Prologue
The New Girls We stood in line, anticipation coursing through our veins, as we waited for our turn. We were the new girls, fresh faces ready to be molded into something else entirely. Soon, our names would become irrelevant, replaced by cold numbers. It was a fate most had already accepted, resigned to the reality of our situation. Survive the next three years, and we would be rewarded with enough money to navigate this twisted existence. But I didn't want to be just another number. I wanted to retain my name, my identity. Why should I have to forget who I am and what brought me here? Although, if I resisted, survival would become an even greater challenge. Hollow Hearts Academy, our home for the next three years, loomed before us. Officially known as Watson Academy, the name held no significance within these walls. I had successfully passed the screening process, proving that I possessed something deemed "Watson worthy." However, the possibility of being dismissed still lingered, a constant reminder that not every girl admitted into this elite institution would last the night. We were merely options for the guys. We had all heard the rumors, whispered among the hopefuls. Not every girl who stepped foot inside these walls would make it to the final year. Failure meant forfeiting every penny we had earned, no matter how many times we had sold our souls for it. Our very essence would be stripped away, leaving behind nothing but empty shells. Still, I was supposed to feel lucky for being granted entrance. But there was nothing fortunate about being trapped in this cursed place. The money I would receive was not for my own sake, but for Sofia. Led into a private room, we were meticulously dressed in outfits that accentuated our most prized features. I had contemplated dyeing my hair, wanting to present a different version of myself. Yet, such alterations were strictly prohibited. To become a finalist, authenticity was paramount. I had to be pure and untouched, anything beyond a mere kiss would have prevented me from passing through the electrified gates. There was no room for pretense here. The countless tests and exams I had endured were proof enough that they meant business. Although, I would have gladly subjected myself to another lie detector test rather than relive the physical examination. It had nearly broken me. Once we were dressed, we were ushered into a room for one final test before being escorted onto the stage, where a spotlight awaited us. The announcement of the chosen one would be made immediately. But I had no desire for that position. Being deemed the most "deMasonable" was a punishment in itself within these walls. The numbers were called out one by one, until all the male gazes were fixed upon me. Their eyes were cold, calculating, but somehow, they didn't terrify me as much as the others did. My palms grew sweaty, my heart pounding in my chest. All I had to do was hold it together a little longer, waiting for my number to be called. A fifty would suffice, proving that I was worth keeping around. But it wouldn't necessarily mean I had to surrender my body to maintain that privilege. "Camila Young, zero." Zero. The word echoed in my mind, a damning verdict before I even had a chance to begin. I had failed. I'm sorry, Sofia.
1. Blood and Water (1)
"You really need to stop worrying, Camila. I've got everything under control," my mother reassures me for what feels like the hundredth time. If only I could believe her. "But you're exhausting yourself trying to keep everything afloat. How can you possibly manage Sofia's medical bills too? Just let me help, you don't have to shoulder this burden alone," I plead with her, fully aware that she won't listen. "I am the parent, Camila, and it's my responsibility to take care of my daughters. You focus on your future, and let me handle the present," she says, planting a gentle kiss on my temple before slinging her bag over her shoulder and leaving our home. Each day, the bags under her eyes deepen, her shoulders slump further. If she's not careful, she'll work herself to death. And then where will Sofia and I be? I begin scrubbing the house from top to bottom, starting in the kitchen. Mom hates that I do this, but she doesn't have the time to cook or clean anymore. Well, it's just me now. With Sofia in the hospital, it's only the two of us here, and my mom barely eats enough to function. I worry about her, but I can't make her stop. Not when Sofia's life is at stake. Without money, the Lawrences won't even pretend to care about her. They only see dollar signs, not a name or a face. It doesn't matter that Sofia possesses a radiance that makes the sun envious, or that her laughter could outshine any singer. She's perfect, and she's stuck with me. It would be better for all of us if I were the sick one. I would gladly sacrifice my health and life for her, if only it were that simple. I scrub the surface harder, accidentally jolting the small television on the counter, causing the news to flicker to life. I should turn it off. We can't afford the luxury of watching TV right now. But they're discussing Watson Academy again, and my curiosity triumphs over practicality this time."Mason Watson, do you truly believe that this year will be the one? The year your son will finally find a worthy wife and extricate himself from the academy once and for all?" The reporter's inquiry hangs in the air, as if seeking confirmation from the man concealed in the shadows, granting him an undeserved sense of privacy. "I am not the one to answer that question, my dear. The decision will always reside with my son," Mason Watson responds, his voice laced with a hint of resignation. "I must admit, I had hoped he would have found a suitable match by now. Nevertheless, I wholeheartedly support him as he embarks on this endeavor. His elder brother held out for many years before finding a woman who truly matched his worth... his equal," he adds, his words dripping with deceit. It is quite possible that Mason himself is the reason his son continues to revel in the bachelor lifestyle, unwilling to commit to just one woman when he can have a revolving door of new faces every few years. The reporter presses further, delving into the rumors surrounding girls who attempt to leave the academy without consent. She treads on dangerous ground, and Mason's body language betrays his unease, clearly indicating his displeasure with the direction of her inquiry. "Watson Academy is an esteemed institution," he responds, his tone tinged with defensiveness. "Every woman who completes her tenure here goes on to achieve greatness. They never again long for anything, yet you choose to focus on baseless rumors, undoubtedly spread by my competitors, rather than acknowledging the opportunities I provide these young women. Most of them come from nothing, and I offer them everything," he leans forward, interlocking his fingers beneath his chin, causing the reporter to instinctively recoil. I cannot help but wonder what she sees within his eyes, the windows to his true intentions. "No disappearances have ever been reported, and any girl who leaves before her required duration does so of her own accord. Once they step outside the sanctuary of Watson's, I cannot control what may befall them. My only hope is that this world nurtures the brilliance we witnessed within them, rather than snuffing it out."The interview abruptly cuts off, replaced by the faces of two reporters who make no attempt to conceal their disdain for the ruler of the world. Their true opinions are etched across their expressions, as they stumble through their script, reading from a screen with darting eyes and fidgeting unease. Despite their lack of belief in their own words, they continue to utter them. Watson truly reigns over us all, his wealth surpassing imagination, and even the president remains powerless against him. I wish I could say that turning off the screen and returning to my task banished thoughts of the Watson Academy from my mind, but truth is an unwavering companion. Besides, perusing their website for research purposes couldn't possibly hurt. Though the idea of applying to such a place would never cross my mind. Donning my worn-out jacket feels pointless, as it offers no protection against the biting chill in the air. Yet, can the atmosphere truly be colder than the icy grip squeezing my heart? I must find a way to help Sofia. I refuse to let her languish in a hospital that fails to provide any answers for her deteriorating health. My mother will work herself into an early grave, and I fear her resting place will be unmarked, for we cannot afford a gravestone. We will have nothing to mourn, only memories of a mother who loved us beyond measure, a love that was crushed the moment exhaustion overwhelmed her. As I walk along the road, fixating on the cracks that fracture the pavement, it becomes glaringly apparent that we were born into a fractured world. Why do the rich continue to amass more wealth, while the rest of us are left destitute and broken?
1. Blood and Water (2)
As I stroll past, I sense the weight of people's gaze upon me. Annoyed, I swiftly pull up my hood and zip my jacket higher. It's not unfamiliar to be the subject of stares, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it. The idea of dying my hair has crossed my mind, but my mom always manages to dissuade me. Apparently, having white locks, alabaster skin, and pale blue eyes should be seen as a blessing. Easy for her to say. She doesn't face the constant reminder of mortality each day, nor does she bear the burden of being five feet tall with a petite frame that's far from healthy, and a chest that brings me nothing but back pain. I'm not even particularly large, but apparently, I've been bestowed with an ample bosom, which is why I prefer to hide beneath baggy hoodies, hoping they'll divert even more attention away from me. On the other hand, my mother was destined to be a dancer. Her legs seem to stretch on forever, lithe and sculpted, radiating beauty. Even her perpetual weariness can't tarnish that fact. My sister takes after her completely, and while I may feel a twinge of envy, I'd never admit it aloud. Confrontation is not my forte; if I could blend into the shadows, I would. Being noticed is a nightmare. Yet, here I am, making my way to the nearest library so I can borrow a computer and delve deeper into this Watson Academy. I know I can't apply; it would send my mother into a frenzy, and they would never choose someone like me anyway. I don't hail from noble bloodlines, and I'm deemed worthless, except in the eyes of those who love me. Sofia, on the other hand, would surely be accepted and might even secure a top spot. She'd find herself a husband and rescue our mother from a life of backbreaking labor that's slowly draining the life out of her. Shaking off these thoughts, I lift my gaze. The library looms ahead, and it wouldn't hurt to peruse the academy's website. Perhaps it would provide my mom and me with another reason to mock the affluent.I cautiously step inside the building, my gaze fixed on the floor, only glancing up occasionally to navigate through the vast space. My mother knows someone who works here, and I can't afford for her to find out what I'm up to and report back. It's all just research, after all. Taking a seat at one of the tables, lined with computers, I enter my login details and anxiously wait for the system to come to life. Watching the clock tick by feels excruciating, and a slight twitch develops in my left eye. Finally, with a deep sigh, the web browser loads and I type in the address for the Watson Academy. I half expect a glaring message to flash across the screen, proclaiming that I don't belong here. But nothing of the sort happens. Instead, I see a picture of the grand estate where the unfortunate girls will reside for three years. It may be immense, but I highly doubt the luxury is meant for their enjoyment. Everything is for the men's pleasure, even the women are merely toys to them. The website offers a few attachments and a button that my cursor hovers over—the dreaded "apply here" button. But I reassure myself that I'm not here for that. I just want to read the guidelines and rules for potential applicants. Blame it on the news, they sparked my curiosity. No wonder my mom avoids watching it now. I take a deep breath and click on the rules and regulations section. I tell myself there won't be anything that would make me want to hit that apply button. I'm safe, or so I think. The page opens with a bold statement: "So, you wish to spend the next three years within the walls of the Watson Academy." It continues, urging me to consider my reasons for wanting to join their esteemed institution. But it's cryptic, withholding information in the name of privacy. They promise that if I'm chosen to be considered, I'll be invited to a face-to-face appointment where they'll assess me further and disclose the full extent of the commitment required. As I read those words, a mix of excitement and apprehension fills my chest. The allure of this mysterious academy beckons, but I can't help but wonder what it truly entails.If you agree to our terms in their entirety, you will undergo a series of tests to determine your suitability for this extraordinary opportunity. Your name may or may not be chosen for the final round of selection. Should you be fortunate enough to join our esteemed Watson family, prepare to indulge in opulent feasts fit for royalty. Lavish rooms will be assigned to you, so exquisite that you will feel no need to venture beyond their luxurious confines. And fear not, for a monthly payment of one thousand dollars shall be bestowed upon your loved ones, a small measure to compensate for any loss your absence may cause within the household. As for yourself, we will assign you a number, a symbol of your rank within our esteemed walls. This number shall dictate your annual earnings and the bonus you shall receive upon your graduation day. Our alumni have gone on to lead lives they never dreamt possible, with abundant job opportunities and the skills to forge their own paths in the world. Poverty shall never befall you, for it is a promise we, the Watsons, guarantee. But can I truly apply? It seems preposterous, almost insane. Yet, if I am to be honest, the allure is undeniable. Perhaps I should at least peruse the application form, just to satisfy my curiosity. What harm could it do? The form loads, and I find myself taken aback. The questions it poses are audacious, intrusive. Does it truly matter if I am a virgin or how many kisses I have shared? What does this place expect from the chosen girls who enter its hallowed halls? I must dismiss these thoughts, erase them from my mind. I should go home, forget about this folly. Filling out the form and submitting it would be sheer madness, a decision I might regret for the rest of my days. * * * Two weeks have passed, though it feels like an eternity. I should visit Sofia, see how she is faring. But the sight of her, connected to tubes and wires, is too much to bear. I must find a way to help my sister, to ease the burden of her medical fees. Perhaps I can secure a job somewhere, quietly contribute without burdening our proud and stubborn mother.
1. Blood and Water (3)
"Camila, could you spare a moment?" Why does her voice sound so strained? Well, she's tired and worried, I suppose. If she didn't sound strained, I'd be even more concerned. My head is throbbing, I need some painkillers. Hopefully, Mom will have something for me. Breathing heavily, I jog down the stairs. I really should exercise more. But then again, why waste the energy? I barely eat enough to justify it. "Hey, Mom," I greet her, planting a kiss on her cheek before sinking into one of the dining chairs. "Camila, you foolish girl," she turns to face me, her eyes red and her hands firmly on her hips. In one hand, she clutches a large envelope. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think? I may not be as book smart as Sofia, but I wouldn't call myself stupid," I say, my voice trembling as tears threaten to spill. I refuse to let them fall. Mom is the only one who believes in me, hearing her call me stupid is gut-wrenching. "You applied to be a Watson girl. There's no intelligence in a decision like that," she spits, venom dripping from her words. My vision blurs slightly. "You're opening my mail now? What gives you the right?" I demand, unable to believe I'm raising my voice at my own mother. I'm definitely going to hell for this. "I didn't need to open it, their crest is right there on the damn envelope," she shouts, slamming her palm on the table and leaving the envelope in her wake. "It doesn't mean they've accepted me," I weakly protest, even to my own ears. "A rejection letter would be smaller, congratulations Camila, you get to sell yourself to fifteen guys. Your sister would be so proud." I think I'd prefer if she slapped me or something. Her words hurt more than any physical blow ever could. She doesn't even bother staying to hear my explanation. She'd rather be at work than listen to me. "Mom, please don't be like this."I had done it, all for a good reason. The money I could potentially earn from this opportunity could really help Sofia. But as I looked into her eyes, the storm brewing within them was darker than any thunderstorm I had ever witnessed. "Don't use your sister to justify the choice you've made," she said, her voice laced with disappointment. "You think you're taking the easy way out, but you're wrong. If you get chosen, your whole life will change. I can't even bear to look at you right now." With tears streaming down her face, she hastily wiped them away, pulled on her coat, and left our home. All I could do was stand there, staring at the envelope in my hand, wondering why they would call me in for the next stage. I carefully slipped the envelope into the side cabinet before putting on my jacket. Leaving behind the only place where I had ever felt accepted, there was someone I needed to see. Despite avoiding her, I couldn't delay it any longer. Not when I might be gone for the next three years. I still couldn't fathom making it to the final stage of selection, but I couldn't take that risk. * * * Arriving at the hospital, I wrapped my coat even tighter around myself. People's stares made me feel as though I had thousands of bugs crawling all over my skin. But deep down, I knew it wasn't the bugs that bothered me; it was their judgmental eyes. I hated how they made me feel. Maybe Sofia was right. If I couldn't handle the scrutiny here, how would I survive inside the Academy? "Miss Young, how wonderful to see you again," Lawrence Coleman greeted me warmly, approaching me with open arms. He was my sister's physician, and my crush on him resurfaced every time we met. I really needed to stop daydreaming about him. "It has been a while, I know. I feel like such an awful sister," I admitted, unable to hide the grimace of shame that washed over me, causing my cheeks to flush. "Don't say that about yourself," Lawrence said, his voice filled with understanding. "It can't be easy for you to see your sister in this state. Who can blame you for staying away? I wish I could tell you things were improving, but I won't lie to you." He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and once again, I couldn't help but notice just how young he was.He's the only Lawrence who doesn't give a damn about his patients' wealth. The only one who genuinely cares about my sister's well-being. It breaks my heart to see the others neglecting her. And now, I can't help but think that he's falling in love with her, just like everyone else always does. It's a shitty thought to have about Sofia. It's not her fault. She's always tried to make me see myself the way she does, or did. "It's okay. I'm working on making things better for her," I say, fighting back the tears. "I just might not be around for a little while, but I couldn't leave without seeing her first." "Well, if you're still here when I go on break, come join me for a coffee," he says, flashing me a warm smile before heading off to his next patient. He's such a nice guy. With his warm brown hair, green eyes, and broad shoulders, he drives me crazy. It would be fine if he was like everyone else, but he's not. He genuinely cares about people, wants to help others, and make the world a better place. Why does he have to be so perfect? Walking into Sofia's room is surreal. She's sitting up, looking out of the hospital window. But it's not a positive sign for her. "Hey sis, I see Lawrence cutie is on today," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "I bet he's eager for you to finally talk to him. You always made guys work for your attention." I force a laugh as I circle around and kneel in front of her chair. Her eyes briefly flicker to me before returning to the window. I understand. I really do. "I feel you, big sis. You just want your freedom. Just come back to us, and you can be free. I really need you, Sofia. I'm struggling to hold it all in. I can barely keep mom from working herself to death. She needs you, I need you. I've done something so stupid, and the worst part is, I know I can still back out, but I won't. Not if it's the thing that will bring you back to us. I love you, Sofia. You'll get to live your dreams soon enough. But no more Lawrence cutie. Give the rest of us a chance, okay?" My laughter is as watery as my eyes as I kiss her on the forehead before standing up.
1. Blood and Water (4)
With brush in hand, I gently comb through her lush curls, marveling at their contrast to my own waves. The simple act of caring for these small details fills me with warmth, knowing that someone has taken the time to do so for both of us. It's likely my mom struggles to come every day, which means it must be Coleman who has been tending to us. Perhaps one day, I'll find a man like him for myself—a thought that allows me to dream. Time slips by unnoticed, and I realize I should leave. I've probably missed his break by now, so hopefully, I won't run into him on my way out. "See you soon, beautiful," I blow a kiss to her and unintentionally collide with a solid, warm figure. My breath catches in my throat as I raise my gaze, climbing miles upward until our eyes meet. Dr. Coleman is graced with the most genuine smile I've ever witnessed, outside of my small, close-knit family. "Fancy seeing you here," his voice is akin to a sip of warm whiskey—a notion I've heard but never experienced. "Sorry, I just ran right into you," I nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, hoping he hasn't noticed that it's a telltale sign of my unease. "There are far worse things to be run over by," his smile widens, and though I know he isn't flirting, it feels as though he is. I can't help but feel utterly hopeless.As fate would have it, it seems I have found myself in the company of a charming companion during my break. He extends his arm towards me, and I find myself unable to resist the temptation to intertwine my fingers with his. Perhaps I lean on him a bit more heavily than he anticipated, but he is a true gentleman and doesn't seem to mind. He leads me to the cafeteria, where he gracefully procures sandwiches and steaming cups of coffee. I admit, I am not much of a coffee drinker, but on occasion, I indulge. "So, Camila, what's new in your world?" His intense gaze makes me feel vulnerable, as if he can see right through me. But there is no uneasiness when his eyes are on me. "Actually, I may be considering college," I respond, careful not to stray too far from the truth, yet uneasy about deceiving him. "That's fantastic! I am immensely proud of you, Camila. And I'm certain your sister feels the same way. You will achieve great things, I just know it." "I'll do alright, I suppose. Sofia is the one with all the brains. I'm just... me," I confess, mentally scolding myself for the nervous habit of tucking my hair behind my ear. Soon enough, he will decipher its meaning. "You must give yourself more credit, Camila. You are truly remarkable. You possess a wit and kindness that is unmatched, and I have never witnessed you raise your voice, even when it is warranted. I wish I could maintain such positivity," his voice exudes warmth, causing a tumult of emotions within me. "Oh please, don't be fooled. I don't think I've ever seen you without a smile adorning your face," I retort playfully, unable to suppress a giggle. In response, he joins in with a laugh that resonates as the most alluring sound I have ever encountered.I can't help but wonder if all eighteen-year-olds share my tendency to imagine flirtation where none exists. It's a harmless daydream, as long as I remind myself to stay grounded. After all, chances are I'll only see him one more time after today, assuming I get into the Academy. "Maybe I'm smiling because I'm in your presence. Did you ever consider that?" I retort, scoffing as I take a deep sip of my coffee. His attempts at flattery are unnecessary. "Will you stop teasing? You wouldn't smile just for me," I shake my head, dismissing his words. But before he can respond, his beeper interrupts us, and for the first time, I see him without a smile. Frown lines form around his eyes as he scowls down at the small device. "I'm sorry, I've got to go," he sighs, and all I can do is offer a smile in return as we both rise from our seats and walk out of the bustling cafeteria together. "Well, I hope I have the chance to see you again before you head off to college," he says, grasping my hand between his own and gently caressing the top of it with his thumb. A tingling sensation shoots up my arm, leaving me breathless. "I'll t-try," I stammer, my cheeks burning as he releases my hand. I can't tear my eyes away as he walks away, and when he catches me staring, I'm caught red-handed. Instead of feeling embarrassed, he simply winks at me, chuckling softly before disappearing around a corner, leaving me standing there, captivated.
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