Prologue
Death has a stench.
It's stagnant and stale but still pervades each hollow moment. Sticking to everything it brushes, death and its clinging nature surround the world.
But at this moment, it's enveloping me.
Is this the end? My... end.
Woods encircle me, trees tall and voracious in structure imbuing the forest around Arcadia. My feet hit the fallen branches, cloying the universe with the sounds of my retreating form.
Please, spare me.
I'm sorry!
My heart pounds, a rapt noise hitting my bones, instilling more fear than the footfalls I know are behind me.
Snap, snap, snap. Their feet bite at the twigs, crunching with every movement. How close are they? Are they friend or foe?
But my gut knows. It feels the danger and promise. They're here to kill me.
My life isn't meant to be over. I'm still a teenager. I haven’t yet begun to live.
When you're forced into a family-based society saturated in blood money, murderers, and secrets that ensure danger at every move, this moment in my life isn't that foretelling, is it?
It's too dark.
The lake is nearby, the boulder, too. If only the trees were enough coverage from the brightness that seems to reflect down on me like a spotlight. But no, the moon hangs high, shining, showing my retreating form.
Even the birds have taken a silence, almost predicting an end cut far too soon.
Everything that'll save the young ones, the information needed to save us all, is within the files.
They've only got to find them.
I'm impacted from behind, my body falling to the ground. The thief of my breath tackles me, my air no longer inside me. Frantic, I brush off the figure and bolt in the opposite direction.
They'll save me.
They can help.
My chest heaves with adrenaline and the instinct to stay alive. I scream, begging for help, needing someone to know, just one person.
"Please! Help me!" I screech, knowing my voice will travel, carry across the trees, maybe to the ears of nearby students.
I need more time.
"Help!" My voice echoes, my throat growing drier from running and breathing too fast.
Fear is my only savior.
"Please—" I begin again before I'm once again taken down. This time, though, my ankle twists to the point of pain, and my scream is cut off short by a hand on my mouth.
Whimpering, I silently beg for my life.
I'm just a kid, my eyes say.
I haven't lived yet, my chest rises.
This isn't how my story is supposed to end, my tears offer.
The white light of the moon crests down upon me and the face of my murderer, and I gasp in recognition. He only moves his hand for a wink, a tiny moment lapsed in the blink of time, right before the knife he wields pierces through me. But that's not enough, is it?
The knife comes down.
Again.
And again.
And again.
One
Silence drags along my skin like my favorite blades. It’s voiceless, careless, staunching me with desperation to be seen. My scars are ugly, big, and scraggly, too. They beg for attention, as a motherless child lost in the woods would.
Can you hear me now?
Can I die yet?
Most people wake up with the thought in mind to conquer the day, but me? I pray that my lover, death, keeps me snuggled a bit longer.
Did you know the theory that sleep is your affair with death? You’re halfway there. You must keep your eyes closed longer.
This past summer, I begged my parents not to make me go back to Arcadia Crest. It’s not the same without Cassidy. It’s not even remotely bearable with him gone, but their indulgence for my needs left the building when he did.
Nothing seems to be tolerable anymore. Even breathing is a chore.
Like the dicks my parents have always been about their image, they told me I’m going. They’ve invested too much into the school to allow me to transfer to Cello Academy for girls, but I couldn’t help but try.
Arcadia Crest Academy—a huge preppy dick school in the middle of the mountains—is a wasteland for people like me.
Escaping Arcadia for good was the energy pushing me through the remainder of my sophomore year and the following summer. It kept me looking forward and not behind.
In the end, that final gavel—telling me that it wouldn’t happen—ruined all hope for peace.
When founder blood runs through you, you’re expected to bend for societal norms and to do what they expect and desire, a puppet of their own making. Being there sucks the soul straight from my body, plastering it over the halls for every elite douchebag to watch and smear.
It’s one of those schools that promises everything and, in turn, takes and takes until there’s less than nothing left of you. No one notices until it’s too late. That’s what it did to Cass. To me. To everyone who didn’t luck out. Even when their souls aren’t stolen, did they really come out triumphant? Or did they lose it all in another form?
Today, I’m supposed to move back to campus in a new tower. Crystal Tower, the one I was in before, only houses Student Gov. Since I’m no longer involved, I’m forced to relocate. We have live-in dorms at the school.
My mind falls to my brother while being reminded of the tower we shared. Cassidy Amos Hudson. Thinking of his nearly translucent silvery hair that used to match mine makes me sick. Not with nostalgia, no, with the memory of it coated thick with blood, tainting the ethereal appearance of it.
He’s gone.
I shake my head at the memories of him. It’s the only way to survive, the only way I won’t break down. Mom doesn’t like a hysterical daughter. It’s a stain on her perfect image. She doesn’t understand. If she did, she’d have allowed me to transfer to Cello.
Where they aren't.
Does she want me to live in a constant hell? In a school full of fakes, bullies, and trauma? There’s no longer a choice—if there ever was.
I’m heading back to Arcadia, whether I want to or not. It’s in a remote area in the Fraiser Mountains, away from politics, publicity, and normal people. To be the opposite of a social pariah while being one... interesting tactic.
After dressing in my normal not-Arcadia-approved clothes, I head to my vanity to put on my face. Immediately, I startle when connecting with my reflection. The once silvery hair is now a toxic green, matching the virulent lifelessness seeping through me.
A virus, just like my existence.
It reflects the death of a girl, bringing forth a despaired zombie filled to the brim with hatred for herself, the world, and every asshole whoever did her harm.
My silvery pale blue eyes, twins to my brother’s, no longer stare back at me. I don’t allow myself to look at them anymore. Every day since spring break last semester, I cover them with bright pink contact lenses. They don’t even look fake. If you never met me, you’d believe it’s the natural color of my eyes, and it’s why I’m constantly wearing them.
I’m not him. He’s not me. We look nothing alike anymore.
My parents appreciate my need to stop mirroring my brother. That’s why they can still look at me. It’s why they haven’t entirely shut me out.
Changing my entire appearance saved them from the pain of seeing the near doppelgänger of the child they lost.