CUT HERE (The Cut Series Book 1) Read online

  CUT HERE

  a novel

  by

  Azzurra Nox

  Kindle Edition

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitously.

  CUT HERE. Copyright © 2015 by Azzurra Nox. All rights reserved.

  facebook.com/cutherebook

  Death by Prose - Azzurra Nox

  Cover Art by Creative Paramita

  creativeparamita.com

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  For Carmela Pennisi, the brightest star to light my sky. I miss you.

  An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break.

  Chinese Proverb

  Part One

  Los Angeles, California 2010

  Chapter One

  The suicides began shortly after Lena arrived at St. Lucy Academy. In the first weeks, the very notion of St. Lucy students committing such a disturbing act sounded absurd, literally unbelievable. The tony campus was the standard of immaculately-sculpted perfection. Or at least it appeared to be, from what Lena could see as her dad’s car crept through the cast-iron West Entrance gates.

  It was an early January morning. Appropriately, the weather forecast for that day was a blanket of annoyed indifference, with only a slight possibility of ambivalent acceptance before the end of the day. Lena did her best to adapt, not even turning to gaze at the beautiful Gothic architecture or the lush gardens that surrounded them, a mini-Versailles adrift in monied Los Angeles. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of wonder or curiosity. It would only give her dad false hope that she might not one day resent his decision to relocate her to Los Angeles, uprooting her from her life in Italy.

  First day of school in a new city. That would be overwhelming for some, but not for Lena. It had become routine. In her sixteen years of life, she had changed countries and schools more times than she cared to remember.

  “I’ll pick you up after school. Be in front of the gate by three sharp,” Dale Martin stated as Lena got out of the car. His crystal blue eyes glowered in concern.

  “Too bad, guess I’ll flirt with the jocks another day,” pulling a black messenger bag off the floor that was decorated with more than a dozen pins of bands he could never keep track of.

  “Hey, everything’s going to be okay,” he assured her with a slight smile. But even he knew that was a lie. Lena didn’t smile back.

  “Dream on,” she said and slammed the door before he could respond. She wasn’t keen on starting in a new country, in a new school, in the middle of the year.

  Only a week ago she was still living in Italy, attending a private institute for girls with troubled minds where she spent most of her time alone. Creating bonds wasn’t easy for Lena. Most people bored her, and she didn’t trust the majority. But she craved a friendship where no secret was off-limits, despite her terror of being vulnerable. Why would she openly admit her Achilles heel? That was only an invitation for disaster.

  She looked at the building that stood before her. It was tall with a bell tower on the right side and a small chapel on the left. St. Lucy Academy, the letters loomed over the school’s entrance. Everything in Los Angeles looked modern and fresh, yet this structure had the semblance of a Gothic cathedral with its intricate flying buttress, pointed arch and ribbed vault. It was almost misplaced in such a city where anything past a certain age was automatically demolished as they made room for the new. Sometimes buildings tell the history of a city, but what sort of history delved in the heart of Los Angeles when everything was always renewed, rebuilt, and destroyed? It was a city that didn’t look back into the past, but rather forwards, as if to state, “You don’t need to look behind you, the only road you’ve got is the one ahead.” And that’s exactly what she was doing as she peered at the tiled entrance of the school.

  Everyone was dressed the same. Girls in short but not quite revealing grey tartan skirts, white button down shirts, black blazers, and white knee high socks. The boys were dressed in black slacks, white shirts, and black suit jackets. Lena’s attire mirrored that of the other girls in the courtyard that morning except for one minor detail. She was wearing black Doc Martens rather than the black Mary Jane shoes or ballet flats she noticed the other girls wearing. She shrugged. The manual had clearly stated black shoes.

  Her blonde hair appeared almost white against the black blazer. A large black satin bow adorned the left side of her head. It would’ve looked horrible on any other girl, but on Lena it was almost stylish. Almost being the key word. It often looked cartoon-like.

  She walked towards the lobby with a feeling of trepidation like having a strange creature slither between her toes. She tried to ignore it, as she pulled the door open and entered the school. Looking down at the piece of paper she held in her hand, she remembered she needed to pass by the front office. All eyes were on her as she walked down the hall. Some stares curious, others filled with contempt. They watched her like a lion looks at a gazelle, thinking, “Fresh meat.” She was certain they questioned her pale skin and strange appearance, compared to their sun kissed complexions and impeccable styled hair. The school didn’t have a large student body for a new arrival to go unnoticed. The more they stared, the more she hugged her messenger bag closer to her chest, using it as an invisible barrier between her and the prying eyes.

  “Nice hair ornament,” a brunette snickered as she walked past her. She was standing with a group of girls who giggled at the comment. “Where you’d get that rag from? The donation box?” Her poise revealed her dominance in the group. The alpha female. With her model looks there was no denying her status.

  “So what happened to you? Did your makeup case explode on your face,” she shot back before continuing on her walk. She knew she should’ve ignored it, and kept on her way, but it was difficult for her to back down when provoked.

  “Kitty’s got claws,” one of the girls laughed, “Meow!”

  “She better cool that poison tongue unless she wants to be a dead cat,” the beautiful brunette replied.

  Way to make friends, she thought. She hadn’t even been in the school five minutes and she had already made enemies. Hurrying her pace, she left without garnering a response, annoyed by her first contact gone awry. She touched the black bow settled on the side of her head. It was her signature look. Ever since her mother had passed away, she had adopted the bow as a sign of mourning. Just like wearing her mother’s silver rosary as a necklace. It was just another way not to forget, although it was considerably stupid to think that forgetting was even possible.

  Clearing her head of sad thoughts, she walked in the front office. The secretary chatted on the phone, while a few students were busy typing or making photocopies.

  “Hi, I’m new here. I was told to pick up my schedule and locker number?”

  “Oh yes!” a redhead with luscious curls said a little too enthusiastically. She often wondered how some people could be so cheery in the mornings. Waking up anytime before nine was traumatic for Lena who was more of a night owl. “You’re Lena Martin, right?”

  She nodded, peering at the girl like a rare specimen for h
aving such a friendly approach to her after her disastrous entrance only a few seconds ago in the hall.

  “Fantastic! I’m Amelia Stevens, I’m going to show you around the campus and then direct you to your first class if you’d like?”

  “Brilliant that would be ace,” she managed a smile.

  “Ace?” she said with a slight laugh, “That’s cute. That sounds so…”

  “European,” she finished her phrase. “I just moved from Italy.”

  “Really? How exciting! You’ll have to tell me more,” she walked around the desk, “Hey, Melissa!” she shouted over to a short haired girl in the corner, mobile phone in her hand, eyes locked on the small screen. “I’m going to take Lena around the school. Fill in for me will you?”

  “Alright,” the girl replied, although not budging from her corner where she was intent on texting.

  Soon, Lena and Amelia were back in the crowded corridor. Lena prayed she wouldn’t see again the girl she had insulted only moments before. Luckily, she didn’t. Students hurried, attempting not to run. The bell rang soon after. Everyone quickly dispersed in a matter of seconds, like a bomb obliterating a crowded market.

  “Don’t you have a class?”

  “Me? Oh no. I work at the office for first period. It fills in as an elective. I like it ‘cause it’s one less exam to worry about when finals roll around,” Amelia spoke freely, “Wicked boots,” she added noticing Lena’s feet.

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s that?” she asked indicating to a book that was hanging out from one of the pockets on her messenger bag.

  “A book.”

  “I know, I meant, what book?”

  “Cut Here,” she pulled it out of the pocket, showing the cover of the novel with its title bleeding in red from a slit on a faceless person’s neck.

  “It looks scary.”

  “It is.”

  “I hate scary books,” she said with a slight shudder.

  Lena was tempted to say, “I love them,” but caught herself in time, too afraid that she’d come across as creepy. That was the last impression she wanted to make on someone who had been friendly to her so far. She promptly put the book away, “They’re not for everyone.”

  Amelia gave her the grand tour of the school, showing her where the library was and the bathrooms, and the quickest route to the chapel. From the outside, the school appeared smaller than it was, but once inside, it was rather spacious.

  “There’s no elevators?” she asked when she noticed the amount of stairs they kept walking to reach the various floors.

  “Are you kidding? No! It’s how we keep fit here.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “At nine, we must all go to the chapel for morning mass, unfortunately, no one, and I emphasize, no one dares to miss mass because having to see Sister Mary is a far harsher punishment than having to listen to Father Bob’s long winded sermons,” she stated in a dramatic note.

  “Who’s Sister Mary?”

  “She’s the mother superior, and although Father Bob is our principal, more people are afraid of her than they are of him.”

  The lunch room was their next stop. It had the typical chairs and round tables found in other lunchrooms, only difference being that the plates and cups were glass instead of plastic. This is what her dad was paying for. Being able to drink coke in a real glass rather than a Dixie cup.

  “I thought the purging diet was a fad here.”

  “Are you British?”

  “Is the accent that noticeable?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m really not. But I’ve always studied in private English institutes around Europe.”

  “So why did you move?”

  The question caught her off guard, and her cheeks quickly flushed. She couldn’t tell Amelia that her father had suggested a move as a way to start over in a city where no one knew she had spent time at a ward. Instead she offered a partial truth, “My dad’s a historian. He got a grant with UCLA for a research.” Amelia just nodded at the information. The two continued to walk until they reached her locker.

  “Number twenty-three forty-five is your locker. Welcome to the madhouse, inmate.”

  Lena tensed at the joke. “Nice. I don’t have any books yet so we’re done here.”

  “Right, let me take you to your first class,” grabbing the schedule from Lena’s hand. “Ew, it looks like you have Sister Agnes for Algebra. I don’t envy you. She’s so paranoid she won’t let us use protractors. She thinks someone will go postal and ensue a stabbing spree,” rolling her eyes.

  “Great, paranoid nuns, the worst kind,” she followed Amelia down the hall and cut a corner till they reached her first class.

  “Here’s the classroom. Don’t forget to head straight to mass after Algebra. Oh, and don’t be shy, come sit at my table for lunch.”

  “All right, cool. I’ll do that. Thanks again.”

  She could hear the voice of a woman explain what sounded to be a complicated algebraic formula. Suddenly, she was filled with an unexpected anxiety. With a nervous smile and a wave goodbye, she watched as Amelia disappeared around the corner. Then she quickly ducked into the girl’s restroom situated right next door to the classroom. With shaking hands she dug through her messenger bag in search for a tiny container.

  Cold sweat trickled down her forehead, as she grabbed the plastic bottle and pried its lid open with her teeth. Pink pills scattered like broken glass across the bathroom counter, falling in the sink. “Blast!” she murmured, anxiously grabbing a handful of pills, shoving them back into the bottle, while she popped two in her mouth. Turning on the faucet, she drank the cold water from her cupped hands.

  She splashed water on her face, trying to control her breathing. Eyes closed, she counted to ten. When she reopened them, she took a startled step back from the counter, spotting a figure in the mirror. She quickly turned around and saw one of the blonde girls from earlier that morning standing in a corner, face facing the wall like a scolded schoolgirl. There was something eerie in the way she stood. A soft series of murmurs danced from her lips like teetering ballerinas. Her voice had a sing-song melody, like she was reciting a childhood lullaby.

  “Bye-byeee quickly die. Bye-byeee quickly die.”

  Terrified, she scrambled towards the exit, and pushed the door open falling into the hallway. Something undeniably strange had just happened. Lena took a deep breath to compose herself before entering the classroom. A leap of faith is all it took.

  Chapter Two

  Sister Agnes scribbled on the white board as she explained how to solve for x. Jon was half paying attention. His notes were cluttered with doodles of skulls and crosses on the borders of his notebook and random song lyrics in the midst of formulas. It was another idle Monday morning, and he had forgotten to finish his homework the night before, although to be honest he hadn’t forgotten. He simply refused to complete the assignment after question fifteen out of thirty. His eyes were half closed when the classroom door open.

  “Good morning, welcome to St. Lucy Academy,” he heard Sister Agnes say, then turning to the class, “Lena Martin has just moved from Italy, let’s try to make her feel welcome.”

  Jon didn’t even bother to lift his head from his desk despite everyone’s interest in the new arrival. He opened his eyes only when he heard a soft voice ask, “Can I look off your book until I get my own?”

  Rubbing his eyes, “Sure, no problem.” He lifted his head and turned to face her and was stunned. He dropped his pencil, and his heart as he studied her.

  The girl had delicate features, like a muse from a Botticelli painting. Her kohl rimmed brown eyes held a hypnotic gaze. His eyes wandered down to her lips that held no pretense of faux color. They were a pale petal pink. Your lips would make a lollipop too happy. He couldn’t remember where he last heard that phrase, but it fit her. Stop it, he scolded himself.

  “Here,” pushing the book over to her. She had taken the seat next to him.


  “Do you know how to do any of this?” she quickly scribbled down the numbers that Sister Agnes had on the board.

  “Some.”

  “You weren’t paying attention?”

  “Not really.”

  “Wonderful. I’m shit with numbers,” pouting as she erased her outcome for x. “And it hurts my brain to think at this hour.”

  He tried to stifle a laugh. “It’s not that hard,” flipping through his notes from a previous class, “Here, copy these, they’ll help you.”

  She smiled, “Thanks,” leaning closer to read the notes he provided.

  He closed his eyes a moment, inhaling her sweet scent that hinted of candyfloss. Jon couldn’t explain what was happening to him. He usually didn’t feel this way towards a girl. He was more used to them fawning over him. Even with his current girlfriend he was careless. He never felt particularly attached to anyone. Not anymore. Not since he lost his brother Rob. As soon as that name entered his brain, he tried to cast it away. He didn’t want to think about him. Not now. He was tormented enough at night.

  Getting through nights was difficult. He’d often stay up late till he passed out from exhaustion or took pills that promised sleep. This erratic sleeping schedule left him dazed and nurtured his apathetic attitude towards everything.

  “By the way, what’s your name?”

  Focusing his attention back to her, “Jon.”

  “I’m Lena.”

  “That’s such a pretty name,” he found himself saying, and quickly shut his mouth. “I mean, that’s cool. How you like the school so far?”

  “I don’t know…I don’t think I made a good impression. I kind of insulted a girl within the first five minutes.”

  “Nice.”

  Sister Agnes looked at them with an annoyed expression that seemed to reprove, “Knock it off,” and so he stopped talking, allowing Lena to catch up on the note taking and pay attention to the lesson. When they were granted permission to work in pairs she spoke again.