When I arriveat the anatomy lab the next day, Rachel is staring down at the cadaver with a horrified expression on her face.
We’ve been working on the arms and legs—earlier in the week, Rachel completed a perfect dissection of the left arm, undoubtedly with the aid of her lover, Dr. Matthew Conlon. I remember how Mason used to ogle Rachel too—what is so damned attractive about Rachel? Why are men falling for her left and right? Of course, it probably didn’t take much to lure in a pathetic loser like Dr. Conlon.
I approach Rachel, who seems nearly frozen.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
That’s when I see for myself what Rachel is staring at.
Somebody has massacred our cadaver. The arms and legs have literally been shredded. Someone has taken a scalpel and done a truly horrible dissection that is bordering on brutality.
“Oh my God,” I breathe.
My first thought is: Mason.
Mason must have done it. God knows why, but I saw something terrible in his eyes yesterday. And if he’s capable of doing this, what else is he capable of?
I have to tell someone. I have to get Mason help. I have to—
“What happened here?” Dr. Conlon limps over to us. There is a concerned crease between his dark eyebrows.
Rachel whispers in my ear, “Sasha, don’t…”
I don’t know what that means, though.
“Someone destroyed our cadaver!” I speak up. The tears welling up in my eyes are real.
Dr. Conlon’s mouth falls open as he inspects the damage. Rachel is strangely silent. I wonder if she’s told Conlon about the blackmail letter. He seemed a little too cheerful in class this morning to know about it.
But he doesn’t seem cheerful anymore. Dr. Conlon’s face grows very dark.
“I can’t believe a student in my class would do such a sick thing,” he says. He looks up at me. “Do you have any idea who did this?”
I need to confess. I need to tell him all about Mason. That he’s sick and needs help—before it’s too late. I don’t need to admit to my part in it.
But I can’t say it. My jaw feels glued shut. And before I can stop myself, I slowly shake my head no.
Here’s the sad truth:
I want Mason to fail.
Nobody deserves to get through life as easily as he does. Nobody deserves to live in that giant house with two doting parents, to be handsome and brilliant, to get absolutely everything he wants in life. I want Mason to sink deeper and deeper into the hole.
So deep that he can never crawl out.
86
I tryto push the guilt out of my head as I lose myself in studying.
The library is open until midnight, and I intend to stay there until closing time. For some reason, it’s comforting to stare at diagrams of arteries, nerves, and muscles. I try to blank out everything except anatomy.
But it’s hard to focus. I keep thinking about that letter I stuffed into Rachel’s locker. Is Rachel going to get me a copy of the exam? And if she does, will I look at it? I’ve never cheated before. This crosses a line.
And of course, if Rachel doesn’t get me the exam, should I make good on my threat and blow the whistle on their little sex romp? An offense like that is enough to get Dr. Conlon fired and Rachel kicked out of school. I don’t have much sympathy for Rachel, but I’d feel sorry for Dr. Conlon. He’s a really good teacher who cares a lot about his students. I can tell his job means everything to him. It’s not his fault that Rachel is playing him for a grade.
But really, what I can’t stop thinking about is Mason. As I look at the diagrams of the arms and legs, I can’t help but thinkabout what he did to our cadaver. The dopamine capsules are long out of his system, though—the matter is out of my hands. Mason has friends, a roommate, and his family to look out for him. It shouldn’t all fall on my shoulders.
But then sometimes I think back to the way he used to kiss me. The way he’d smile at me. The way we ripped each other’s clothes off like the ship was going down. Mason isn’t just my classmate. At one time, I actually really liked him.
