Gilded Cage

Chapter Eleven

If there was something I hated, that was waiting. My mind, which needed to be constantly stimulated, was withering away, and I felt numb and uncharacteristically unmotivated to do anything. After a few days of just existing — sleep, eat, read and repeat — I couldn't take it anymore. Nothing could keep my thoughts from spiralling into a mess of what ifs and images of what had happened that night. I hadn't punched another wall, but my hands still itched to be wrapped around Jamie's pretty neck. I knew it was just a matter of time before I snapped again.

That afternoon, I was feeling even more restless than usual. After throwing my copy of Hamlet on the bed, I jumped up and put my coat on. Reading about murderous brothers and revengeful sons wasn't going to placate my brain. I needed to move, to do something. I didn't even have anyone to talk to. I hadn't seen Thomas or Christian since the last time we spoke and, somehow, I wondered if I was unconsciously avoiding them on purpose. I went to the dining hall when I knew they wouldn't be there, and to the library and my Common Room unreasonably late at night or an ungodly hour in the morning, before the sun even rose.

I would have spent my time at the cabin, with Alexi, if my disappearance wasn't going to raise suspicions. We could fake one's illness, it was easy to say that Paola was feeling under the weather and kept in her room, to pacify even the most determined nosey parkers at the castle; but we — Thomas, Christian and I — had to keep showing some resemblance of normality to everyone else and that meant showing up at meals, studying in the Common Room where people could see us and not going near the cabin for any reason.

"Hi, Ben."

I was startled at the sound of my name. I realised I had been standing in front of my room, lost in my thoughts, for I didn't know how long. Why did I leave my room? Oh, right. I wanted to take a walk. It was three in the morning and I had guessed that no one would have been awake, and most certainly not around, at this time. But here stood Clara, Selene's best friend. She was wearing a nightgown and slippers; her long, brown hair was tied in a messy bun and her blue eyes seemed sleepy behind the round spectacles. She looked exhausted.

"Hi. What are you doing up at this hour?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

She shrugged. Then, her chin trembled. "I couldn't sleep," she whispered. "I'm worried sick."

"Worried?"

"About Selene."

Fuck,

"What— what happened to her?"

"You didn't notice?" Her face twisted in a horrified grimace, like it was unthinkable for her that I hadn't noticed her friend missing. If she only knew how much I had actually been thinking about Selene.

"I'm sorry, no," I said, feigning ignorance. "What—?"

"She's missing!" Clara's suffocated scream echoed in the corridor.

"Is she?"

"Yes! Have you, by any chance, seen her around?"

"I'm sorry," I repeated. I didn't know what else to say.

Clara's shoulders sagged. "It's not like her to disappear without saying anything. One day she was here, and the next... oh, God. What if something happened to her?"

"Like what?" I almost laughed. "We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Well, there's the village not too far from here. People live there. What if someone hurt her?"

People. As in poor people. Clara was the youngest daughter of an Earl and one of the most spoiled and annoying little brats I had ever met. I had no idea why she was even here, but I was sure Selene was her friend only because she thought she could exploit her status somehow. Clara couldn't even fathom the idea that one of the students at St. Joshua's College could have anything to do with Selene's disappearance. It had to be one of those poor people living in rundown houses in the middle of the forest. Of course it had.