Page 6 of Beautiful Delusions

Four years ago.

The clink of the cell door closing echoes long after the guard with lingering eyes has abandoned me here. I can't turn around, unprepared to look upon the room I'll be trapped in for the next two years.

"Staring at it isn't going to open it," a voice drawls. As I take a deep breath, steeling myself, I summon the courage to facemy new reality. Slowly turning around, I'm greeted by a sight which causes me to shiver.

The room is dimly lit, with pale yellow walls that have succumbed to years of neglect. The air is thick with the scent of despair and unwashed bodies. Cold metal bars stretch across the window, casting eerie shadows on the stained linoleum floor. A single flickering fluorescent light hangs from the ceiling, its feeble glow barely illuminating the cramped space.

I glance at my new roommate, a girl who pulses with hostility like a thunderous cloud. Jet-black hair cascades over one eye and a piercing blue gaze that could freeze hell itself, she sits perched on her bunk, sizing me up.

"Fresh meat, huh?" she says with a snarl, her voice dripping with resentment. "Well, don't expect any favors from me. You're on your own here." I nod silently, picking up on her clear message: I am not welcome in this confined world we now share. Still, I try to muster up some courage.

"I understand," I reply softly, my voice quivering slightly. "But maybe... maybe we could find a way to coexist peacefully? It doesn't have to be like this." Her lips curl into a derisive smirk as she tilts her head mockingly.

"Coexist?" she scoffs. "This ain't some fairy tale, princess. You're in for a rude awakening if you think peace is possible in this hellhole." Her words cut through the air, sharp and venomous. I can feel the disdain radiating from her in heated waves. Squaring my shoulders, I decide to stand my ground.

"I just meant I'll stay out of your way. There's no need for added animosity." I meet her piercing gaze head-on, refusing to back down. This is my first test, and failing will only incur two years of needing to sleep with one eye open. The girl jumps down from her bunk, her four-foot-eleven height having no baring on the malice she exudes. She chuckles darkly, the sound bouncing against the cold walls.

"Animosity?" she repeats, her voice laced with skepticism. "Are you trying to intimidate me with big words?"

"What?" I frown. She takes a step forward.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Her lips twist upwards. I shake my head, tripping over my words.

"No, I didn't–It's not like that. I was top of my English Lit class. I'm getting my masters after this."

"This isn't a little vacation you're going to leave unscathed. This place thrives on chaos and power struggles. Survival of the fittest, and you, Princess..." She grabs my wrist and turns it upward. "Physically or mentally, you won't be leaving unscathed. How's that for a big word?" I don't have time to gasp as a utensil appears in her hand and penetrates my skin. Elbow to wrist, she carves a bloodied line with the razor-blade tip, trailing back and forth to avoid my veins. I dare not move out of fear of dislodging her trickling path, frozen watching the scarlet spill from the cut. I'm so numb, it doesn't even hurt until my roommate flicks her blade away and strides to her bunk. Then the panic sets in. My legs shake, giving out in slow motion as I bang on the cell door, screaming so loud I can't even hear it in my own ears.

Sophia, breathe. Cauterize the blood flow. The voice is faint but sure. I don't have time to look for the source, too focused on following her instructions. Whipping off my t-shirt, the white now thoroughly stained, I wrap it around my left elbow and pull tight. It's not enough, but it's all I've got. All I can do. My arm...my life...it's ruined. Ruined by an asshole my mom brought into our home and defended in court. I'm alone, dying in a cell. All that exists is the pool of blood at my feet and the booming cackle of my roommate rocking back and forth on her thin mattress.

“Miss Chambers!” a sharp voice wakes me from my daydream. I’m not even sure where my mind went this time, but the interactive board certainly wasn’t filled with examples of transgressive and innovative forms before I spaced out. The English Lit teacher, Mrs. Patrick, taps her nails against her desk, waiting for me to acknowledge her.Shit. “Are you here to better your chances of impressing me with your dissertation, or is the sound of my voice merely a vice for you to ponder your life choices?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m here for the lecture. Please continue,” I mutter, shrinking back into my chair. She looks me over, not a shred of belief in her shrewd gaze. Reaching retirement age, her wispy blonde hair is trimmed short, a cane on hand for support when walking around the desk.

“See me after class,” she nods once, going back to the textbook everyone else seems to be following. I struggle to withhold my groan, causing a few nearby to chuckle. I try my best after that to focus, to stay on track with jotting down notes, but without my meds–it’s like trying to steer a sinking ship. Every time I think I’m on track, an iceberg of random thought causes me to swerve, and takes too long to unscramble the words in my notepad. By then, Mrs. Patrick has moved on and I have no hope.

“Did you guys hear?” a girl from the row in front whispers to her friends. Most grunt in agreement, except one who asks, “Hear what?”

“The Thorn Brothers have chosen their new pet.” Flicking to a page in the back of my notepad, I jot down ‘Thorn Brothers’ and any more information I reckon I’ll want to come back to later.

“What?!” the brunette gasps a little too loudly. “I’ve applied seven times!” Waiting for Mrs. Patrick to turn back around, the original gossiper nods.

“Last night, apparently. They haven’t announced who it is yet.” At the same moment, a pair of large pale eyes find me amongst the masses. The blood in my veins runs cold. Letty, the girl from last night, watches me intently, her expression filled with concern. I have a few choice words for her after she abandoned me in Kyan’s room last night.

“They’ll probably save it for the sports rally,” a girl in the middle of the row sighs. “You know how they like to put on a show.”

“If the newbie lasts that long,” another snickers. “Screwing three men at once isn’t as easy as it looks in the pornos. The last one had to take medical leave.”

“There certainly isn’t anything average about those brothers.” A ball forms in my throat, unbeknownst to the brunette, who giggles.

“I heard Kyan got a new piercing recently–”

“That’s quite enough!” Mrs. Patrick slams her cane on the desk, making us all jolt. “Do I need to hold a full detention to re-deliver this lecture?” No one speaks. We don’t dare breathe. Sitting here longer than necessary when there’s gossip to be unraveled sounds like a personal type of hell. Once the session recontinues, there’s no way I can concentrate now. Pet, sports rally, three at once, piercing? My mind is reeling, breath quickening as Jazzie appears in the empty seat beside me.

“Sounds like these boys sure are a handful.” Reaching across, her hand seems to guide my own as I scrawl in the back of my notepad, dully watching the words appear.Brazilian wax needed.The bell blares, raising a yelp from my throat. Bags are hastily packed, bodies are moving while I sit there, too heavy to lift my limbs until Mrs. Patrick looks my way, curling a gnarled finger.

My feet fly down the steps of the lecture hall, books clutched in my arms. The closer I get, the more disapproving Mrs. Patrick’s eyes grow at the clothes I borrowed from Lost and Found. She should have seen how those passing by gaped when I was shimmying down the drainpipe in my denim miniskirt and the lack of panties that Lucas seemed to provide. Now, navy leggings and a long-sleeved rugby shirt cover me well enough, my blue hair thrown up in a messy bun. At least I was able to find my glasses where Ezra left them on a library bookcase.

“Does my class seem like a joke to you?” Mrs. Patrick starts, clicking the keys on her laptop as she speaks. “I know ofyour history, Miss Chambers. Your scholarship states you must successfully graduate, or you’ll have to pay back all of the funds. Given your juvenile record and the possibility of being a college drop-out, I don’t know who will employ you long enough to do so.”

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