Page 73 of Ramsay

Oliver has warned me away from his father multiple times. Ramsay has been downright squirrelly about it. Why?

Is it really because he’s overprotective or he doesn’t want me seeing behind the curtain?

Now I have a sanctioned reason to sit down with Mr. Goodlow and there’s nothing they can do about it.

∞∞∞

Now that my treatment has been spread to the masses, it’s a free for fucking all. It’s a good thing I’m immune because otherwise I’d probably be slitting my wrists or some shit.

Which just goes to show how little Ramsay and his merry band of assholes care. Truthfully, that hits home more than this other bullshit. All for reasons that I refuse to analyze.

During lunch, Bone casts me a grim smile. Dixie and Maeve sit across from me, engaged in a heated conversation if Dixie’s scowl is anything to go by.

When Maeve glances my way, her pretty green eyes owlish behind her glasses, I nod. Until they go wide.

Great. What now?

“Willow?”

Raising my head, I sit up when Mr. Goodlow says my name.

He’s standing behind me with a strained smile and he holds out his hand and says, “I have free time now if you’d like to meet?”

Bone gives me a curious stare which I ignore, stuttering, “Oh um, yes.”

Mr. Goodlow nods at his daughter before I precede him to the door. The back of my neck tingles and just before I pass the threshold to the exit, I glance back and confirm, yep, the Sinners are all staring at me.

Guess your little stunt backfired, hm?

∞∞∞

“So, Willow, Ms. Carter indicated you might like to speak with me?” Mr. Goodlow says, sitting down in a seat across from mine.

He gazes at me out of kind eyes the same hue of green as Oliver’s. It’s strange to see the dichotomy between the two. Was it something Mr. G did that made Oliver the way he is? Or was he born without a soul?

Now that my little scheme worked, I’m at a loss as to what to say. I guess I didn't think that far ahead. Stupid that.

Glancing away, I murmur, “I suppose you saw the texts that were sent around the school?”

“I did,” he says gravely.

“Do you know who sent them?”

“No? Did the principal track down the perpetrator?”

“I guess not.” Is he really this oblivious or does he not know what to do with his asshole son?

“Well, regardless it was completely inappropriate and must have been devastating to see your personal thoughts exposed?” he says with a gentle smile.

“It was...difficult.” Truthfully, I’m numb at this point.

“I can imagine. Does it make you feel...like you want to hurt yourself?” he asks tentatively.

My gaze flies to his, and away, disturbed by his intensity. Great now I have to talk my way out of suicide watch. Fucking Ramsay.

“No Mr. G, I’m not suicidal,” I mutter.

Nodding his head, he studies me silently and I stiffen, sitting super still, because I refuse to squirm even though I have the urge. I mean what is he looking for? It’s not like I’m gonna jump from my seat and start smacking my head against the wall, although now that I’ve thought of it, it sounds strangely appealing. Gah.

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