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I Need A Doctor

“ W ho could that be?” Allison says with a look of irritation. “Everyone knows we eat dinner at this time; it’s rude for people to just drop by without warning.”

If it’s for me, my guess is they don’t give a fuck about her ingrained Southern mannerisms.

Brett drops his napkin next to his plate, a matching expression of annoyance on his face as he stands. “I’ll make sure this rude visitor understands the rules.” He turns to glare at me, then tilts his head at the twins. “No one is expecting company, correct?”

I shrug and shake my head, not wanting to admit my complicity with another dinner interruption if I’m wrong. The twins snort and go back to eating, which I suppose we should translate as a ‘no.’ Both of my fosters exchange a look and my brows furrow when I see it. It’s like they know something we don’t, but didn’t want to address it unless we all claimed innocence. I’m not surprised by shunting the blame around, but their shifty glances make me wonder what they’re hiding.

Other than that weird safe where I found Dottie. I still haven’t been able to process that shit.

Pushing my food around my plate, I wait while he strides into the living room to answer the following ring of the doorbell. Whoever it is won’t stand for being ignored and it makes hope flare in my chest. The letter was very clear that the person from Discordia would make certain I could leave and then take care of any paperwork necessary. Even if I’m trapped pretending to be Kit for four years, that’s still better than any alternative I have now.

Suddenly, a shout comes from the other room and Allison drops her fork to push away from the table. She fixes a glare on me, and I have no idea why. I mean, sure, it’s probably about me, but how does she know that? Maybe it’s a fucking burglar.

“Way to piss off Mom, nerd,” Bryce mutters as he heaps more food on his plate while no one is looking. “She’s going to ground you forever.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I don’t think so. I haven’t done a damn thing wrong and I have no idea what’s going on out there. Get bent.”

Blake grins and I don’t like the look in his eyes. It’s dangerous and they usually reserve those looks for the poor souls they torture at school. “If you ruin tonight and they don’t let us go to the football party, I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

“Please. You wouldn’t dare touch me,” I scoff. My words are tough, but his threatening tone makes my anxiety ramp up and I have to put my hands in my lap to hide the start of trembles. I’m not scared of them, per se, but I know they can make my life miserable both in and out of school if this Discordia falls through. I don’t know if my nerves could take having to watch my ass more than I already do.

Bryce arches a brow as he cleans the meat off a bone. “You’d be surprised what can be done without leaving bruises for people to see. We hear lots of shit at the team parties when adults are too drunk to think we’re paying attention. You’ve been screaming for us to put you in your place, little kitty Kat.”

Holy shit. What the fuck are the men in this town talking about over old films of glory days and booze?

My gaze narrows and I remember the stun gun I bought after the incident four homes ago. I haven’t been carrying it at this one because the twins seemed like assholes, not sadists. Apparently, all they needed to flip that switch was some bullshit sport school to validate their egos. Now they think they’re untouchable and whatever horseshit they’ve been hearing the adult men say in private has encouraged them.

I wish I was stunned, but I’m not. It’s shocking but never surprising to find out what men are capable of. Women all over the world learn this shit every day and we have to navigate the fallout once it’s clear. I fucking hate it and it’ll surround me at this school. Schooling my disgust will be impossible, so I’m going to get a reputation as a snitch with so-called ‘locker room talk’ and stories about assault.

Oh, well. I’m not there to get popular.

“Get in here, you ungrateful snot!”

Blake smirks. “They’re calling you. Remember what Bryce said.”

I give him a cool look, smiling sarcastically. “Trust me, I won’t forget it.”

Rising from the table with as much grace as I can muster, I flip them both off, then head for the source of the rude-ass bellow. It was Brett and I haven’t heard him shout like that in a long time. He’s usually the calm, detached one of the pair, leaving most of the discipline to Allison. If he’s this worked up, it’s a huge deal.

The sight that greets me when I walk into the living room is puzzling as fuck—I get why Brett lost his cool. He and Allison are standing huddled together as they stare at a seven foot tall person dressed all in black sporting a fedora with a jaunty feather and a plague doctor mask.

Everything about the visitor reeks of money and power, but their posture is relaxed as they turn to look at me. The voice that follows tells me the person is likely male, but that’s all.

“My name is Dank and I have the distinct honor of being sent to retrieve you, Master Camponella. If you will be so kind as to gather your things from your quarters, I will escort you to the vehicle post haste.”

I’m sorry…what?

“You can’t just… we’re foster parents! I don’t give permission for this,” Brett splutters, as he stares at the strange-looking guy dressed like it’s Halloween.

I think Mr. Scary Birdface is amused, but I can’t tell because of the mask. His shoulders shift a little and he sighs, looking at me again. “Please get ready. I will handle this.”

Allison lets go of Brett’s arm, advancing on me as the twins get off their asses to join us. They’re glaring at the guy as if I stole their birthright somehow, and I know for a fact they don’t have a clue about Discordia. They just hate seeing me get anything they can’t take and if Allison does something stupid, they’ll back her play one hundred percent. I step away from her grasp, heading up the stairs as I hear crashes behind me.

Looking back is a bad idea and I will not do it—whatever happens, it’s on them.

“Get in the bag!” I hiss at Dottie as I pull my suitcase out from under the bed. The kinkajou scampers over and does as I ask, relieving some of the pressure in my chest. I would never leave her behind and I sure as hell don’t want her in the middle of whatever it’s going to take to get me out of here.

Books, electronics, chargers, and anything I’d left out for a hasty retreat get slung into the big case. Moving quickly, I run out into the hall and to the bathroom so I can salvage the personal products I need from it. Dumping them all into a plastic bag, I tie the top and rush back to my room. That bundle joins the rest of the stuff and I go back to the closet, checking to make sure no one’s followed me so I can pry up the other loose board. The rest of my money stash comes out easily, and I put it in the wallet in my bag.

Dottie moves so I can get the wallet back in my messenger bag and I whisper, “I don’t know where we’re going or how, but we won’t be back. Just stay out of sight until I get us to a place where I’m sure no one will separate us, okay?”

A soft chitter is my answer and I stuff a few more things from my bookshelf into the suitcase because I have room. I think I have everything that I truly feel is mine and if that’s true, then I can finally say goodbye to this place.

There's something very satisfying about that thought.

Taking one last look at the last foster home I’ll ever see, I grab my shit and head to the stairs. I’m not one to be sentimental because I have had nothing to feel nostalgic about since the incident. I’m still surprised when I descend the stairs to see Brett, Allison, and the boys sitting on the couch stiffly. Both twins have a black eye and Allison’s hair is a mess. Plus, something smells… burned?

What the actual fuck went on down here?

The way they’re all glaring, I decide it’s better to ask the creepy doctor when we’re out of here. I’d prefer not to arrive looking like I’ve been in a brawl. I have no idea how fancy everything is at Discordia, and I’m self-conscious enough as it is. My lie is taking up every spoon I have and my foster family’s woes will have to take a backseat.

“I’m ready, Dank,” I mumble.

No one moves, nor do they say one word—typical. I can’t see if my escort is surprised or not because of the mask, but he grunts when he takes my case. That might have agreed with my look of disgust, but who knows? Turning on my heel, I follow the mysterious dude out of the house without saying goodbye. No one there cared enough to speak and though I was never abused like some kids, I realize their neglect is part of the compounded trauma my therapist is always going on about.

Speaking of which…

Dank leads me to a large, dark SUV and when he opens the passenger door, I look up at him. “I have medication I need. I have enough for two months but… your letter assured me you’d be able to handle that and um… my doctor appointments?”

He lets out an odd, strangled laugh and my eyes widen. What did I say?

“Discordia has a full service medical facility and staff, Master Kit. You will receive information on your devices that allows you to book appointments with anyone you need to set up medicine or recurring visits with. Do not worry—everything you desire is provided for in your new home.”

Nodding, I frown to myself as I pull the door closer. I’m not sure I’d phrase it as ‘everything I desire,’ but my anxiety meds and therapy appointments are necessary. One keeps me able to function, and the other is helping me process enough that I can sleep at night. I barely slept an hour a night when I got to the foster home after the one I was in when ‘it’ happened. By the time I got to the Jameson’s, I was up to four hours and now I can do almost six.

Hooray for facing your deepest fears!

Dank gets into the driver’s seat, not removing his hat or mask. That scares the hell out of me, but I just put my hand in my bag and stroke the soft fur of my extremely well-behaved kinkajou for comfort. How he’s going to see the roads, I have no idea, and that’s making my blood pressure kick up.

“I can keep us safe. You may allow your animal out of that bag, if you wish. No one will attempt to take her from you.”

Jesus H. Christ on a skateboard; how did he know?

“While I am blind, Master Kit, I have many other senses to guide me,” Dank replies creepily.

I guess mind reading is one of them because I did not say that out loud. My eyes cut to the plague mask, looking at it more carefully in the close quarters. There are symbols and sigils carved into it and it looks like the material is exotic. I hope it’s not ivory; that would make me very sad and I’m sort of digging the weird chauffeur.

“It is ivory, but it is from an animal you would not be familiar with. I did not kill a rhino or elephant as you are imagining.”

Thanks. What in the fuck did he kill to get ivory that I’m unfamiliar with?

“There are more things in heaven and Earth, Horatio, than dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Okay, so if Dank is some sort of serial killer or weirdo animal hunter, he’s a well educated one because he just quoted Hamlet at me.

“I wish I’d been able to convince my foster parents of that. They seemed to think I wasn’t destined for much because I’m a foster kid,” I reply softly. “They didn’t get it when I told them ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.’ It just made them think I was trying to make them feel dumb.”

That odd laugh echoes in the vehicle as we speed along a road I didn’t even notice us driving to.

“I like you, Master Kit. Be careful at Discordia.” He pauses for a moment. “Many of the students are raised to be far more cutthroat and ruthless than your foster brothers. As they say, ‘he who sups with the Devil should have a long spoon.’ You should trust no one until you have thoroughly vetted their intentions.”

I blink as I take that in.

Just. Fucking. Great.

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