Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks, #1)(82)

Valentine begins to shake. Her eyes go vacant, her expression serene, as she lets the Guardian lead her from the room.

Are they really going to kill Valentine? This can’t be happening. They can’t do this—even the idea of losing one of the girls is unbearable. But I don’t know what to do. What can any of us do?

“This school is on lockdown,” Mr. Petrov announces. “There will be no phone calls, no parental visits. Campus is closed and open houses are canceled. The fences will be reinforced and the doors bolted at night. You will pay the price for your audacity.” He stops when his voice gets tight with anger. He takes a breath, and then begins again.

“Guardian Bose will step up your supervision,” he says. “Mandatory impulse control therapy will begin shortly—we have no way of knowing how far these poisonous ideas have spread. Make no mistake,” he says, wagging his finger at us, “your parents will not be removing you from this building until you are worthy. Nobody needs another opinioned girl. You will obey!”

The words take the air out of the room and make my skin crawl. We sit there quietly, afraid it might get worse. It can always get worse. I know that now.

Mr. Petrov glances at his watch. “You will report for classes in the morning as usual,” he says. “And if you get any more ideas, you will be isolated. And it can get very lonely,” he adds menacingly. “We can’t have you spreading discontent.”

And then the Head of School walks out.





25


That night, when Guardian Bose comes to my room to give me my vitamins—one yellow and one sedative—he stands there and watches me take them. I make a show of it, extra apologetic. The pills rest just under my tongue, and I can feel them dissolving, unable to do anything while the Guardian is here.

I can barely stand it. The idea of the silver tech gliding over my tongue and down my throat, or the sedative making me powerless with sleep, almost makes me gag. But the Guardian casts a dirty look in my direction and leaves to harass another girl.

The second he walks out the door, I spit the vitamins across the room. I take a mouthful of water and then rush to the bathroom, rinsing the bitter taste out of my mouth. When I go back to my room to destroy the evidence, I’m grateful to find the silver tech still contained inside its capsule. I pick it up and flush it away along with the sedative, knowing the Guardian will be back later.

? ? ?

The footsteps stop just outside my door like I knew they would. I’d been waiting—dreading—for hours. As the door opens, I relax my expression: lips parted slightly, tense shoulders loose, hand palm up. Defenseless in sleep.

The floor creaks as the Guardian walks into my room. I let my breathing sound congested, deep in sleep, slow and heavy—hoping he’ll just leave. It’s a fight to appear calm when my heart is racing.

I feel his figure pause over me, his shadow looming. He might be here to bring me down to the lab. To bring me to Anton to be reset. He might be here to kill me.

I want to open my eyes. I want to scream. But instead, I let my breathing catch slightly, and smack my lips together like he’s about to wake me.

He’s about to kill me.

The Guardian doesn’t move, and his presence is overwhelming. I wish I could run out into the woods, but they’re reinforcing the fence. There is no escape.

Guardian Bose is closer, close enough to touch me, I’m sure. I wait for it, working out in my head how I’ll fight back, but knowing I’m at a disadvantage in every way. He can break me with a single hit. I’m at his mercy, and the thought of that tears through my heart.

The shadow shifts over my face, and he’s closer still, hovering just above me. His cool fingers slide around my neck to choke me.

I’m about to scream for my life, but then, like a miracle, there is a thump from another room. I feel Guardian Bose turn toward it, and his hand falls away. There is the sound of his footsteps as he exits my room. The door shuts.

I jolt once but don’t open my eyes. My entire body hiccups with profound fear. Loss. I listen until Guardian Bose’s footsteps make it all the way down the hall and the door to his room opens and closes. And once I hear that, I sit up in bed and take in a huge gulp of air, my fingers on my throat, my eyes wide and fearful.

I continue to gasp for breath like I’m drowning. Tears stream down my cheeks as I stare at my doorway. My entire body shakes in a way that I can’t stop, my head bobbing, my arms like they’re being shocked with electricity.

I want to crawl into Sydney’s bed and tell her what’s happened. But I can’t chance it now. He’ll come back. He’ll drag me downstairs next.

I squeeze my eyes shut, crying silently. I’ve never been so scared—I don’t know how I can live and be this scared. I have a wild and irrational thought that my hair has streaks of white now.

I am at the mercy of these men. Of these horrible, terrible, abusive men.

And it’s crushing because I can’t change the circumstances right now. Not at this moment.

I know I can’t live like this, though. I won’t.

I pull the covers up to my chin, my body still jolting forward every few minutes, slowing as the adrenaline begins to wear down. Exhaustion is settling in.

Making it until morning is my new goal. Then I’ll talk to Sydney and the other girls—we’ll make a plan. We’ll get Valentine and run. We’ll never come back.