“Get off me!” I snap, as she drags me down the dark hall as if I weigh nothing and without much effort. For someone so lean, she sure has a lot of upper body strength. Her nails dig into my skin, causing me to wince in pain. “Let me go, Clarissa!”
I attempt to peel her cold fingers from my arm without any luck, finally giving up when I realize I am on the losing end of this fight, same as always. Clarissa forces me to follow her up two flights of steps and stop in front of the attic door. Unlike most attics, it’s not your typical hole in the ceiling with the drop ladder setup. When my parents renovated the space, they had insisted it has the appearance of another floor. While the staircase seems a bit off at this end of the hall, it blends well enough that it doesn’t seem as odd to someone who doesn’t know any better.
Clarissa retrieves a ring of keys from her pocket and shoves one into the lock. The door swings open a few seconds later, and that’s when she lets go of me long enough to throw me into the room. I trip over my foot in the process, tumbling onto the cold hardwood floor. The heels in my hand fall and hit the wall with a loud clang and drop onto the other side of the bed.
Clarissa stares me down, and when she speaks, it’s with venom in her words, the sound of them so painful on the tip of her tongue. “Since you are too stupid to listen and know your place in this house, you will stay up here for the foreseeable future.”
She turns on her heel, and I crawl across the floor to stop her from leaving. I’m too tired and deflated to stand, as if my body is weighed down by sand, anchoring me to the floor. Without another word or glance in my direction, Clarissa slams the door behind her. I reach for the doorknob, as she turns the key, locking me inside the attic.
How much worse can my life possibly get?
Shawn
Ella hasn’t been to school in three days.
I’m worried sick about her and in need of answers. If Ella had a cell phone or any form of modern technology at her disposal, my concern might have lessened by now. My anxiety escalates with each day I don’t hear from her. When I spoke to Natasha and Anastasia on Monday, they had assured me that Ella was home sick and would not make it to school.
Tuesday they gave me the same story about how Ella was home puking her guts out. Maybe what they say is true, but even so, I am worried about her. If something were wrong, she might have called a friend, or so I had hoped. For all I know, Ella never made it into her house after our date. Or maybe something else is going on at that house of horrors.
Strolling into the cafeteria with a purpose, I make a beeline for Natasha and Anastasia, who are sitting at the end of my usual dinner table with their sorority sisters. None of my teammates, except a handful that uses them for sex, even want them here. I sure as hell have no desire to look at their smug, entitled faces while I eat a meal.
Angry, I press my palms on the wood, shaking the table in the process. I draw my friend’s attention at the other end. They wave or nod hello. But my focus is on dealing with these girls.
“Tell me what is going on with Ella right the fuck now,” I growl, keeping my voice low. “No more games. Something is wrong, and I want to know.”
Natasha flicks her dark hair over her shoulder and sneers at me. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Finch. Ella who?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.” Annoyed with Anastasia, I turn to her twin and say, “Stop fucking with me, and just tell me what is wrong with Ella.”
Anastasia shoots daggers at me and drops the fork clutched between her bony fingers onto the plate in front of her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone named Ella. Are you sure you have the right name?”
“Yes, you fucking do,” I shout, unable to control the rage brewing inside me. “You live with Ella. Quit acting like I’m crazy and tell me where she is and what is going on with her.”
Bash walks over to me and grips the collar of my shirt. He tugs on the fabric just enough to get my attention. “Calm down, man. You are causing a scene.”
“They know where Ella is and won’t tell me. I need answers. Someone had better start talking.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Bash shakes his head. “Ella is home sick. I’m sure she will turn up soon.”
“You wouldn’t say that if Tori hadn’t shown up to school all week,” I counter.
“If you’re that worried, then go to her house.”
“Easier said than done.” I walk away from the table to speak with him alone. “A gate surrounds her entire property. Ella’s stepmother won’t let anyone in without an invitation, and I am not getting one.”
“There has to be another way of finding out this information without harassing girls. No way are they going to tell you a thing. You will only look like more of an ass if you keep this up. If you want answers, then you go find them.”
Mulling over his words, I realize Bash is right. Anastasia and Natasha are never going to tell me any more than they did on Monday, especially not when they are around Harper and the rest of the Mean Girl Squad.
The back roads to Ella’s house are hard to navigate without any light. I pass by her house once, before I turn around and park between her gate and Mrs. F’s. Not a single light is on at Ella’s house. As per the usual, Mrs. F has her gate open and welcoming, while Ella’s is scary and uninviting. Choosing the path of least resistance, I turn the wheel and pull up the long drive to Mrs. F’s house.
She answers the door after the first ring of the bell with a dog in her hands and a smile on her face.
“Have you seen Ella?” I choke out, desperate for answers. “She hasn’t been to school all week. Her stepsisters won’t tell me where she is or if she’s okay. They keep telling me she’s—”
“Darling, slow down,” she interjects. “I’m an old woman. I can’t keep up with your ramblings. You must be Shawn.” I nod, and she continues,
holding her arm out, as she opens the door wider for me to enter. “Why don’t you come inside and have some tea with me, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”