Well, this sucks hairy goat balls.
I continue walking up the long arse gravel drive, my muscles quivering and feet stomping. Luckily, I’m wearing flats, even if my feet are soaked through because it’s pissing down. My nostrils flare as I recall that my bags are also fucking drenched from being thrown in a puddle, all because the Uber guy thought he’d try to take liberties. I dick punched him for his troubles, the only light in an otherwise shitty situation, which he didn’t take kindly to, so he tossed my luggage out and dumped me by the side of the road.
I might be new to this country, but fuck him and his misogynistic belief that just because I’ve got tits and a vag, I must be interested!
There is literally a river running down the drive, soaking my feet even more, and for a moment, the clear water is replaced with streams of scarlet, and I flinch as painful memories flood my mind from six months earlier…
Red.
A whole room painted in shades of red.
Ribbons of dark crimson flow across the white lino floor, unstoppable in their path. I watch, fascinated, as the glistening ruby touches the toes of my yellow TOMS when I take a step, like a blotted ink spill.
Damn, these shoes were favourites of mine. The thought darts across my mind like a bird, flying away before I can grasp it.
My eyes follow the river to its source, lying there so still, in a pure white peaceful serenity. I walk towards her, swallowing with difficulty as a sour taste fills my mouth. I leave sticky cardinal footprints behind me, like some kind of macabre breadcrumb trail.
Time stops as a sharp pain hits my knees when I fall to the floor, breaking the crusty skin of the pool of blood, like custard left out too long. I’d expect it to feel hot against my leggings, but it’s cool, as if it was never warm at all.
My mind refuses to believe what it’s seeing, my eyes frenzied and watering as I try to take in the scene before me. Here is the woman who was there for me my whole life. Who gave birth to me, loved me, even when we fought like cats and dogs.
A strange sense of numbness settles over me like a cape, shielding me from the maelstrom of my anguish. The searing pain and hurt that I can sense lies just below the surface.
Nausea rolls round in my stomach as I break out in a sweat, and my muscles start to cramp, but I can barely feel the pain. Reaching out with trembling fingers, I brush her once shiny dyed red hair away from her pale face. My eyes search her body, trying to find the source of the blood leaking out of her, to see if it can be plugged. My hands frantically press into the cold liquid, lips trembling when they come away stained with the claret of life.
As I study them, my chest feels tight when a line that Lady Macbeth says flits into my mind, fluttering round like a butterfly demanding to be noticed.
‘What will these hands ne’er be clean?’
I always thought red was such a warm colour before. But now it’s as cold as ice, burning my skin where it touches it.
My eyes squeeze shut and I want to run, to flee, to escape from what’s in this room. I beg any god that exists in this world to release me from this torment.
I can hear frantic voices far away, someone sobs and vomits behind me, but the wind rushing past my ears makes it impossible to hear anything clearly at all.
I breathe deeply through my nose, shaking my head to try and clear it, but the tangy scent of old copper pennies overwhelms me, and suddenly the wind is howling round me so viciously, my eyes fly open and I’m surprised the room isn’t being torn apart in its violence.
Black starts to creep in round the edges, the blissful dark of ignorance welcoming me in its comforting embrace. I fall into it gladly, accepting the oblivion with open arms until I am nothing. No one.
And the red ribbons no longer exist.
I stop my walk, hanging my head, and take a moment, trying to catch my breath and blinking away the vision.
A fresh start, remember?
A new beginning and a chance to become a new person, not just the girl that found her dead–I shut the thought off, feeling heavy inside, and continue my way up the drive in this godforsaken rain.
Finally I arrive outside the stone facade of Highgate Preparatory Academy, apparently the best high school in the west. Snort. It’s nestled on the edge of the Rockies, surrounded by forests and amazing views, according to their website. None of which I can currently appreciate given that it’s dark, I’m soaked to the bone from the pouring rain, and fucking exhausted from a long arse journey.
We’re certainly not in Kansas anymore; well, London if we’re being really pedantic, I think, rolling my eyes at myself as I walk up the smooth stone steps and knock on the huge wooden panelled front doors, the sound echoing in the darkness.
“You can do this, Lilly,” I whisper under my breath, a rolling feeling in my stomach as I try to gather courage when I hear ominous footsteps on the other side, growing louder as they approach me.
Why does it feel like I’m waiting outside the gates of Hell?
It’s just a high school, the same as many others, I’m sure. Well, perhaps not exactly the same. Highgate is a private high school for the rich, privileged, and no doubt, arseholes of the western world. And this is my senior year. Dear lord.
One of the impressive wooden doors opens with a sinister creak—could this be any more like an old school hammer horror film?!—and a tall skeletal man with a hook nose and small beady eyes peers down at me. His thin lips are downturned, like I just washed up from a stagnant swamp, and not just got soaked in an autumn downpour.
Shoulders back, stiff upper lip, and all that.
“Lilly Darling, I presume?” he sniffs in a nasally voice, posture unwavering. “You’re late,” he sneers, eyes cold, before I’ve even had a chance to answer.
What a prick!
“M–My flight was delayed…” I stammer.
No! I think to myself. Don’t let this crow make you feel like shit. Pull up those lady balls and stare him the fuck down.
I straighten my spine, stand taller, and give him my best bitch glare.
“Hmph…” he scoffs cruelly. “Follow me.”
Wow. His mother clearly gave up on teaching him manners. Perhaps she left the nest he was born in when she saw his ugly maw. I mean, it’s not even a face a mother could love.
He turns sharply on his heels and walks away, back ramrod straight, expecting me to follow like the twatwaffle that he clearly is. I quickly grab my holdall and small suitcase, step inside, and gape.
Jesus wept.
This place is insane. Remember that great TV show a few years back called Downton Abbey? It’s like that, but bigger. I’m standing in a huge entrance hall with a sweeping central staircase that Crow the Cuntmuffin, as he shall forever be named, is already halfway up. I can’t see much else because it’s so dark, although I do notice marble floors sparkling in the moonlight from the windows, and so many wooden doors I lose count.
Scrambling to catch up, I briefly notice the dark wood doors that are running along the ground floor on either side of me are carved, although I can’t quite see what the images are. I moan aloud as my shoes touch the Persian rug, it’s so thick I swear I sink several inches. How awesome would this feel barefoot? I cringe when I realise I’m probably leaving wet footprints on it, then shrug. If Crow the Cuntmuffin has to clean them up, then it’s not so bad.
“Ahem.”
I look up, and Crow is at the top of the stairs, peering down at me like I’m dog shit. My cheeks flush a little with embarrassment at being caught ogling the carpet. Straightening my shoulders once again, I decide to screw him and his priggish ways by not hurrying.
This wanker and I are going to have a falling out soon. Fuck him and his opinions seven ways to Sunday.
I notice he keeps glancing dismissively down his beak nose at me, his upper lip curling and giving me a ‘hurry the fuck up’ look. So I slow down my assent even more, making sure my soaked suitcase bangs loudly against each step, ‘cause I’m petty like that.
“Hey, I hear ginger, honey, and lemon are great for sore throats. Sounds like you’ve got a doozy of one.” I smile sweetly at him, although it may be more of a baring my teeth type of grin.
His lips tighten and become so thin, they almost disappear. He clears his throat again, the snarky bastard.
As he continues on, he addresses me derisively without bothering to look back, “You were supposed to have your guide show you the way round this establishment today, then join us all in the Dining Hall for a welcoming feast. But as you couldn’t bring yourself to be on time, your guide has gone to bed.”
It’s fascinating really. It’s like he’s dead inside and just waiting for good ole Grim to whisk him away. “I’m to show you to your dormitory, and you must report to the office tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock sharp.”
The look he gives me over his shoulder is one of such dismissal, it’s like I don’t exist. Like I’m not even a mote of dust. Fucking Cockwomble.
We carry on along the lavish hallway, and I notice that all of the portraits lining the duck egg blue walls are of stuffy old men. All in formal clothing with severe looks on their faces, and some even have hooked noses.
Wow. Looks like Crow here is in good company.
He pauses outside a single, dark door, carved with some sort of biblical scene. I raise a brow at what I think is Lucifer being thrown out of heaven. That’s…aspirational?
“This is your dorm,” he indicates coldly as he takes out a keychain with two beautiful scrolling old-fashioned keys on it. “You share it with four others.” He’s almost smirking…hmmm…mustn’t be anything good if it brings him joy. Maybe the other girls I’m sharing with are as uptight as this wanker?
Crow unlocks the door and waits beside it. As I pass, he suddenly thrusts out his arm, holding out the keys, almost hitting me in the face with them. Dick. I grab them from him, and he turns his back, fucking off back down the hall.
Guess I’ll figure this shit out alone then, huh? With a fuck you shrug, I face the room.
Wowzers!
My brows raise to my hairline, my eyes widening as I take in the scene before me.
On the wall opposite me, there’s a gorgeous, large stone fireplace, embers still glowing and giving off a delicious heat that elicits a sigh of contentment from my lips. Three big comfy looking sofas are in a U shape round it, and what looks like an epic TV screen is hung above it. To the right of the fireplace is a floor-to-ceiling bay window covered in red velvet curtains. Nestled in the window is a dark wood oval dining table with a window seat bench covered in, yep, you guessed it, red and gold silk cushions. With fucking tassels! There are three extra chairs in dark wood and red leather on this side. In fact, the whole room is shades of red and gold. I always knew I belonged in Gryffindor!
“I guess it’s good to stick to a theme, right?” I mumble, snorting to myself.
Directly to my right, there is a small modern kitchen, and I can see a door ajar just after the island/breakfast bar that looks like a bathroom. Halle-fucking-lujah!
I’m in desperate need of a piss, the urge becoming painful as the possibility of finally being able to pee presents itself. I unceremoniously dump my bags on the ground, and head in to relieve myself. Pausing briefly at the door, I admire the clawfoot tub in the middle of the floor, along with the biggest shower that I’ve ever seen against the wall in the corner, all with a wide grin on my face. The shower has got so many heads and jets it’s almost obscene.
I’m definitely up for playing with those jets, especially round certain sensitive areas, wink wink. “It will be obscene once I’m done,” I chuckle to myself.
After I’ve finished, I wash up and wander over to said shower, discovering shelves full of products and thick, fluffy grey towels on a heated rail next to it. Fuck it. I’m taking a shower now. Those jets are calling to me like a siren song.
I scroll through the music on my phone—who doesn’t listen to music in the shower?—internally fist pumping when I find the perfect song for this clusterfuck of an arrival. Setting my phone on the counter, I hit play, and Get Off My Dick by Ilira starts playing, making me smile genuinely for the first time in what feels like days.
I start to sing along, not caring if my new roommates hear me after the night I’ve had so far. Stripping out of my damp clothes, dancing as I go, I leave them in a pile on the floor with my black ballet flats, then hop in the shower enclosure.
It takes a while to work out how the damn thing works, but once I figure it out, I can’t suppress the orgasmic groan that passes my lips as the hot water hits my aching body. This. Is. The. Bollocks.
I keep shaking my tail feather along to the beat as the divine water cascades down my body, warming me up from the inside out with a heat that radiates down to my toes.
Looking back at the shelves, I spy so many products I’m almost at a loss as to where to begin. I mean, they all belong to the students I’m sharing a dorm with, but I’m sure they won’t miss a little until I can buy some of my own. I’d thought about bringing some, but that would have taken up precious book space in my bags, so I figured I’d just buy them when I got here.
My eyes land on a bottle of shampoo, which I discover has a spicy ginger scent, so I pour a healthy dollop into my hands and lather up. After I rinse, I use it for a second time. Always double shampoo, bitches.
After rinsing once more, I follow with the same scented conditioner, using the bottle as my microphone when I get to the chorus of the song, singing loudly and loving the shower acoustics.
Finishing my solo, then bowing to the imaginary applause, I search for a body wash that’ll go nicely with the scent of the hair products, because you can’t just mix scents willy nilly like some sort of perfume heathen. I come across one that smells like vanilla cookies, a warm feeling settling in my chest at the homely smell.
Bingo! Once done and fully rinsed, I switch the shower off, squeezing my wavy brunette hair out, and step out of the shower to grab a towel.
“Nice shower?” a deliciously deep voice asks.
Obviously, I play it cool, and I definitely don’t screech like a fucking banshee whilst jumping about five feet in the air. Nope, not at all terrified, no siree!
Whipping round to face my peeping Tom, I’m wobbling on my feet as my heart pounds loudly in my ears. I’m naked as a newborn, completely forgetting to grab a fucking towel in my panic. Fuck. My. Life.
My eyes alight on the doorway to discover who the stranger is and…holy Mary, mother of all things hotness! Leaning against the doorframe with his muscular arms crossed over a simply glorious naked chest is the most exquisite specimen of the male species I have ever seen.
I moisten my parted lips, my skin flushing as I take him in.
He’s like a fallen angel, with gently curling, fiery red hair that falls over one stunning emerald eye and a firm chiselled jaw, which is relaxed and tipped up in a lopsided grin. He’s staring at me with bright eyes full of mischief, and a smouldering smile on his full come-bite-me lips.
And his ink. Oh, be still my fucking beating heart!
He’s got tattoos on his arms, covering a good portion of them and highlighting their powerful form. As he uncrosses them, I can see that he’s got a beautiful black chest piece that makes me suck in a breath, and my thighs clench. It’s of the painting in the Sistine Chapel. I think it’s called The Creation of Adam. On his throat is a neck piece of a stunning dragonfly, also black.
My gaze slips down to spy a nipple bar twinkling in the light, my hands twitching with the need to feel it under my fingertips. On his right hip, just above the waistband of his low-slung grey sweats—which should be fucking illegal, by the way—is a bright red lipstick tattoo. I can feel my core tingle at the sheer arrogance of that one.
“Ahem,” he chuckles, and my eyes snap up to meet his.
I can see the laughter in them, they’re practically sparkling with it, and I’ve totally been busted for checking him out. My body flushes once more when I notice that there’s also a banked fever in his green depths, which sets my pulse racing.
His eyes caress all over my nude body, the green heating even further as they gloss over slightly.
Yep. I’m still naked. In front of a hot as fucking sin stranger. Cue facepalm.
He casually strolls in, smirking playfully, whilst I’m frozen to the spot, and stops just in front of me, my wet hardened nipples almost touching his bare chest. He’s so close I can feel the heat of his body radiating out to mine, embracing me in a delicious warmth and making me shiver with pleasure.
His smirk is firmly in place as he keeps me trapped in an intense gaze, reaching over my shoulder with a long, beautiful tattooed arm. He brushes it, sending an electric current across my whole body, and I flash white hot at the touch. Fuck me.
Grabbing a towel from the rack behind me, he starts to dry me off with slow teasing strokes that send my pulse rocketing to new heights. I’m still unable to move so much as an inch, as this angel of a boy dries my arms one at a time, then my collarbone. He skims the towel over each breast, and I inhale sharply, filling my nose with his mouth-watering vanilla cookie scent, reminding me of the shower gel that I just used.
Instead of passing me the towel, which he really should have done from the beginning, he drops to his fucking knees in front of me, making my stomach flutter and my body feel overheated enough to combust.
Jesus! What on earth is happening? He’s a complete fucking stranger! Maybe I ought to…
Before I can make a decision on what I really should do, he looks up with a devilish grin that’s so irresistible on his angelic face, my brain just ups and leaves the building, letting Her Vagisty take over.
He proceeds to towel me from my feet, up my calves, and to my thighs. He pauses as he gets to the apex—thank goodness I had a Brazilian wax a few days ago!—and…did he just sniff me?! A low growl escapes him, and my breath hitches as I swear I can feel my core dripping, my pussy pulsing at the animalistic sound.
He stands up, pressing his front against me, and there is definitely something hard poking me in my lower stomach.
“Arms up,” he orders in a dark as black treacle voice, which is a little husky now.
He’s clearly as affected by me as I am by him. Thank fuck, otherwise, this would be awkward.
I’m so shocked by what has happened, what is still happening, that I do as he commands without question. He wraps the towel round me and tucks the end in so it stays shut, covering me from breasts to knees.
“Nice ink,” he whispers, his hand trailing along my right side where I have a watercolour galaxy tattoo. My side tingles even though I can’t possibly feel the touch through the towel.
“You too,” I breathe back, swallowing hard and licking my suddenly dry lips, my eyes travelling over his chest.
When I look up, the green of his beautiful eyes is almost entirely swallowed up with black, his pupils blown with lust, and I shiver, my nipples pebbling under the towel. Taking a step back in a bid to rein in Her Vagisty who’s about to go rogue, I can feel my body flush pink.
“Darlin…I–I mean Darling. That is, I am Darling. My name. My name is Lilly Darling,” I manage to choke out, my whole body alight with embarrassment. God smite me the fuck now and save me from myself. Real fucking smooth, Lilly. Jesus.
I realise that Get Off My Dick is still playing on repeat when his eyes flash to my phone on the counter, then back to me. He looks at me amused, laughter dancing in those gorgeous orbs of his.
His gaze changes slightly, the heat flaring in it brighter than before, like he wants to do naughty bad things to me, and Her Vagisty perks up at the thought. Christ on a cross. For fuck’s sake, woman!
“Boys!” he suddenly hollers, eyes still holding mine and startling me out of my dirty angel fantasies with a jump. “Our new roomie is here!”
Then, he turns round, tented sweats and all, and walks out.
