The bed, this room, this entire fucking place can get tossed in a dumpster and set on fire. Rolling over once more, I scream my mounting frustration into the small pillow and slam my fist down onto the mattress. I don’t know why my parents insisted I come here.
I could’ve gone to any university; my grades are stellar, my GPA perfect. I’m smart as hell, and until a year ago, I was popular too. Now I’m a nobody, a crux that everyone stays as far away from as they can get. Tears form in my eyes, my anger rising with each breath I take, the more I think about how much I’ve lost.
Why did he have to do it?
I know for a fact when my father chose to work with the feds, he did so out of selfishness. He thought he could protect himself, maybe get less time in prison. The smart move would’ve been to never sell illegal guns in the first place, but what did I know?
In his plea, he gave up info on the Rossi family. One thing my father failed to realize was that Xander was a smarter criminal, and he was able to spin it all around and pin everything on my father. Everything he did, every ounce of information he gave away, was for nothing. In the end, it hurt not only himself but my mother and I also got dragged down with him.
Now he was off serving time in prison, and my mother and I were taking the fallout. I’ve lost every friend I ever had. No one wants to be seen with me.
My father might be the rat, but through association, I am as well. In the criminal underground, a rat is the worst thing you can be. People who are enemies will work together to bring you down because a rat is a loose end, and loose ends can bring empires to their knees.
Sighing, I stare up at the ceiling, wondering what I’m going to have to do to survive this place. Xander has become more ruthless and cruel since my father’s imprisonment. He hasn’t sent anyone to hurt my mother or me yet. But he is the reason no one wants anything to do with us. Frankly, he doesn’t have to do much anyway, not with the shitstorm my father left behind.
People want us dead simply because of my father’s choices. By talking to the feds, he hurt more than the Rossis; he hurt everyone involved in the deals he made, and that’s a lot of fucking people.
A lot of criminals have it out for me, and here, they could easily get to me. Why my mom sent me here out of all places is still a mystery, but she didn’t give me a choice in the matter.
I have no doubt in my mind that Quinton, Xander’s son, is here. We’d met a few times in passing at fundraisers and such, never conversing unless it was forced. Even though our fathers worked together, we ran in different circles. Quinton was set to become the heir to the Rossi empire, and I was going to go to college and become a doctor. It’s cliché, but it’s the truth. I knew what kind of person my father was, so I wanted to be the opposite. I thought becoming a doctor would balance the scale. I would help people, save lives instead of ending them. At least, that’s what I had planned.
I wanted nothing to do with this life while he was born and bred into it. I could only imagine the number of people he had already killed, the blood on his hands. The thought makes me shiver, and I force myself to think about something else.
Rolling off the squeaky bed, I gasp as my bare feet touch the cold floor. Yet another reason to hate this place. The constant cold is going to take a while to get used to. I grab my cell phone off the nightstand and cross the room, which is smaller than the one I have back home. I’m pretty sure they gave me someone’s old closet. I try to ignore the negatives and think a little more positively.
It’s only one year. If I can stay off Q’s radar, then I’ll be fine. Even if I have to walk through fire every day here, so long as I don’t draw the attention of the beast’s son, I should be fine.
Looking down at my phone, I check the time. 7:30. Panic bubbles to the surface as the realization of what that time means. I’m late. I’m supposed to attend the freshmen orientation in the atrium near the cafeteria.
Shit!
I can’t seem to make my feet move fast enough as I scurry around the room, rummaging through my suitcases for clothing. I pull on a pair of black leggings and a light sweater, then slip my feet into some running shoes. I was so tired last night I didn’t have time to look over my schedule or the school map, which I’m regretting now as I stare down at the half-crumpled paper. God knows if I get lost, the last thing I’m going to do is ask someone for help.