Unfamiliar (Unfamiliar Series #1)

Chapter 18

I don't know how I end up in the headmaster's office.

But somehow, I do.

I can't remember...

I can't remember much of anything.

A heavy thrumming fills my head, making it hard to hear anything as my jaw feels heavy enough that I actively have to clench it shut. 

There's still blood on my hands and I clasp them together, palm to palm so I don't have to look at the stains.

I feel out of place in his office as I look around, seeing but not feeling like I'm really here. A wall of windows, though hidden by heavy draperies, lines the small alcove where his walnut, claw-footed desk rests. The headmaster sits behind it in a leather, high-backed chair that is a delicate shade of reddish brown. A computer screen sits perched not too far away, a small, carved stag figurine caught in a mid-step pose standing on the desk with its head turned in my direction.

The stag figure's eyes on me almost feels like an accusation. 

There's a clock on the fireplace that is ticking, the noise drilling into my brain as I sit in the seat across from the headmaster. A Persian rug sprawls across the dark, hardwood floor, the pattern immaculate and bright and feeling all too wrong beneath my dirty sneakers. The walls have a dark shade of russet wood-paneling covering them and I feel stifled in a room that is too dark, even with several lamps turned on.

Everything feels too close. 

It makes me want to scream. 

It's only after a few minutes of sitting here that I realize that the headmaster is talking to me and I blink and focus on his face.

"Kara, I know that what you witnessed must be traumatizing nonetheless, but there are some people who need to speak with you," he says and it's the first time that I've really looked at him.

The headmaster looks much like Astrid and Eleanora, the same high cheekbones and sculpted, petite nose that is perfectly centered in his more masculine face. He has the same flawless skin though his is slightly unsettling with the way it gleams, like he's been crafted from wax. A set of blue eyes that are lighter than Astrid's watch me, waiting for a reply as he steeples his fingers in front of his mouth like he's deep in thought.

"O...okay," I murmur, finding my voice and realizing at the same time that my throat feels raw, though I don't remember screaming.

He smiles and his nearly silver eyebrows rise with relief, "I do apologize for the promptness, but it is imperative that you tell them everything that you witnessed, your parents have been reached out to and have been informed, they've consented to you being questioned."

There is a short silence and, while he doesn't move, the door to his office suddenly opens. His eyes flick past me and he stands. Though I don't know if I can do the same. I have the sudden sense to sink into the chair beneath me and wither away.

But I don't, instead, there's a feminine-sounding throat clearing behind me and it finally piques my attention into looking in its direction.

A woman in a police uniform stands in the center of the office, which consists of book cases and a fireplace along one wall while a couch and two chairs are sat in the center of the room. The woman is tall and her pale cheekbones are razor sharp, giving her a bird-like appearance as she stands with her hands clasped behind her back. She's pretty and built much like a dancer is and her eyes are a light blue as pale lips draw back into a smile when I make eye contact with her.