written in blood

expelled

Chapter 2 Lydia

I woke up with a headache big enough to qualify as a natural disaster. For a solid five minutes I debated skipping class again. But then I remembered: I’d already skipped so many that my professors probably thought I’d died and forgotten to send an email.

Dragging myself out of bed, my fingers brushed the pendant still cold against my skin. The crescent moon gleamed faintly in the dawn light. I couldn’t explain it, but wearing it felt…different. Heavy, like it was dragging me into something I didn’t sign up for.

Still, if I was going to be cursed, I could at least look cute. I dug through my closet and settled on a red knee-length dress with a white belt. Perfect balance of “college student” and “trying not to look like a raccoon who dumpster-dived last night.”

Yes, I admired myself in the mirror. Yes, I thought, awesome taste.

And yes, my brain immediately dragged up the memory of the neon green Halloween jumpsuit.

“That was one time!” I yelled at my empty room, then palmed my face.

Bathroom trip was basically cardio — thanks to the genius architect who decided it needed to be five miles from my bed. By the time I was ready, the bus was nowhere in sight. I waited, grumbling like a middle-schooler who missed recess, then bolted outside the second I heard the engine growl to life.

“Wait—! You left me!” I yelled, sprinting. Miraculously, I caught it, stumbling onto the bus, panting. Every pair of eyes turned to me like I was a zoo exhibit.

By the time we screeched to campus, lecture was already in session. Kat waved from the back row, all sunshine and fake innocence. I power-walked toward her, tripped over nothing, and face-planted into the cold tile.

Laughter erupted like it was comedy night. Phones out. Great. I was about to go viral for being clumsy instead of hot.

Kat’s lips twitched, but she bit them shut. Bless her.

The lecture dragged, and I barely heard a word because Kat kept shoving her phone at me with cat edits and memes. Cute, yes. But also — read the room, Kat.

Professor Mitini froze mid-sentence, glancing at his phone. His brow furrowed like someone had sent him a cursed chain message. Then he looked up. Directly at me.

“Lydia, you’re wanted at the dean’s office.”

The words iced my spine. “What? Why?”

He didn’t bother answering. Just went back to teaching like he hadn’t just thrown me to the wolves.

The dean’s office was down the hall. Each step felt like walking deeper into a grave.

“You called for me?” I asked, voice small.

“Yes. Sit, Miss Harvey.” He stretched out my name like gum stuck to his shoe. Never a good sign.

I perched on the chair, feet dangling. My chest was tight, but my brain tried to cope the only way it knew how: maybe it’s just Thanksgiving planning. Last year’s ended in exploding turkey and broken pipes. Wouldn’t put it past this place to traumatize us again.

The dean sighed. “You won’t be happy to hear this.”

My heart sank.

“Your scholarship has been withdrawn. Effective immediately.”

Cold slammed into my veins. My lungs refused to work. “W-what? How? Why?”

“Your grades have dropped fifty percent or more. The agreement was that they improve, not collapse. And…” His frown deepened. “Your sponsor has been made aware of your absences. He was…less than pleased.”

He pushed a glass of water toward me. My hands shook as I drained it.

The rest blurred. Something about investments not needing to be repaid. Something about “disappointed” and “choices.” All I heard was gone. My scholarship. My future. My safety nets.

I stumbled out of the office, head down, ignoring the mirrors lining the hall. Couldn’t look myself in the eye.

Packing was fast — clothes, notebooks, and the pendant, glinting like it was mocking me. I whispered to the room, “Goodbye. Thanks for being my best friend.” Yes, pathetic. But it was the place I cried when I missed my parents. The place I studied until my eyes blurred. It mattered.

Dragging my suitcase down the stairs felt like dragging my life behind me.

The city swallowed me. Homeless, broke,

clutching fifty cents and a crumpled dollar. The hotel wouldn’t give me a room. The zoo definitely wouldn’t. New York’s streets didn’t care.

I ended up on a park bench as night fell. The moon hung above, pale, and steady. I let out a bitter laugh. “At least the moon won’t leave me.”

The quiet was too loud. Not a single passerby, not even a dog walker. My phone blinked its death warning. Then—

A howl.

Long. Low. Not human. My chest tightened.

I stood quickly, suitcase in hand, but before I could move, something sharp wrapped around me. Yanking. Dragging.

“Ah! Who’s there?!”

My body slammed into rough bark. The stench of moss and damp earth filled my nose. A hand pinned me flat against the tree. Hot breath brushed my neck. Strong. Male. My heart thundered.

Then—metal snapped.

He tore the pendant from my throat. My lungs seized. That thing had weight, had meaning — even if I didn’t understand it yet. He didn’t care.

He spun me to face him.

And wow. Gorgeous in the most dangerous way. Grey eyes like storm clouds ready to swallow me whole. I opened my mouth to curse him, but my vision swam.

Something bitter pressed to my lips. I coughed, gagged. “Who… are you?”

His mouth moved. Words I couldn’t process. A name? A warning?

The last thing I felt before collapsing was the dirt against my cheek. And the certainty that my life was no longer mine.