All For Us

Chapter 10 (Astra)

"Astra, wake up," a soft voice slowly coaxes me out of my slumber. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes. My gaze falls on a pretty face staring down at me, and I register that it's Wren. "About time," she says with a grin. "You've been out for a couple of days."

I glance around and realize that I'm back in the now all too familiar hospital room. Only this time, I'm on my stomach, most likely because they have to tend to my back. I can only imagine how it appears, no doubt a tangled mess of flesh.

The handcuffs that connect to those damn chains are still there, although this time there's about six inches of leeway on them. I pull on my right arm, testing my new boundaries. That movement alone causes me to wince in pain, but I realize that it's a lot less intense than the last time I was awake.

I turn and notice the IV station that's most definitely pumping morphine into me through a needle in my left arm. I face Wren again, confused when I see her watching me with concern.

"Yeah, sorry about that." My voice drips with sarcasm. "Guess they should've done their research about the consequences whipping has on a person's consciousness." Her face falls at my words and her gaze lands on my back.

I feel self-conscious under her stare, and I start to shift uncomfortably. She notices and returns her eyes to mine.

"I'm sorry about that. It never should have happened," Wren says, her tone laced with anger. Her reaction takes me aback. I thought she was in on it. I thought everyone here was. "As soon as he finds out about this, you'll be out of here. I promise," she tells me earnestly.

"Once who finds out about it?" I ask, wondering who she could possibly be referring to.

Wren turns abruptly. "I should go, I'm supposed to let you rest."

"No, Wren, wait!" I shout after her, but it's too late. She's already gone.

I sigh, frustrated. Why can't someone just get me the fuck out of here? My head is pounding, my body aches, and I just want to be unconscious again. My exhaustion weighs heavily on me. I start to fall back asleep, allowing the beeping of the machines to lull me into a slumber.

It's my first day of high school, and I'm terrified. I've never had an easy time making friends, and I fear that being at a new school isn't going to make a difference. The limousine I'm being escorted in pulls up in front of the school, and immediately, heads turn to watch as I step out of the car. 

My dad got elected a month ago, and already, everyone in the country knows what I look like. The transition from being a nobody to being shoved face-first into the national spotlight has not been easy, to say the least.

I bow my head as my peers whisper to each other, staring at me. I turn to walk up the steps and notice a woman in a light gray pantsuit approaching me. "Hello, Astra. Welcome to St. Andrew's Episcopal School. I'm Principal Green." She reaches out a hand, introducing herself. 

"Hi," I murmur back shyly, faintly holding her grip in what I know is a too-weak handshake. 

"We've been instructed by your mother that you prefer not to be bothered by the other students, so your studies will be conducted in private." My heart stops at the principal's words. 

"What?" I ask, confused. 

"The First Lady informed us that you have severe social anxiety and prefer to be alone." I do have pretty bad social anxiety, but I'm also a very social person by nature. Ironic, I know. Welcome to being a mentally ill extrovert.