Hunting The Princes Of Veridian Prep

The night before I was due to start at the exclusive academy, I scrolled across a post that stopped my breath.

[The new Cinderella arrives tomorrow. Which of our Princes should we send out this time?]

[Heard shes got a pretty face. Should we just ruin it first?]

[I bet this Cinderella won't last a year before she's gone.]

[Ill take six months!]

[Hope this one sticks around longer, or well be bored again.]

My hand paused, moving the contents of my carry-on. A heavy-duty taser, military-grade pepper spray, a vial of white phosphorus, a miniature fillet knife disguised as a barrette

A year? I think I can manage a year.

I was born with something broken insidea natural anti-social streak.

When I was ten, my stepfather tried to grope me. I met his burning expression with a blank stare, then calmly tossed a pan of scalding oil onto him before using my bare hands to crush the thing he prized most.

At eleven, the neighbors pit bull tore a chunk of flesh from my leg. After the incident, the old woman who owned the dog not only refused to pay for my stitches but swore I had tormented her pet while she was out, claiming I deserved the attack.

A few days later, while she was at the grocery store, I lured the dogBuddyout to an abandoned lot with some sausages. I meticulously sliced the hide from its body, then went home and made a slow-cooked dog meat stew.

When the old woman returned, I personally delivered the steaming bowl to her.

She ate it, lips slick with grease, complaining only that the meat tasted gamey.

Later that night, she realized Buddy was missing. She searched for a full month, growing sicker with worry until she collapsed in the street and was taken to the hospital.

I went to visit her, carrying a fruit basket. As she watched me, tears welling up from gratitude, I leaned in close.

Hehe. Did you like Buddys meat?

I cooked a huge pot just for you. Did you love it?

The old womans eyes bulged in absolute terror, her throat making a sound like a punctured bellows.

After I left, her heart rate spiked, her blood pressure shot up, and she died right there, a victim of her own shock.

When I was thirteen, a psycho classmatea yandere in the online termsfilmed me in the bathroom and posted the video anonymously.

That same evening, I texted him, asking him to meet me on the school roof, wearing something deliberately revealing.

Under his feverish, predatory gaze, I hit him once with a brick. When he collapsed, I stripped him, bound him to the railing with duct tape, and left him exposed to the biting night wind.

W-w-whimper Queena, Im so sorry. Ill never do it again. Please, let me go! he begged, tears mixing with snot on his bruised face.

I smirked, then logged into his heavily secured social media account, set up a tripod, and started a live stream.

Overnight, the boy became an international joke.

I deleted every trace of our conversation and, knowing exactly what I was doing, dropped a USB drive containing ten gigabytes of other girls videosfootage hed takenright outside the police station.

The investigation was launched immediately. His parents, desperate to avoid a larger scandal, chose to forgive me for the assault.

I sat in the interrogation room, laughing like a maniac.

Everyone learned to fear me, to avoid me.

Until I got the call from the hospital.

My sister, Stella, had jumped.

She was in the ICU, fighting for her life.

I hung up the phone without emotion and returned to tasting a sickeningly sweet slice of cake at a local caf.

It was my fifteenth birthday. Stella had promised to come home for it.

I glanced at the long, emotional text message shed senta final missive, probably, before she jumped. It was sentimental and mushy. I skimmed it, lost interest quickly, and powered off my phone.

The police tracked me down and gave me their conclusion.

They offered a flimsy explanation. Queena, your sister, Stella Sullivan, was under immense pressure at Veridian Prep and, in a moment of depression, took her own life

Depressed? Suicide?

They handed me a leather-bound diary, her last possession.

My sister had always been fiercely protective of me.

Shed give me her favorite toys, her prettiest dresses.

When our parents divorced and fought over custody, it was Stella who clung to me, telling the judge she only wanted to be with her little sister.

Our parents saw me as a monster and openly despised me.

Because of Stella, Mom was forced to take us both when she remarried.

When my stepfather became abusivethe time he pinched my face and tried to hold me under the water in the laundry sinkit was Stella who launched herself at him to save me.

She paid for it, badly. He hit her face with a flurry of heavy blows. Her brow bone shattered, requiring a handful of stitches at the hospital.

Yet, she always remained relentlessly optimistic, even comforting me when she woke up.

See? Your big sister is fine, right?

As long as my Queena isn't hurt. Youre my little sister, and its my job to protect you.

The gentle touch on my hair was warm and comforting, yet I only tilted my head, confused. I never understood why she was so stubbornly determined to protect a monster like me.

On holidays, even in our cramped, run-down apartment, Stella would arrange a colorful spread of humble treats.

Shed place my favorites, peeled clementines and crisp, red apples, right on my bedside table. Queena, its a holiday. Look what I bought! All your favorites.

I opened the diary, and a sudden, inexplicable tear splashed onto the white page.

A strange emotion bloomed in my chest. A deep, hollow sensation, like something essential had been ripped away.

I went to the hospital to see Stella. She was pale, wearing a breathing mask, and hooked up to countless tubesbarely clinging to life.

I scoffed. Stella Sullivan, you are such an idiot.

Shed been accepted to the elite Veridian Prep on a full scholarship for her academic excellence.

Less than six months later, she was here.

The diary she left behind was missing many pages.

I flipped through, one by one. The last intact page was covered, front and back, in a single wordESCAPE.

The handwriting was shaky, as if the author had used every last ounce of strength to write it.

Soon after, it was time for my entrance exams.

I scored the top result in the entire city and was granted a scholarship to Veridian Prep.

Veridian only accepted three scholarship students each year. The last was my sister. This time, it was me.

I spent the entire summer training at the gym.

The rest of the time, I worked shifts at a caf.

I visited Stella daily, occasionally talking to her IV drip.

Soon, the school year was about to begin. The night before orientation, I put on the Veridian uniform.

The quality was excellent. Even the loose, pleated skirt perfectly showcased a girls pale legs.

I admired myself in the mirror while refreshing the site for the latest posts.

As expected, the thread had been updated.

[OMG! So hyped! Cinderella arrives tomorrow!]

[Hehe, which of our school Princes is going to make the first move?]

[Same old games tomorrow? Honestly, Im kind of over it. Can we spice it up?]

[Right, heard shes actually hot. Should we just ruin her face first?]

[I mixed up some industrial-strength cleaner in Chemistry yesterday. Should come in handy.]

[Hehe, I bet this Cinderella won't last a year.]

[Three months! Im betting three months!]

[Didnt the last one break the record? Lived for so long. Every time we bullied her half to death, shed be delirious, muttering about how she had to survive, had to live for her little sister]

My hand clenched around the handle of my luggage. I looked at the array of toolsthe taser, the pepper spray, the white phosphorus, the micro-knife.

Will these things be too childish for them?

I closed my eyes and lay down. The thought of what tomorrow would bring made my mind buzz with explosive excitement.

The next day, I looked up at the stunning, artistic architecture of the academy. I curled my lips into a pleased smile.

The moment I stepped onto the campus, hushed whispers erupted around me.

I ignored them, adopting an expression of nervous timidity.

Snap! Something hit the back of my head. I reached up and my hand came away sticky with blood.

A small, silver ball bearing rolled on the ground. Quickly, a second, then a third. The metal spheres came flying like bullets, aimed right at my body.

I screamed and began to run frantically, stumbling as I tried to escape.

People all around me raised their phones, capturing my desperate, pathetic struggle.

Haha! Look at her!

Thats pathetic, even for a scholarship kid.

Just running? I think the last one at least tried to fight back.

So, thats what it was. Was this how Stellas first day started?

No wonder. No wonder she came home that first evening with a bloody mess clotting the hair at the back of her head, lying that shed just tripped and fallen.

Just as I lost my footing and crashed to the ground, a pair of pristine white sneakers appeared before me.

Are you okay? A boy, backlit by the sun, reached out his hand.

I squinted, then placed my hand in his.

His voice was clear and pleasant. You must be the new student? Are you lost? What made you fall like that?

His warm eyes studied me carefully, as if trying to etch my image into his memory.

By the way, Im Jasper Lowell.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping into an intimate whisper by my ear.

Im a year ahead of you. Your Senior.

I raised my head and caught the flicker of pure malice deep within his eyes.

He was the one who shot the ball bearings.

He just finished tormenting me, and now he was here, trying to earn credit?

I stood up, wrapping my arms around his waist with a smile.

You little son of a bitch. Think youre so handsome?

I lifted my foot and stomped down hard on his sneaker.

Jasper yelped immediately.

He looked down and saw I was wearing heavy-duty, studded leather sneakers.

His face twisted in agony. He shoved me away violently. Ah! You psycho!

I laughed and stomped his foot again. Senior, whats wrong, Senior?

Jasper couldn't take the pain any longer. He pushed me away one last time and hobbled toward the Nurses office, limping badly.

When I arrived at the classroom and pushed the door open, a large bucket of stale mop water cascaded down from above.

A group of girls clamped their hands over their mouths, giggling hysterically.

The moment the bucket dropped, I twisted my body and kicked the heavy plastic container directly into their faces.

The ringleader, Madison Croft, was stunned. She was instantly soaked from head to toe, reeking of sour, old filth.

You! You! Ahh! Im going to kill you, you peasant bitch!

Madi shrieked and charged. I didn't even have to move my hands; I simply sidestepped. She tripped, went face-first, and sprawled out on the floor like a beached whale.

The other two girls wouldnt dare touch me. They looked at me as if I were something terrifying and shoved each other aside as they fled.

I finally reached my seat and, sure enough, found the word BITCH carved into the desk, glue smeared across the seat, and a selection of roaches and other bugs stuffed into the drawer.

I picked up the entire desk and tossed it into the nearest recycling bin, then went to the supply room and hauled back a brand-new set of furniture.

The forum post updated quickly.

[AAAH! That little whore! She dodged every single trap!]

[She actually splashed the filth on me! I am not letting this go!]

[Calm down, Madi. Calm down. There are still other plans, right?]

[That was just an appetizer. Shell realize soon enough that this school is her hell.]

[Dorian and Zane, when are you going to make your move?]

[The 'Pursue the Peasant' game is your specialty, isnt it?]

[I remember the last one was so broken, you two had her trained like a dog. She knelt down and licked your shoes!]

As predicted, two handsome boys soon appeared by my side.

One was Zane Miller, with a deceptively innocent face. He claimed to be in my year, even two months younger, and constantly called me "Sister" or "Big Sister."

He brought me breakfast, took me to skip class, and after playing basketball, would approach me, sweaty and panting, begging for a head scratch.

The other was Dorian Wilde, the Student Council President. He was aloof and aristocratic, but allegedly, he was only ever kind to me.

He brought me hot tea during my period. A stickler for rules, he made exceptions just for meallowing me to leave early or arrive late. He stepped in whenever anyone tried to bully me, and on my birthday, he folded me ninety-nine paper stars.

It was a convincing performance by both of them.

I enjoyed two months of easy living.

No one dared to mess with me.

There was always someone to get me water or snacks. I didn't even have to go to the cafeteria. I just opened my drawer, and there were muffins and sandwiches.

Until Dorian Wilde invited me to meet him in a secluded section of the campus woods.

Now, his mask of gentle warmth was completely stripped away.

Dorians breath was hot against my ear. Queena, do you like me?

I havent told you this, but I have a specific need.

He unsealed a designer shopping bag and pulled out an itema ridiculously sheer, lace lingerie set.

Would you put this on, just for me?

I picked up the scrap of black lace with my fingertips. Sure, I will.

Then, under his expectant gaze, I slapped the cheap fabric right across his face.

Dorian froze.

In that instant of shock, I pulled the pepper spray from my pocket and hit him directly in the face.

Dorian clutched his eyes, howling. Ah! Queena Sullivan, what did you spray me with?

Pepper spray. Figured I needed protection from predators.

Dorian tried to charge at me, his eyes bloodshot.

I smirked, picked up a heavy branch Id stashed nearby, and swung it hard at the side of his head.

Dorians eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious.

I dusted off my hands, unlocked his phone with his finger, and found the password-protected folder.

Inside, it was a gallery of naked videos of various girls.

My eyes narrowed. I quickly found the video of my sister.

In the footage, Stella was doubled over, covering herself, her face slick with tears.

At that moment, the online thread updated.

[Dorian, did you get it done?]

[Did you take the video of that bitch yet?]

A pink avatar posted several frantic messages.

[Dorian, dont tell me you actually fell for the scholarship girl?]

I typed back: On it.

Then I raised the phone, aiming the camera at Dorian Wilde.