02 | Fiona Berg

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Chapter Two: The Blood That Soaks These Shards

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The shatter of the mirror rings through the bathroom. 

I stand there staring at the empty wall, my fist throbbing and covered in blood. Shards decorate the floor like a janky disco ball. My chest heaves, the cool air stinging my nostrils as it travels down into my lungs. This has to be it. I'm going crazy in some random classmate's bathroom. The black sequin dress I borrowed from Anja digs into my armpits.

My phone sits on the edge of the sink, the offending email still on the dimming screen. The nurse didn't even try to sweeten it so the promise of Adelis' death tastes as sour as rømme. Anger strikes through me, like lightning striking a powerline. I clamp my clean hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut. Ripping my hand away from my mouth, I grind my teeth and listen to the gnawing sound of bone against bone. Outside the bathroom, music drifts in and out, a shitty soundtrack to my life.

I have to see her. I make up my mind as the bathroom door slams open and in steps Nasha Adeyemi. Nasha's eyes trail from the empty wall to the shards of mirror littered around our feet. She raises an eyebrow, her lips spread into a wry smile. The sight of her is a bitter taste in my mouth.

Always smiling. Does she know what a frown feels like on her face?

"Bad day?" Nasha says, grabbing a roll of tissue from a hanging basket.

She doesn't ask anything else. She thinks she doesn't need to, I can see it in her eyes. Years of living at a foster home sharpened my eyes and tuned my ears. I'm a she-wolf, a predator stalking their prey, lying in wait for the right moment to strike. I shake my head to dislodge the thoughts. They are good when I'm at home alone with Kennet and the night crawls past, my fear growing with every hour. They are good when I need to escape. But not here.

I shrug, sliding my mask into place. Don't let them see a thing, baby doll. The words run through my head like a secret in Kennet's voice. For one stupid moment of weakness, I see his face, smell the alcohol that surrounds him like a swarm of flies. Then Nasha wraps my hand up, and the flies fall away, leaving a hollow feeling in my chest. Her new silk jumpsuit glitters in the light, clinging to the muscles in her legs, as tight as a condom.

Only the best for the best, right?

"Come on," she says once she's finished, smiling as she inspects my wrapped-up hand. "Lighten up, nye jenten. We don't bite at Asker."

Her hands tighten on my elbow, and she pulls me closer to the door. I plant my feet, straining against the strength of her. Stupid athlete. I don't want to go back to the sweaty room full of teenagers with glow-in-the-dark neon face paint. My hand stings and my face feels hot and swollen. The need to escape to the hospital burns like a forest fire.

"I need to see Rektor Bodil," I say, poking my bandaged hand. Blood seeps through some parts of the tissue, parting the soft fabric, and staining it red. "I know she might not be up now, but I have to try. It's important."

Nasha makes a small noise. I don't need to look at her to know that she's making one of her faces. Like the little curl of her lip when I ask her why they torture the girl with the missing sister. Or when I ask about the forest they all seem so afraid of.

"You promised you'd help us with Tiril. That you'd stay with me at the party until then."

I shrug. She's right. I had promised. "I can do that after I see Rektor Bodil. Not everything revolves around hurting other people you know."

Nasha opens her mouth. Flies spill from inside her lungs, slewing out of her throat and onto the floor in a thick pile of sludge. I blink, and the flies disappear, leaving a thoughtful look on Nasha's face.

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