Good morning, Darlings.

This chapter has a little bit of an anxiety warning.

Thank you to Mel and Gemma.

FIVE

Bella

"The most basic human desire is to feel like you belong. Fitting in is important."

— Simon Sinek

I didn't know what her first name was, but Miss Weber was a complete and utter bitch. She was throwing orders at me in Latin, arrogantly thinking I wouldn't be able to keep up with her. I was decent in Latin, but what saved me was my ability to pick out a single word in her orders and then use that to contextualize what else she said. The more I picked up, the more frustrated she got.

Halfway through my tour, she switched to a variety of languages, and though I was lost, I tried hard not to let her see it. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

Based on the piggish look on her face, I was succeeding in pissing her off.

She stopped outside a dark wood door and looked at me.

"Thank you for hostessing," I told her, keeping my voice as sweet as I could make it and plastering on a shallow smile.

Her dark eyes narrowed and she stepped toward me. "Listen to me, you worthless trailer trash." She hissed. "You won't make it twenty-four hours in this place. Don't get comfortable, and don't turn your back on anyone. Accidents happen all the time around here."

Her thinly veiled threat on my life was just one more thing to add to my column of reasons why all this had been a stupid decision.

"Have a wonderful evening," I said, my smile cracking wider.

She sneered at me, shoving past me and storming back down the corridor. I waited for ten seconds, realizing my hands were shaking. With fear or anger or exhilaration for standing my ground, I wasn't sure.

After taking several deep breaths, I opened the door in front of me.

It led to a massive room with—much to my dismay—two large beds. I wasn't opposed to sharing space, but I had hoped to at least be safe locked in a room by myself while I slept.

The room was plain, in comparison to the rest of the compound, but compared to my apartment in Phoenix, it might have been a room out of Versailles.

The four-poster beds looked to be at least full-sized mattresses and were accompanied by matching ornate wardrobes and dressing tables. There were thick desks on either side of the room and tall bookcases built-in. There was a door to my left, and after a quick glance in, I saw it lead to a bathroom. I took a breath, taking in the room again. The right side of the room had small personal items lying around, so I moved to the bed on the left. I set my backpack on it, turning and letting myself flop back over the mattress.

What the hell was I doing here?

…

I warred with myself for about an hour. I wanted to explore the school, become familiar with the grounds, but there was safety in remaining in the room. I didn't know if it was smarter to stay out of the way of the students or to let them get used to seeing me in hopes they left me alone sooner.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore.

I picked up my backpack from the bed, moving to the wardrobe. Inside were clean sets of perfectly pressed uniforms I'd seen students wearing downstairs. I took a deep breath and pulled out a set, placing my backpack on the floor of the wardrobe.

No time like the present.

I shed my clothes, reaching for the crisp button-down top and the sharply pleated skirt. The uniform fit perfectly like it had been tailored for me, and I frowned, looking myself over in the mirror to get the full effect. The clothes weren't that strange, but somehow, I didn't look like myself in them. I eyed the blazer and necktie, considering both options before deciding to forego them. It was a risk, but based on the looks of the students downstairs, I wouldn't need them now anyway.

There weren't shoes in the wardrobe, and I winced as I pulled on my ratty black Converse. They clashed against the uniform's clean lines, but I couldn't deny once they were on, I felt a little better.

I dug into my backpack, pulling out a cheap plastic hairbrush I kept in there. I ran the brush through my hair a few times, feeling annoyingly self-conscious about my bad haircut. Mom had been cutting my hair my whole life, and though she wasn't terrible, she clearly wasn't up to par with the elite stylists that probably worked on those teens in the common room.

But then, nothing I had or could even dream of would probably keep up with the students here.

Realizing all I was doing was putting off the inevitable, I set the brush down and took a deep breath. It was time to face the music.

I left the room, praying I could find it again while simultaneously trying to remember the route we'd taken to get here.

I eventually made it back to the common room, and to my relief and frustration, it was empty. I was happy not to see the arrogant pricks who'd been in here before, but part of me had been hoping anyone would be around to show me the grounds.

Since the room was empty, I took a quick moment to look around, noting the large marble fireplace along the North wall. Above it was a painting that looked like it was done by another Renaissance master. If I had to guess, I'd say Raphael, though I was unfamiliar with the piece.

It made me dizzy to look at it, and I turned away, examining the massive built-in bookcases surrounding the fireplace. Floor to ceiling of ancient-looking texts in various languages.

Did these kids know how to read them all?

I was smart, I worked hard, and I got good grades, but this… this was an entirely different level. These had to be people born into this level of knowledge and privilege. I could spend the rest of my life striving to learn not even half of what these kids had been raised on.

I was so far out of my league.

It was making me dizzy to be in the common room, so I stepped out, heading out toward the main corridor I'd managed to semi keep track of while Headmaster Valencia was showing me to the dormitories.

Down the hall, I could hear the sound of people moving, and I hurried forward, relief washing over me when I saw students slipping between wide-open double doors. I headed there behind them, taking in the large dining hall. It was outfitted with dark round tables that held about eight chairs a piece. The tables were filling up with students, and in the center of the room, everyone was giving the middle table a wide birth.

Ms. Weber was there, drapped over the same guy she'd been hanging on in the common room, as was the other girl that had looked like she was trying to mark her territory. The two guys were also there, the stunning blonde between them. The guys looked to be hooked on whatever story she was telling. No one made direct eye contact with them, though I saw plenty of girls looking longingly at the table when they thought they could get away with it. I couldn't even begin to imagine what sort of crazy you'd have to be to wish to be a part of that table. I didn't know any of them, but I could tell they weren't ordinary teenagers in any way. The arrogance rolling off the table was next level, stratospheric.

I wanted to avoid them as much as humanly possible.

I skirted the edge of the room, finding a mostly empty table. The girl sitting there didn't move at all when I made to sit down. She was hunched over, a pen in her hands as she scribbled furiously in a worn looking notebook.

Honestly, she seemed a little deranged, but a seat next to her was the most inviting spot in the whole damn hall.

A few more students scurried into the hall before the doors were shut, a bell ringing gently throughout the room. A few people stopped speaking, looking up expectantly. I tried to follow their gazes, but couldn't find anything discernable they were all focusing on.

The bell stopped, and the room grew quiet, and then a single, small gong rang out. Students around the room stood, even the ones at the center table. I stood as well, eyeing the girl at my table who ignored everything and kept writing.

The student body began reciting something in Latin, and I took the opportunity to look around, trying to get a feel for the students here. They varied in age, though the youngest looked to be about ten or so. I was surprised to see such young faces. Was this an all-ages boarding school?

When the recitation was complete, all eyes turned to the center table. The table in turn set their gazes on the boy with girls hanging off him, the one with bronze hair and all the arrogance in the world.

He took a look around the room, savoring the attention before he smirked and took a seat.

The blonde girl and guy were next, followed by the biggest guy. Ms. Weber and the other girl didn't sit until the rest of their table had settled in.

Moments later, the entire cafeteria was sitting.

Were they royalty? What in the world could possibly prompt a bunch of teenagers to show so much respect to someone?

I took a seat myself, trying to gauge what everyone else around the room was doing. I could tell there were a lot of silent social cues I was supposed to pick up on, I just wasn't quite sure yet what they all were.

After a moment, a man dressed in a tailored suit came through a door on my right with a silver cart. He walked through the room, heading directly for the center table.

I watched as he provided plates to the four in the same order they'd sat. Once their food had been served, the other three waited for the bronze-haired boy to start eating. He took his time, milking the attention of everyone in the room.

Eventually, he did start, which prompted the chain again.

As soon as the four were eating, table by table, students began to rise and file to a line. Doors opened along one wall, and I was surprised to see what looked like an industrial kitchen peeking out at us.

I waited for my table's turn to rise, though I wasn't sure when that would be. I hoped the girl at my table would notice when it was time. She'd been the only one not staring at the four, and that was because she could barely look up from her journal.

I wanted to speak to her, ask her one of my hundreds of questions crammed into my mind, but she was so absorbed in her journal that I doubted she'd even hear me.

I considered getting up and going to find the headmaster or a member of staff, just to ask for help, but it didn't feel right.

Despite the fact that this was a school, I got the sense we weren't supposed to ask for help here.

So instead of doing something sensible and helpful, I sat at the table, silent, starving, and confused.

One by one, tables around the cafeteria got up, and kids filed past to line up for food. The girl at my table didn't budge, and after a while, I decided that I wouldn't wait any longer.

I stood from the table, about to head over to the queue across the room, when a girl about my height spotted me.

"What do you think you're doing?" she yelled, drawing attention to us from across the room. I was so startled, so I hesitated in my place, about to step back to my table. I took a deep breath, forced myself to steady, and looked at her.

"I'm getting food."

Her face looked as though I had slapped her.

"You don't get to get food." She hissed, her eyes narrowing. "You wait for the rest of us to get what we need, and you feed off the crumbs we leave you."

My mouth popped open in shock, but when I looked at other people around us, no one was offering anything helpful.

If anything, they all looked like they agreed with her.

"Run back to your seat, trailer trash," the girl said, motioning with her hand. "And be grateful that you even get to sit in our presence."

I had no words. No way to talk to this monster of a human being.

I felt all eyes on me in the cafeteria, and my skin was starting to grow hot from the attention.

Silently, I took a step back, and the most annoying smirk landed on the girl's mouth. I wanted to lash out at her, to stand up for myself, but I was severely outnumbered. Based on the reactions of the kids around me, as well as at the tables across the room, this girl was speaking on behalf of the student body.

I returned to my table, humiliated, confused, and angry. I could hear laughter and it was pointed and savaged, directed my way.

I'd gone from invisible to the center of nasty attention in less than five minutes.

I sat at my table, staring at my hands that I kept folded on the surface in front of me. Across from me, the girl didn't even pause writing in her journal. She'd been the only one not watching my humiliation.

Not for the first time, I had to wonder what the hell I was doing here. Why was I subjecting myself to these people? Surely nothing could be worth this, could it?

I thought about my mom, about the life she led hopping from man to man, hoping they would take care of her. I thought about how beaten down she'd become, how much of herself she'd sacrificed over the years for men that didn't value any part of her.

I couldn't be my mother. I refused.

But was this the only path to not becoming her?

Of that, I wasn't sure.

…

The entire cafeteria had been served except me and the girl across from me. I watched her, praying she'd do something, anything, when she stood abruptly and headed across the room to be served. I stood and followed her, praying no one would pay any notice to me.

A few people openly snickered as I walked by, but otherwise, people were too involved in each other to pay me much mind.

I was served the last remnants of food from the trays before I returned to my table, barely remembering to grab cutlery.

I forgot a drink altogether, but I refused to get up once I sat down. The next time I got up, it would be to leave. I didn't want to be here any more than my fellow students wanted me here.

I ate without tasting, and when I was finished, I watched the room to try and take the social cues. Some kids left their plates on the table, others bussed their dishes in bins across the room. I didn't know what to do, but bussing seemed to be a wise choice.

I waited for the queue to thin before I stood and headed over, dumping my dishes. No one said anything to me, and I snuck by again, heading back out the doors I'd first come in. All I wanted was to go back to my dorm room and make a pros and cons list for staying in this insane asylum.

I made it back to my room without further incident, thankfully, and when I stepped inside my door, my feet faltered when I saw a figure across the room on the other bed.

Of course, it was the weird girl I'd sat with at dinner.

She didn't look up as I came in, locking the door behind me. I frowned at her. What was with that fucking journal?

"Hey," I said, hoping I wasn't about to set off a mental case. She didn't look up. "I'm Bella."

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

My teeth ground together, and I nodded.

"Fine," I said, turning to my bed. I was fucking tired, angry, confused, embarrassed, and frustrated. I needed something I could find comfort in.

I crossed the room, pulling my book out of the wardrobe where it was stashed with my backpack, before I stormed to my bed, yanking back the covers. I crawled in, kicking off my shoes but not bothering to change out of my uniform, and pulled my book onto my lap.

Curled up in expensive sheets reading a familiar book helped ease a lot from me, and before I knew it, I was drifting asleep.

…

My dreams were fitful stress dreams, each scenario that flashed by getting increasingly more high pressure until I felt I would wake having aged ten years. I'd had stress dreams before, but it was nothing compared to what was now going through me.

My brain was looping through a second round of a stress dream wherein I forgot how to read and suddenly I couldn't understand a single word communicated when I was jolted awake by long nails clawing into my skin.

I gasped, but before I could do much, a cloth was being thrown over my head and secured around my throat. I heard frantic whispers as I was dragged out of bed.

"Let me go!" I screamed, kicking at the air.

"Shut her up!"

I felt a fist connect with parts of my face through the cloth, but it wasn't enough to do much damage. A second punch connected to my cheek, and my head snapped back.

"Let go!" I choked out, my limbs flailing. Whoever had me had a strong grip on me, though. I could count at least four pairs of hands holding me up.

"Knock her out or she'll wake up the whole school!" Someone hissed. I realized I was screaming, blood-curdling screams, at the top of my lungs. Another fist connected with my mouth, and it was strong enough to bust my lip. Blood started to fill my mouth, and I tried to lean forward, spitting it out before I choked. I wasn't very successful though, because I was still being carried.

"You're going to regret ever coming here, trailer trash," a voice hissed near my ear. My blood was racing, the frantic thrum of my heartbeat a dull roar in my ears. I needed to get out of here, now.

When I finally managed to clear my airway, I took in a deep breath to scream again, but then a fist was connecting to my temple, and immediately, I blacked out.