My Devoted Demons

Chapter 10 - A Pyramid of Deception

"Henry." He swallowed. "Henry Kendare." His voice shook ever so slightly, but it was obvious that he was trying to cover it up and make it seem like he was perfectly stable.

I tore my eyes away from him and crossed my arms over my chest, unsure of what else to say.

Henry cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. His hands had left his pockets, and they were now rubbing up and down the sides of his black jacket

"Well, um," he started. "The doctor said that your cheek should be fine, and so should your stomach, but he wants to keep you here for a few days to make sure nothing else is wrong."

I simply nodded and looked straight ahead at the wall across from me, not wanting him to be in here anymore.

"I guess I'll just let you go, now." I nodded again, and he stood there for a second longer, his eyes burning into me like lasers, before turning and shuffling out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Now that I was finally alone, I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath, trying to shove down the ball of emotions clogged in my throat.

"It's okay, you're okay," I whispered to myself. I bit my lip, hard, and opened my eyes again to the sterile room surrounding me. Not a single window. Not a single thing to entertain me apart from my own thoughts.

Just hang on a little longer, I thought to myself, grasping onto the final strand of hope that faintly shimmered inside of me.

~~~~~

Roman

We still didn't have Gwendolyn back. I wanted to magically make her spawn into my arms, but that wasn't possible. We needed to come up with a plan.

"Is there any way to come up with that kind of money before noon tomorrow?" Caspian asked. He didn't ask any of us in particular, but I knew his words were pointed at me.

Both Caspian and Atlas were on a scholarship at this school.

Caspian's parents had died when he was ten years old, and he had been left to take care of himself and his four younger siblings for months until the CPA found out, and put them each in a different foster home. Caspian's "foster parents" consisted of a cigarette-smoking, part-time-Walmart-working, emotionally-neglecting single mother who didn't even have custody of her own two children. Caspian was again left to raise himself for another four years until he got into Whitmore on a scholarship.

Atlas had grown up in a dingy trailer park with his mom, whom the neighborhood called a "drug-addicted, free-use slut" because of the constant smoke trailing out of her mobile home, and the never-ending cycle of men that visited her. Atlas had been a mistake she'd made with a one-night stand eighteen years ago that she decided to keep for the hell of it. Atlas had been stuck mowing people's lawns and cleaning their gutters for years until he too was given a scholarship from Whitmore.

But my parents...my parents founded and owned the school. They had built this school from the ground up and established its prestigious reputation. Their net worth was well into the millions, and they had even set up a trust fund for me, but I couldn't access it till I turned eighteen, which wouldn't be for a few more weeks.

"I could ask my parents for early access to my trust fund," I offered.

"But wouldn't that be suspicious? You just told us that your father has the same brand on his skin as the guy in the video." Caspian was right. It would be suspicious. But I had an idea.

"Then we create a reason for it," I began. "We could tell them that we're planning our spring break trip and need the money for it."

We stood in silence for a moment, each of us pondering my idea and weighing the odds.