Thomas released my arm with a final, forceful shove toward the bottom of the exterior stairs. My heel slipped on the wet stone, and I stumbled, barely catching my balance on the freezing bronze railing.
I stood completely alone in the freezing downpour. I watched the heavy, magnificent bronze doors of the grand hall swing shut behind them, cutting off the warm golden light from inside. The absolute, staggering betrayal fractured something deep within my chest. They weren’t just oblivious; they were actively, joyfully cruel. The rain mixed with the hot tears spilling over my eyelashes, blurring the world into a gray smear.
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Wiping the cold rain from my face with a trembling hand, I turned away from the doors. My spirit felt scraped hollow. Maybe I couldn’t do this. Maybe I should just walk away.
But before I could take a single step down into the flooded street, the relentless pelting of rain on my head suddenly stopped.
A shadow fell over me. I looked up, startled, to find a massive, black umbrella held firmly over my head. Standing beside me was the imposing, aristocratic figure of Dean Jonathan Bradley, the head of the university’s medical board. He was impeccably dressed in his full academic regalia, the purple velvet of his station rich and dry.
He stared down at me, his silver eyebrows drawn together in an expression of absolute, bewildered shock.
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