The Little Dove #3 ✔️

41. A Hit On The Dandelion

"Oh, that's right. He said you were in New York for a while, that put distance and strain on you both, he even explained what else happened, at that academy of yours, so I did some digging. I am sorry, for what you've been through, Melanie, but I wouldn't completely cut Edmund from your life because he wanted to protect those who brought him out of his depression." He says to me, not gently but firmly, neither strict but stern. Just because he was older, he attempted to derail me into being susceptible to his thoughts.

I hang up the phone call, already fed up with the conversation and his choice of words, as if he knew or could understand. Perhaps, he could. Perhaps, he held that kind of understanding, bu the last I saw him, he was holding a gun to my head, first impressions may be overrated, but that is taking it to the absolute extreme...of the worst possible first impression one could muster.

Edmund would have called by now if Sampson told him he recognised me. Sampson didn't say he could identify me and neither did the males whom were with him. I step towards the academy, mind made up about looking into the supposed Academy council when a feminine hand clamps over my shoulder bone, I think fast, grabbing the hand and flipping the female over my shoulder, considering I knew Lorraine wasn't present and I didn't exactly make friends with many here.

She gasps and instantly, Principal Jewel grunts on the grass below me, I let go of her arm, "What the hell are you doing?" I ask her, forgetting the fact I was supposed to act like I had no clue she is a psychotic bitch.

She gives me a glare, "-should have remembered you had some kind of training." She mutters under her breath, turning up and straightening her blouse.

I give her a flat look, "What are you doing here?"

She purses her lips, "I take it you've known about Claude and I?" She says, in a small mutter, as if someone could be listening, not that I'd be completely surprised.

I raise a dark eyebrow, "I've known for awhile, what I don't understand is why you're with him and why you'd risk this much if your so in love with Forthright?" I ask her. She clenches her jaw.

I tilt my head, "You a have an ulterior motive? I figured that much. What's so vital that you must have an insolent idiot pining for you when in fact your pining for someone closer to your age?" I say, not-so-nicely.

She folds her arms, dropping the act in which made her seem as delicate of a flower as her name-how pathetic. She grimaces, stretching her back, "Never-mind why I'm with Claude, I want to know what you know about me?"

"Because I'm just that naive?" I say, sarcastically. I even pose it like a question due to how incredulous I thought the situation itself was, did she think her voice was enough to send truth enchantments spiralling through my brain and I'd spill every secret? She's as delusional as Johnson was.

She clicks her already clenched jaw, "I have something you'll want in return." She initiates.

I don't bat an eyelash, "Yes, well-is it so very odd that I don't truly believe you? Given who you are, what you've done? How much you've hid, even from the police as you act as if you were in the unknown?" I say, patronising her.

She narrows her eyes, "I doubt you know everything." She mutters.

I raise an eyebrow at her confidence, "I doubt you'd want to try me, given who I am and what I can do to make sure you stay behind a set of rustic bars for the remains of your miserable life?" I wasn't kicking around the bush, it's time the truth is set free and it will be done whether she allows it or not.

She huffs, heaving out a long breath, "At the festival, it was me. I tried to hurt you in the bathrooms as a warning when I saw how close you were getting with Forthright. I never cared for Iris because that one was too lost in her own feelings for him to remove herself from such a narrow-visioning fantasy." She mutters, staring into my eyes as the bridge lights flick on when the sun lowers past the horizon.