UNFAIR
All around Ariana Osgood, the sounds of the emergency room dimmed to a dull hum. The flashing red lights outside the thick-paned window faded in and out. An ancient coffee machine in the corner hissed as it gurgled hot brown liquid into a mug. A few droplets of fresh, red blood splattered the tiles as someone limped by. A child cried. A mother screamed. Someone, somewhere, begged for help. But Ariana was unaware. For her, time had stopped.
For her, there was nothing in the world but Reed Brennan.
She must die … she must die … she must die …
The mantra pounded at the base of her skull like a drumbeat, a call to arms, a battle march.
She must die … she must die … she must die …
Ariana focused on Reed’s mouth. On her lips. The lying, back-stabbing, love-of-her-life-stealing lips, as they babbled away to a police officer. Spewing more lies, no doubt. Explaining things away. Claiming innocence. Poor, poor Reed. Always, always, always the victim. Steadily, the mantra grew faster.
She must die … she must die … she must—
There was a slam over by the admittance desk and suddenly the world zipped back into focus. Noise and color and light and pain crashed in on Ariana from all sides.
“… don’t know what happened,” Reed was saying. She hugged her scrawny arms around her scrawnier waist. “I thought she had a ride home. I was sure he was driving her home …”
A tear slipped from Reed’s eye and she swiped it away. Ariana tilted her head. It was amazing, really, how unchanged the girl was. Same bland, shapeless clothes, except, oddly, her coat appeared to be a bland Kenneth Cole number rather than a bland Old Navy. Same dirt-brown hair. Same off-putting angular features. Same dull brown eyes. She wasn’t as tall as Ariana remembered. Certainly not as strong. In fact, Ariana was quite certain that if she walked over there right now, wrapped her fingers around Reed’s skinny neck and squeezed, she could have her dead within a minute.
She must die … she must die … she must die …
Ariana’s fingers twitched at her sides. Her mouth began to water. This was it. Her opportunity. The moment she’d been anticipating for three long years. It would have been marvelous if she had been able to execute her original plan and shoved Reed off the roof of Billings House those many moons ago. It would have been dramatic and messy and best of all, done. But this … this would be so much more poetic. She would look Reed in the eyes as she died. Watch the light and the life go out of her. Feel her agony, her desperation, her fear. She would witness the very moment that Reed recognized it was over—that Ariana had won. That she had finally, finally won.
She must die … she must die … she must die …
“I should really call her roommate. She must be freaking out,” Reed said.
She tugged a cell phone out of her pocket and began to turn. In half a second, she would be facing Ariana. Their eyes would meet. Ariana couldn’t breathe.
“Ana. I need to talk to you.”
Someone grabbed Ariana’s arm. She looked up into the stricken, pale face of her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend, Palmer Liriano. His green eyes were raw and his brown hair mussed, as if he’d run his hands over it and back a thousand times. Behind him, Soomie Ahn sobbed against Maria Stanzini’s shoulder, her straight black hair sticking to the tears on her cheeks. Jasper Montgomery talked in low tones with Landon Jacobs and Adam Lazzerri, all of them looking fearful and gaunt. Tahira Al-Mahmood cried silently as her boyfriend, Rob Mellon, tried to console her. Everyone she knew was gathered around, looking out-of-place in their formalwear, elaborate hair, and carefully applied makeup as they whispered, blubbered, and prayed. Prayed for Lexa Greene, Ariana’s best friend, who had tried to kill herself by jumping through the glass roof of the greenhouse at Maria’s mansion.
And just like that, the drumbeat stopped. Ariana’s world snapped back into focus. Her real world. The world in which she now lived. One that didn’t include Reed Brennan. One that couldn’t include her. Reed turned toward Ariana, and Ariana buried her face in Palmer’s ches
t. She took in a few hopelessly broken breaths, squeezed her eyes shut, and closed her hand around her forearm.
Get it under control, Ariana. Get it under control.
She gripped her own arm as hard as she could, her fingernails digging into the skin.
“Ana? Ana? Are you okay?”
Palmer’s strong hands closed over her shoulders. He pushed her back slightly so he could look into her eyes. Ariana blinked up at him. In her peripheral vision, she saw that Reed was gone. Maybe outside to make her call. Maybe to the bathroom. Maybe back to the Georgetown campus, where Ariana knew she currently lived. Whatever the case, for the moment, the danger was over.
Slowly, Ariana began to breathe again.
She nodded shakily. “Sorry. I just … I got dizzy there for a second … thinking about all the … the blood,” she improvised.
“Okay. You’re all right now?” Palmer asked, his tone all business.
Ariana looked down at her arm. She was bleeding. Her fingernails had broken the skin. She covered up the wounds with her palm, trying not to wince, and nodded again.
“Anything new about Lexa?” she asked.
Palmer shook his head. “No.” Keeping his hands on her shoulders, he ducked his chin to look her in the eye. “Ana, you’ve been spending more time with her than anyone. Did you have any idea that she was thinking about … about doing this?”
“No,” Ariana said. “I mean, we all know she’s been acting a little off lately, but …”
Lexa had been acting more than a little off. Ever since Ariana had murdered Kaitlynn Nottingham in front of Lexa, she hadn’t been herself. She’d gone completely OCD and was prone to sudden, unexpected freak-outs and breakdowns. For the past few nights, Ariana had been feeding the girl Valium to help her sleep, and it seemed to have been working, but that evening Jasper had said something about knowing Ariana and Lexa’s secret, and Lexa had assumed the worst—wrongly. Before Ariana could tell Lexa they were safe, Lexa came crashing through the glass ceiling.
“But if you knew something, you would have told someone, right?” Palmer demanded, his eyes intense. “You know you’re supposed to tell someone? You’re supposed to get the person help.”