22
ASPEN
Paranoia skates down my spine, and every time I walk into my bedroom and close the door, I’m waiting for the second thathecomes walking in. Not knowing when Quinton plans to collect on his hour with me has me on edge. That’s a lie, not just on edge, but hanging off a cliff by my fingernails.
I hate having a favor loom over my head, even more, that it’s owed to Q, and I have no say on when he’s going to collect it. Scanning my key card, I enter the bedroom and close the door behind me. I press my back against the wood and let out a long sigh.
I don’t feel one-hundred-percent safe here, not while Quinton has a key card to my room, but I still feel more protected by these four walls than I do in all the time I spend walking the corridors between classes.
I add books to the stack that already exists on my desk and toss myself onto the bed, thankful that I have a mattress now. Damn Q and his bartering. If I wasn’t so weak, I might say no, but a lot of the things he offers help me, and I can’t pass up on a decent bed, food, and most of all, protection.
My computer is sitting on the desk beside the stack of books, and I move to grab it, opening it to check my emails. I don’t know why I bother. It’s not like anyone wants to talk to me. I almost laugh at how pathetic my life is. No friends, no one who truly cares if I’m alive. My parents act like they care, but do they really?
I’m about to close my computer and take a shower when a Skype call from an unknown number comes in. Moving the mouse to the answer button, I pause. Should I answer this call? It could be anyone. Indecision weighs heavily on my shoulders, and as if fate already knows the answer, my finger slips off the key, and I hit answer by accident.
The air in my lungs stills, and my fingers itch to grab the screen of my laptop and close it, but I choose not to at the last second, which also happens to be the same moment my father’s face appears on the screen.
I’m so shocked. All I can do is stare at the screen, wondering how the hell he managed to negotiate a Skype call from prison. On second thought, I don’t even want to know.
“Aspen, it’s nice to see you.” He smiles, and while he still looks like my father—balding head and soft green eyes—the bright orange jumpsuit and weathered look on his face reminds me of all the stress this must be putting on him.
“Hi.” My voice cracks. “How did you…?” I shake my head, “Never mind, I don’t want to know how you managed to call me from inside.” Right away, my defenses are up. If he is calling, it doesn’t mean anything good.
“That doesn’t matter, sweetheart.”
“Is something going on?”
“No, not here. Your mother informed me that you’re having a tough time at Corium. That people are after you.”
“After me would be a very loose statement. They want me dead but can’t find a way to do it without it causing problems.”
“You’re stronger than you think, Aspen, and even if it feels like the walls are crumbling around you, they’re not. There is no safer place for you than inside Corium.”
“It’s literal hell here.”
“Well, in case you need some leverage, I can tell you this…” He looks away from the camera and then back again like he’s trying to determine if someone is listening or watching him. “The answer to his question is Xander.”
Xander? And who’s question? “What are you talking about?” I ask, confused by the riddle.
“You’re smarter than you think, Aspen.”
“Smart has nothing to do with it, Dad. I don’t understand what you’re telling me—”
“I can’t say more than I already have since calls from inside are monitored,” he interrupts.
My lips part, and I’m about to say something else, but then the screen goes dark, and the call ends. Did he really just hang up on me?
I sit there baffled by the conversation, staring at the screen for five minutes before I decide to close it. What could that mean… the answer to his question is Xander. I already know it’s referring to Quinton, but I’m not sure in what sense.
Obviously, my father knows things I don’t, and instead of telling me, he’s speaking in a foreign language, leaving me to figure it out on my own. My frustration toward my mother and father has reached a new height. They both think I’m safe here, but I don’t see it, and I certainly don’t feel it. How can they think being hospitalized is safe? I was almost killed for crying out loud. Every day here feels like I’m one second away from being tossed into the pits of hell.
How can I continue forward? How can I make myself as feared as Quinton is? I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I have to find a way to make myself stronger. When Q was teaching me those moves in class, I had never felt so powerful, so in control.
In a lot of ways, it gave me strength that I never had before. Suddenly, I feel cooped up inside this room. Normally, I want to keep myself hidden, protected by these four walls, but I’m being driven to seek out something else.
I grab my key card off the desk, and my eyes catch on the edge of the map. There’s a book covering the majority of it, but in the bottom corner is the map key, and I notice a single word:sunroom.
Shoving the book off the map, I scan a route to the sunroom. I’ll push through a crowd of my enemies for a few moments of sunlight. I’m giddy with excitement when I leave the room. After the conversation I had with my father, this is exactly what I need.