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Informationen zum Autor Kate previously worked for 17th Street Productions in New York, and has written several young adult novels under a different name. She lives outside of New York City. Klappentext While studying at the elite Atherton-Pryce Hall! Ariana Osgood has concealed her true identity as a prison escapee and murderer! but when her old psychologist and rival resurface! Ariana's new life is threatened. Cruel Love UNFAIR All around Ariana Osgood, the sounds of the emergency room dimmed to a dull hum. The flashing red lights outside the thick-paned window faded in and out. An ancient coffee machine in the corner hissed as it gurgled hot brown liquid into a mug. A few droplets of fresh, red blood splattered the tiles as someone limped by. A child cried. A mother screamed. Someone, somewhere, begged for help. But Ariana was unaware. For her, time had stopped. For her, there was nothing in the world but Reed Brennan. She must die … she must die … she must die … The mantra pounded at the base of her skull like a drumbeat, a call to arms, a battle march. She must die … she must die … she must die … Ariana focused on Reed’s mouth. On her lips. The lying, back-stabbing, love-of-her-life-stealing lips, as they babbled away to a police officer. Spewing more lies, no doubt. Explaining things away. Claiming innocence. Poor, poor Reed. Always, always, always the victim. Steadily, the mantra grew faster. She must die … she must die … she must— There was a slam over by the admittance desk and suddenly the world zipped back into focus. Noise and color and light and pain crashed in on Ariana from all sides. “… don’t know what happened,” Reed was saying. She hugged her scrawny arms around her scrawnier waist. “I thought she had a ride home. I was sure he was driving her home …” A tear slipped from Reed’s eye and she swiped it away. Ariana tilted her head. It was amazing, really, how unchanged the girl was. Same bland, shapeless clothes, except, oddly, her coat appeared to be a bland Kenneth Cole number rather than a bland Old Navy. Same dirt-brown hair. Same off-putting angular features. Same dull brown eyes. She wasn’t as tall as Ariana remembered. Certainly not as strong. In fact, Ariana was quite certain that if she walked over there right now, wrapped her fingers around Reed’s skinny neck and squeezed, she could have her dead within a minute. She must die … she must die … she must die … Ariana’s fingers twitched at her sides. Her mouth began to water. This was it. Her opportunity. The moment she’d been anticipating for three long years. It would have been marvelous if she had been able to execute her original plan and shoved Reed off the roof of Billings House those many moons ago. It would have been dramatic and messy and best of all, done. But this … this would be so much more poetic. She would look Reed in the eyes as she died. Watch the light and the life go out of her. Feel her agony, her desperation, her fear. She would witness the very moment that Reed recognized it was over—that Ariana had won. That she had finally, finally won. She must die … she must die … she must die … “I should really call her roommate. She must be freaking out,” Reed said. She tugged a cell phone out of her pocket and began to turn. In half a second, she would be facing Ariana. Their eyes would meet. Ariana couldn’t breathe. “Ana. I need to talk to you.” Someone grabbed Ariana’s arm. She looked up into the stricken, pale face of her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend, Palmer Liriano. His green eyes were raw and his brown hair mussed, as if he’d run his hands over it and back a thousand...
