Wrecked: Georgetown Academy, #1

By Vivian Kohlman

I was restarting my life after a devastating tragedy. I was leaving my home town, New York City, behind and starting my life fresh. A new school, new friends, and a chance to finish my last year of high school like a normal girl. 

 

But what's normal when you're joining a new private school with new classmates in your senior year? Two sets of gorgeous twins rule the school and one of them grabs my attention. But only a gluten for punishment would start to fall for the school's bully, right?

 

Luckily, I made a couple of good friends – and an enemy – along the way. In the end I found that I was too naïve about my new school. In New York I could tell when someone was scamming me. In Washington DC, I never saw it coming.

 

This story ends with a cliffhanger, and is for mature audiences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vivian Kohlman
• Release date: Jun 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223851172

Book preview

Chapter 1

S o now that you’re settled, what do you want to do this weekend? my aunt Karla asked.

I stirred my hot cocoa slowly, blending in the whipped cream. She patiently waited for my response.

I dunno. Nothing, I guess, I said.

Nothing at all?

I just want to take it easy before Monday, you know? New school and all. Next week’s bound to take a lot out of me.

Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. I’m here for you, Morgan, she said, putting her hand on mine. Whatever you need. Shopping, a girls’ day out, brunch on the water...anything you want. I’m here.

I smiled at the familiar memories she triggered. My mom and I used to come down to Washington, DC to stay with Aunt Karla often. Going to museums, having brunch in some posh restaurant, and shopping were the core activities during those visits.

Because of those trips, I already knew my new city pretty well and I was close with my aunt Karla and uncle Greg. So I was comfortable not pretending to be happy, like I had to be around other people. My mother and aunt were identical twins and best friends, so my aunt and my uncle were around a lot while I grew up. They understood my pensive mood and gave me space.

Thanks, Aunt K. I’ll be OK. I’m just...well, getting used to the change, I guess.

I didn’t want her to worry. And she would worry if she knew I just wanted to sulk this weekend. It’s the weekend before my senior year. It should’ve been a happy time in life, starting my last year of high school with all of my friends.

But my situation wasn’t happy, to no fault of my own. I was starting my senior year in a new city and at a new school where I knew no one. What’s worse was that the people in DC knew of me, but I had no friends here. So I needed time to prepare for the onslaught of questions and gossip – I needed this weekend to build up my energy for that.

What was my situation, you ask? I usually avoided talking about it, though most people were annoyingly interested in me and my family’s recent events. But I didn’t know much more than most people did, thanks to media outlets that exposed the intimate details of my life’s worst happenings.

My parents were beautiful, successful, and popular, living the New York upper east side life like nobody’s business. I had known all of my best friends since birth, or just about, and our parents were all friends, business partners, or close acquaintances.

My friends and I attended the best schools, as well as the premier events around town. We dined out regularly, shopped when and where we wanted, and were happy, normal kids. And we loved each other, or so I thought.

Life was fantastic. Until, that is, my mother found herself accidentally pregnant. A hockey puck (aka, sperm) got through my dad’s goalie (aka, the vasectomy he had after I was born). He later learned, after all those years, that the vasectomy wasn’t fully successful. They decided to keep the baby, which forced my mom off of her medications.

Until her pregnancy I had little understanding of my mother’s bipolar disorder. And until her suicide I had zero understanding that she was also schizophrenic, and that she was prone to depression. I knew she religiously took prescription medication, but I had no idea about the details of her mental health issues. Or how bad things could be.

Shortly after my mom went off her medication, she fell into a deep depression. Stopping the prescription along with her raging hormones threw her off balance.

After forcing herself to smile through a day of shopping with a friend and getting ready for a black-tie New Year’s Eve event, she opened one of the safes in the house and pulled out my dad’s nine-millimeter gun. And then she waited, tortured by her own mind. When my dad went upstairs to find out what was taking her so long to get ready, he found her sitting on the bed with the gun in her hand.

She was crying and he tried to console her, then for no discernable reason she stood and shot him. One perfect shot, as if she was trained to kill. It tore through his heart, and he died almost instantly. She seemed even more distraught because she killed him, so she turned the gun on herself. Again...one shot...this time to the side of her head. And she too was dead. The whole scene lasted less than a minute.

How did I know these details? Because she recorded it. She didn’t want the maid or me or anyone else  to be blamed for the deaths. So she moved one of the existing security cameras into the bedroom that afternoon and set her laptop on the vanity to record everything from two different angles. She planned their deaths. And yeah, one of the videos was leaked to the public.

I arrived home a couple of hours following their deaths, after spending the evening at my best friend’s house. I went home to get ready for my boyfriend’s New Year’s Eve party and only had an hour before I promised to arrive. Since I didn’t have much time, I was a little focused on myself that evening.

I walked into the main room of our condo and said I’m home before going to my bedroom to change for the party. No one responding wasn’t too surprising – I thought I’d be home before they left for their event, but assumed I had just missed them.

I was starved and couldn’t make my mind up about what to wear, so I threw on a t-shirt and sweats and ran downstairs to grab a snack while my flat iron heated up. When I walked into the kitchen, which was open to the living area, I noticed that no one was around.

Again, that wasn’t too abnormal. It was New Year’s Eve...it’s possible my parents let the staff off for the night. Usually either the butler or the maid would stay in the condo all night, but the fact we were alone didn’t stand out as too conspicuous.

But then I noticed that the Christmas tree lights were still turned on and the gas fireplace was roaring. The switch for both of these would have been turned off, had my parents left. So yeah, my assumption about them leaving already was wrong.

Mom! I called out from the breakfast bar, loud enough that my voice would echo off the marble floors and reach the upstairs rooms. I stilled for her response so I could track her down. But there was no response.

Dad! I yelled, a bit louder. Again, I stilled...and again, there was no noise in the condo. I had the best dad ever – he would never let a call from me go unanswered. Where the heck were my parents?

I turned off the tree and fire, then walked through the rest of the bottom floor of the condo, checking both of my parents’ offices and the formal dining room. Every room was void of people and the condo was silent.

A tingle of panic started to creep up my spine. Something was very wrong. I ran upstairs and went straight to my parents’ bedroom suite. I swung the door open and immediately froze.

Blood was splattered on the pastel blue wall behind their bed, and soaked into the cushy silver bed cover where they both laid. A pool of blood surrounded them. The whole room smelled of rust, and looked like a blood bath from a horror film. It was undeniable that they were dead. Through the blood I could see their skin was pasty and pale.

I slammed the door closed and ran to the nearest guest room to call the police. When the 911 operator answered, she asked how I knew they were dead. I explained the dark red blood puddled around my dad and that my mom’s head was half gone.

They told me to stay out of my parents’ room, and the police came within minutes. Not more than a half hour later, an NYPD psychiatrist who worked for Family Services was sitting with me trying to evaluate just how fucked up I was.

I couldn’t stop crying. Everything I knew about life was changed in an instant. I had a strong, accomplished mother who ran a profitable data analytics firm and a dad with his own law practice who managed all of the high-profile mergers and acquisitions in New York and Washington, DC. Both were now dead with zero advance warning. I instantly realized that there was nothing in life that I knew for sure.

My whole life was wrecked.

I spent the next week or two in a daze, but eventually got my wits about me and forced myself to make some decisions. I didn’t want to disrupt my life more than it was so I was lucky that my aunt Karla – who was assigned custody of me – agreed to let me stay in New York to finish out my junior year of high school.

Our maid had been with my family since I was a toddler, and my aunt trusted her to watch over me. So my aunt and uncle did their best to parent me from Washington DC, coming up to the city every other week or so and talking often on the phone and with video chats.

I took a couple of weeks off of school at the start of the spring semester, then my school sent tutors to the condo to catch me up on the missed classwork. I stuck with the tutors for the rest of the year after trying to go back into the school for a few days...returning to my old life just didn’t feel right.

It didn’t help that all of my old friends were acting strange, at best. They either clearly didn’t give a crap about what I was going through or dealt with me tentatively, like I was going to go crazy like my mom. I didn’t want to be around any of them except Harper, my best friend. My boyfriend, Xavier, didn’t know what to say or do to make me feel better, so he just faded away and I let him. So, aside from Harper and the maid, I was pretty much alone.

My aunt was my mother’s only sibling and my father was an only child. All of my grandparents were dead, so our close family was nearly gone. The only family I had left looked and sounded exactly like my mother. That made it just a little harder to move on.

After struggling to complete my junior year, I didn’t want to stay in New York for my senior year – I knew it wasn’t conducive to my mental health to live the hermit lifestyle I’d recently adopted. And I knew a change of scenery would probably be a good thing. Since it took me a couple of extra months to finish the junior year classwork, I didn’t move down to DC until the weekend before the first day of senior year.

I transferred from Trinity in New York to the Georgetown Academy in Washington, DC – both highly regarded private schools. The staff members from my old and new schools discussed my transcripts and defined my schedule for the senior year. It would be a new start for me, and I could still graduate on time and in good standing. So I packed up my things and moved to DC without looking back.

Chapter 2

When I arrived at my aunt and uncle’s penthouse in downtown DC, I was thrilled to see my room for the first time. It wasn’t the guest room I usually stayed in when we came to visit. My aunt combined a guest room that had an en suite bathroom with the bedroom beside it by knocking out the wall between them.

The end result was a huge bedroom with a sitting area, walk-in closet, windows on two sides and the room was on the opposite side of the penthouse from my aunt’s bedroom. I was amazed she had it completed by the time I moved in, and was grateful that she got my input about colors and accents so she could have it decorated just like I’d like it. And I did like it, very much. Almost as much as my room in my parents’ condo.

I only planned to be in DC for my senior year of high school...and as long as I was comfortable, I knew I’d be happy enough. After high school, I’d figure out what to do next. If I didn’t make a decision, I’d return to New York to plan my future.

As of Saturday morning, I had two days to get settled into my new digs before classes started. After morning coffee with my aunt and uncle, I went upstairs and stood at the entrance of my walk-in closet, checking out the uniform that I was expected to wear to school.

I was used to uniforms, but this one was so conservative that it was going to be a challenge. My aunt had the school send over enough combinations to get me through the first week. The blazers, shirts, and skirts I was almost OK with, but the shorts and pants had to go.

I thought about loopholes I could find in the uniform code – no young girl should have to wear unflattering clothing. Unfortunately, the Georgetown Academy was a bit stricter than Trinity, so I planned to wing it the first few days and see what the rest of the student body did.

Resigned, I shut the closet door and started to unpack my things. I spent a few hours unpacking and setting up my room to my liking. Then I plopped down on the queen-sized bed and looked around just as aunt Karla tapped on my door. It was halfway open, so she poked her head in.

Hey, lady. It’s time for dinner. Are you all settled in now? she asked, looking around.

Yeah, I guess, I said, squinching my face. All this change. It’s not easy, ya know?

I know. Your whole life has been upended, and we’re both still recovering from losing someone special, she said, walking into my room and sitting on a chair near the bed. Well, we lost two.

Yeah, I said.

Yeah, Aunt Karla solemnly repeated.

We both sat in silence for a beat. It was hard for me not to stare at her as her expressions changed – she was the spitting image of my mother and I really missed my mother. Watching my aunt was a double-edged sword. It felt comforting and relatable, but it was painful to have such a glaring reminder that I’d never see my mom again.

I closed my eyes when the pain started to settle in, and when I opened them I noticed Karla was spinning a box between her hands. There were also a couple of white shopping bags at her feet.

You know, she started, staring at the floor in a daze. Your mother was my best friend, my other half. I would do anything for her. And I loved her...so much.

I know. She joked that she had me and my father as the loves of her life, but you and her shared one soul, I said, instantly tearing up.

I knew my mother said that only to make me and my father feel good. The real love of her life was her twin all along. If I was the love of her life, why would she leave me alone, without a mother or a father? And if dad was, how could she...

Hey, Morgan...you know your mother loved you more than anything, right? Aunt Karla asked, seeing the downturn in my facial expressions.

Yeah, I croaked through tears that threatened to fall over my lashes. I guess it’s complicated.

Your mom was amazing. And exactly how wonderful you thought she was. She just had some challenges that she kept a close watch over. Your mom was incredibly creative and when her mental health wasn’t maintained, well...she misjudged reality. I know how it works; I saw her deal with this when we were teens, before she knew what the problem was and before she got on the therapy and medications to help her.

I huffed and couldn’t stop the half smirk that crept on my lips. The flame of rage ignited inside me. For months, since the deaths, I’ve had surges of anger that drained me of energy. It wasn’t healthy, but it was uncontrollable.

And then she took my father’s gun out of the safe and shot him. Then shot herself, I said, as tears trickled down my face. I instantly regretted the angry comment. We both knew it wasn’t as simple as that and Aunt K didn’t deserve my ire.

Honey, it wasn’t your mom who did that, it was her sickness. I can’t tell you enough how much she loved your father, and we both know he didn’t do anything to trigger her actions. She was sick, and there was no indication she’d do anything like that.

Maybe someone should have reminded dear old dad to take the fucking guns out of the house as a precaution? Maybe that would have been a good place to start, I said. I knew I shouldn’t be snippy with Aunt Karla, but I couldn’t ignore the glaring truth or the anger I still felt inside.

In retrospect? Yes, you’re right. But he didn’t think she’d ever do anything so violent. It wasn’t like this when she went off her meds to have you. She was a little challenging, yes, but she was also pretty much in control of her mental state. Aside from the months she was carrying you, your dad only knew her while she was on medication. Her psychiatrist told them to expect a little tumult last year, like it was during her pregnancy with you, but no one could have planned for this.

I understand, I said. I’m sorry. Sometimes I just get...bitter.

I didn’t know what else to say. This was the first real conversation about what happened that we’d had. For months I couldn’t talk about my parents’ death, even with Harper, and I always kept my conversations with my aunt light.

Aunt Karla got up from the chair and sat