“Depends. Can you be a good girl and do what you’re told, Claire?” There’s a challenge there.

I make myself take three steps into the dark room, and repeat what I told the board member. "I'll do anything.”

“Yes, the president said as much.” The eerie voice sounds amused. “Let’s see if it’s true. Kneel, Claire.”

I fight my body and all my instincts, but I do it. I get on my fucking knees, jaw tight, fists shaking.

“How about that? We have ourselves a good girl after all.”

A few chuckles ricochet off the walls, freezing my blood.

“Your punishment is four hours at the mercy of the council. You will not protest, no matter how much you want to. You will not speak unless prompted. And you will keep your mouth shut about what happens, permanently. If you breathe a word, you will be immediately expelled and extensive records of those four hours will be sent to everyone you’ve ever known. Understood?”

I should be shocked. I should be outraged. In truth, I am both unsurprised and relieved that they’re only demanding four hours, not the whole year, not my entire life.

“What will you do to me?” I whisper.

There’s a pause. “A great many things.”

“I'm a virgin.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, as I look down, cheeks aflame.

Because it will be sexual, I have no doubt. They are going to use my body for four hours.

It can’t be how I do that for the first time. I’ll remember it for the rest of my days, and it will be so awful. Fuck, I should have had sex with anyone. Keller, yesterday. Noah, ages ago. Anyone.

“Your pussy can be left out of the equation.” I lift my eyes to the masks, shocked. “No vaginal penetration will occur.”

“Really?” I whisper, completely dumbfounded.

That’s…kind. A lot kinder than expected. How fucked up is it that I’m finding that kind, and reasonable?

“Everything else is permissible. So what do you say, Claire? Is your comfort and dignity for four hours worth four years of tuition at Rothford to you?”

There's only one answer.

16. Claire

16

CLAIRE

“I’ll do it.” I swallow. “Whatever you want, for four hours.”

“How very obliging.” The man in the middle, in the blue mask—I was right then, he’s the speaker—lifts his hand to show me an alarm clock. “Tick-tock, Claire. Your time starts now.”

I don’t know why, given the fact that his voice is definitely modified, but something—his height, his way of speaking, or moving—tells me I know him. I say him, because he’s just too broad shoulders and tall, even under the cape, to be a girl. This means he is one of two options: Cross or Keller.