Page 5 of Deadly Sacrifice

I shift in the hard metal chair I’m in, flicking my attention from the pictures of her to the four elders and back again. Heather snickers, murmuring something about Prudence being an ugly disgrace. Ignoring her, I focus on the stiff set of Griffin’s shoulders beside me. When I look at him, he’s grinding his jaw, eyes set into a hard glare as he looks at the latest picture of Prudence. I can practically see the cogs turning in his mind, but I don’t dare ask what he’s thinking right now.

“Pledges,” the first elder says, smiling and gesturing to the four of us in the back, behind the sworn-in members. There are a few more pledges here at Blackwood University, but they aren’t quite old enough to be here yet. “This is your initiation. You won’t be welcomed into our world until she’s miserable enough to die. Fail, and you’ll be shunned and blacklisted. Permanently. We don’t want anyone who isn’t capable of such a simple task.”

With those words echoing in my mind, I give one last look at the picture of Prudence on the wall. I may not have asked to be in this secret world I was born into, but I’ll be goddamned if anyone takes it from me now.

Prudence Cate Sexton, you’re going to regret ever stepping foot on this campus.

4

Prudence

Rushing for Greek life when I have to cover my scars and curves isn’t my brightest idea, but I want the full college experience, you know? And who better to fully immerse me than the Greek system? And maybe my mom had mentioned Greek life here and there over the years, and I’ve got some questions that need digging into.

So after a long, weird week of class, I find my nicest clothes that still cover every inch of my skin and kind of hang off of me like I’ve suddenly lost fifty pounds. I’m going with thick black tights under a green, long-sleeved dress. Then I curl my hair, apply some light makeup, and call it a day.

Giving myself a judgy look in the mirror, I whisper, “Not impressed. What happened to the girl who could draw a perfect cat-eye in the car? Who had nice clothes that all her friends begged to borrow?” Rolling my eyes, I snatch up a little black purse and slip into my knee-high black boots. “Oh yeah, she nearly bled out on the freeway,” I gripe as I shut off my lights and start the trek to the great lawn where rush is being held. Hopefully, if things go well today, I won’t have to come back to this smelly, cramped dorm room much longer.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m surrounded by people. My skin gets hot and tight, and I curl in on myself a little without even meaning to. Before that day with Mom, when we crashed, I was popular. Not outrageously so, but I fit in. I liked people. I had lots of friends.

Then they all started talking shit about my mom behind my back. She may be sick, reliant on strong medication, and possibly confined to a group home for the rest of her life so nurses can keep an eye on her, but you start throwing words like crazy, deranged, and nut job around, and we’re going to have a fucking problem.

My mom didn’t ask to get sick. She didn’t ask to have her brain scrambled around until nothing made sense anymore. She never hurt me on purpose, and she had good days sometimes, where we’d watch movies or go shopping or just enjoy some quiet moments together.

Even after the accident that could have killed me, I still love her.

It’s maybe a different kind of love than you’d expect between a mother and her daughter. A guarded kind. I love her from a distance because that keeps me safe. I talk to her on the phone often, and I’m here in college just for her, but there are limits too. I won’t travel anywhere with her. I can’t do long visits. There are lines that had to be drawn since that day.

Shaking myself from those depressing thoughts, I scan the large grassy area, taking in all the different booths set up. It’s split right down the middle, with fraternities on one side and sororities on the other. And every single person here is a smoke show.

Great, I’ll blend right in.

I roll my eyes at myself, glance down at my covered body and loose clothes, and wince. I’m having more than second thoughts. I skipped right past second when I walked across campus and nearly sweat to death under the August sun. Now I’m having third, forth, even fifth thoughts, and all of them are screaming that this isn’t my best idea.

I’m about to turn and run for the freaking hills when I lock eyes with Creed from my sign language class. It took me a few days to learn his name from the girls whispering behind me, but he’s the one who propositioned me that first day.

His shaggy black hair is artfully messy today, and his amber eyes are alert as they scan the area. He does a full sweep before landing his gaze back on me. A slow smirk pulls up his mouth. He says something to Asher — the brunette from sign language — and then sticks a toothpick in his mouth as he heads my way.

Alarms blare in my ears, and I look around for a way out. Or maybe to see if he’s looking at someone else. But before I can come to a conclusion, he’s right there, standing in front of me and assaulting me with his fresh scent.

He grins, switching the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, and then says, “I knew you were ballsy, but showing up to rush?” Creed shakes his head as his eyes slowly travel down my body. “You’re either the bravest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, or you’re dumb as bricks.”

I bark out a laugh, and then rush to cover it with a cough. “Does the rest of the female student body enjoy being complimented and insulted in the same breath?” I give him the same cursory glance, and then add, “It’s so weird, because for some reason, you’re really not doing it for me.”

Creed’s eyes flash with heat, and he steps closer, daringly tilting my chin up with his index finger. His other hand pulls the toothpick from his lips, and then he’s closing the distance between us before I can react.

Stopping just a breath away from my lips, he whispers, “Careful, Ember. Seems like you’re just begging to be shown how wrong you are about me. And trust me, baby, I’d love nothing more than to teach you a lesson.” He runs his nose down the length of mine, and I suck in a shaky breath.

Then he’s gone, backing away with a wink before turning around and going back to Asher’s booth.

It takes me longer than I’d like to admit to get my feet moving again. I don’t want to be the gullible, inexperienced girl who falls for shit like that. I know better than to believe a guy like Creed would ever treat me right. But his presence is intoxicating, and when he’s close to me, I forget all about my inner resolve about men.

Shaking the lingering fog from my mind, I force a smile on my face and walk into the fray. Time to get rushing.

***

So, not that I’m super into this girly sorority shit, but I’ll admit, I did my research before arriving today. I played nice for a couple hours, stopping by every booth, taking flyers, chatting with a few girls, but I knew which sorority I wanted to pledge long before the day began.

Alpha Chi Omega is the leading sorority on campus. Not only do they spearhead campus fundraisers every year, but their philanthropy is about rasing awareness for mental illness. Of course, all the philanthropies are important in different ways, but this one really speaks to me.

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