Emperor of Destruction [EDITING]

iii.

AUTUMN

"He did what?!" Clementine's voice bounced off the walls of the library. I swear, the books on the shelf almost fell. Just as I was about to shush her, the Liberian did, pressing a finger to her lips. Clementine muttered a short, quick apology, then leaned over the desk. "He did what?" She asked in a whisper.

Just like the rest of the academy, the library had a dark vibe to it. It had the same look as the library in Harry Potter.

Clem and I are seated at the back with our books opened and paper scattered everywhere on the desk. I'm filling her in on all the details from earlier, causally skipping over the part where the psycho said I followed him.

As much as I enjoyed my new friend's company, I wasn't about to tell her my entire life story. Trauma-dumping on a stranger was never my thing.

The expression on her face transformed from neutral to a look of fear, her eyes bulging out of their sockets. Peering over her slender shoulders, her eyes flicker around as if making sure no one is around. Once she's a hundred percent certain we're alone, she turns in her seat. "He chose you as his victim this year; this isn't good."

"What?"

I've known her for less than a week; however, I learned a lot. Like how meek she is when faced with confrontation and how the majority of the school mean mugs her whenever we walk past.

"Silas Westbrook is a menace to not only society but the school facility as well. Almost nothing interests him and the fact that you did isn't ideal.' She pauses. "Blend in the crowd. Avoid him; do whatever it takes. I don't want you to end up like the rest of the girls who got involved with a Westbrook."

Like the rest of the girls? How many girls did he corner on a rooftop, one foot away from pushing them to their death?

The topic moved to dorms. "So, what's with the dormitory placement at Darlington?" I asked.

Clementine looked up from the journal she'd been sketching in for the last five minutes. "What do you mean?" She questioned, her brows knitted together in utter confusion and her mouth agape.

"I overheard girls in the second period mention how the aces have a dorm house to themselves."

"That's true. There's a dorm house for the boys and one for the girls. Their parents fund the majority of the school and some, even the city. I grew up with them, but my parents aren't as influential, which is why I stay in the main dormitory."

***

Clementine's words resonated with me as I stood before the buffet table, piling my plate to the brim.

My stomach rumbles loudly at all the delicious smells. Clem and I walk over to the nearest table at the back and sit. She didn't have much on her plate other than a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of water. I, on the other hand, didn't miss an opportunity to grab a burger, fries, and a soda on the side. American, I know, but they didn't serve any Vietnamese food, which sucked complete ass.

Clem's talking to me—I hear her voice, but not the words coming out of her mouth. I'm too focused on the table in the center of the cafeteria. To be more specific, Silas Westbrook.

He's sitting next to his poisonous fiancee and their friends, who were all talking to each other except him. He was on his phone, doing god knows what. That goes for the curly head next to him with the tattoos and piercings, sketching in his book.

My eyes shift to his fiancé when she flicks her silky, long noir hair over her shoulders, covering her plump glossed lips and a dainty laugh with a perfectly manicured hand, laughing at something her friend had whispered in her ear.