Those words are just another variation of what I heard at my chastity vow ceremony. But this is not a Zeta Nu thing. Those prissy bitches wouldn’t be caught dead in robes that color. I roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all. They’re trying to be all mysterious and shit. After this, they’ll just go off to a party, congratulating her on joining whatever weird club they belong to. My guess is it’s some kind of gothic thing.

The rest of the people in masks chant in time to the music that’s playing. The song and chants reach a crescendo, then stop, plunging the cemetery into absolute silence. Someone from the back of the circle steps forward as a new song begins. This one has a steady drumbeat. It’s more basic. More primal than the one before. He drops his cloak, revealing he’s naked underneath, and climbs on top of the altar with her. I watch from the shadows as my brain flicks from confusion to understanding. My throat goes dry as he settles between her legs, then drives into her with everyone watching.

Does every club incorporate sex play in their rituals? I guess I should be glad the Zeta Nus encourage you to abstain for as long as you can, because saying no doesn’t seem to be the point of this ceremony.

The forceful snap of his hips pushes her against the rough cement. She’ll be walking away with tons of scrapes and bruises, as evidence of this night.

I should be off somewhere getting fucked. But I wasted my time on someone unworthy of it. I was stupid to think that after Finn and I hooked up, we could come to some sort of arrangement. He did exactly what Pax said he’d do. Flaked as soon as we went there.

It doesn’t hurt my feelings. It’s whatever, but he could’ve just come right out and said he wanted to fuck, weeks ago, and saved all the games and flirting. Kicking me out of his place with my pants down isn’t even the worse thing he did. I had a sweatshirt on. Holden and Finn couldn’t see shit, but even if they did, so what? I’ve gone streaking and skinny dipping plenty of times.

What I’m pissed about is Finn accusing me of lying about my past, and never giving me the chance to talk. I don’t owe him my life story, but I’ve never lied about anything. I omit details or I don’t talk at all. That’s how you survive in Nags Creek. You don’t voluntarily tell anyone shit and if asked a direct question; you don’t know shit. That way, you can’t get caught in a lie or in the middle of a dispute you really know nothing about. In this instance, even if I wanted to talk about it, I couldn’t, because I didn’t know Moira and Scott weren’t who I thought they were.

Fuck! When did my life become a story arc from a soap opera? Young girl grows up on the wrong side of the tracks, comes to town and finds out she’s connected to an established family. The only thing missing was me falling into a star crossed love affair with the cocky rich son of the rival family.

The guy moans, pulling my thoughts from my fucked up reality and back to the action happening in front of me. I feel like a complete perv for watching. But I’m unable to look away from the flex of his hips, the width of his back. More cloaks drop to the ground or fall open, exposing a sea of flesh as the rest of the group moves closer, kissing and sucking each other’s body parts.

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