Page 119 of Veiled in Brick

She shifted her finger to the other images, gesturing at the living area of another apartment and the strange, grey room. “The hell are these two, then?”

Claire muttered, “No idea.”

“The one with the couch in it is 2D,” Luke spoke begrudgingly, as if he didn’t want to admit the knowledge to himself, let alone the rest of the room. “That huge grandfather clock in the corner there?” I eyed the clock to the left of the couch—it looked as though it could be as tall as me, made with an ornate wooden finish. A large, golden pendulum was slowly swinging from side to side behind a glass door, the time displayed above it. Luke continued, “Caught Mister Milkovich trying to move it in by himself when he bought it like…three years ago, I think? I helped him bring it in.”

I felt my head tilt to the side as I voiced my internal thought aloud, “Why would this guy put up a camera inside of his own place?”

“Ah,” Cassie began, “maybe he has something in there that he wanted to keep track of.” She paused, pressed her lips together tightly, and then rephrased, “Or someone.”

All of us groaned at her insinuation, and Claire added, “And that other room—think that’s in 2D?”

“It’s about the size of a bedroom, right?” Cassie remarked, “Looks like an insane asylum with all that padding. Creepy—”

“Soundproofing,” James said under his breath. He reiterated louder for us all to hear, “It’s like…insulation. Had drums as a kid; my parents stapled shit that looked just like that on the walls.”

Barely audible, Liam asked, “Why are we looking at an empty soundproofed room?”

Not a word was said—it wasn’t needed. I felt the room squirm, the tension palpable as we—or, at the very least, I—came to the conclusion that, yes, the cameras were placed in these two rooms to keep tabs on something valuable. Yes, that something valuable was intended to be me. And, yes, I was likely to have been kept in that soundproofed room—the door locked from the outside and my screams for help contained within.

The idea wasn’t even that far-fetched, really. If anything, the sight made perfect sense, but the thought of what would happen in that grey-padded room was enough to make my stomach twist. The gut feeling that I had experienced on our way here—the hesitancy—strengthened to the point that I could no longer hold my tongue.

“Yeah, we’re not doing this anymore,” I blurted out.

“What?” Cassie’s pretty head whipped to mine. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not helping us. We’re not trying to detain this man; it’s not happening—we’re done,” I said all of it in one breath, and it left me panting.

She narrowed her eyes. “We are most definitely not done, Zo’. If this goes right, this guy could be out of your life today.”

I shook my head quickly. “I don’t give a shit—this feels bad. It all feels bad.”

Cassie’s expression turned sympathetic. “Zoey, it’s gonna be fine. Like I said before—I can say I’m a new neighbor. All my friends bailed on me to help me move this morning and I have an…I dunno, a heavy chair or something at my old place that I need help with. You guys can show up and—”

“I have seen…no, felt how unhinged this fucking man is,” I told her bluntly. “And after seeing this shit—the answer is no. Actually,” my panicked voice hitched up, “the answer is no for everyone—none of us are diving any further into this. I’d rather go backpack in the goddamn woods and hide out until the police find him. I’ll do it for days—weeks; whatever—”

“Zoey,” Claire reached out to touch my shoulder, “breathe.”

I shrugged away from her touch. “Don’t tell me to breathe. Go find me rations to survive off of instead because we’re not doing this.”

“Yeah, Cas, we’re ditching this plan,” Liam spoke and then looked to me. “You don’t need rations; you don’t need to live in the woods. We’ll figure it out.”

Glancing around to find regretfully nodding heads, Cassie turned to James. He held his hands up in weak defense.

“Don’t look at me,” he muttered, his eyes pinched. “They’re right. Do you want to be the one that ends up in that room? Station opens in an hour; we’ll just go from there.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself further—to agree with them and say that I would wait until the end of fucking time if that’s what it took—but when I glanced at Liam, he wasn’t looking at me. The moment I had turned my head, Liam was sucking in a ragged breath that made me take pause, staring at the images before us with a brand new, boiling hatred.

James exhaled, “Shit,” as he glanced back to Cassie’s phone, and the rest of us barely had time to register the change on the screen.

It was the third image. All remained the same in the living area of what we had come to realize was 2D with the exception of one blaring thing—the man. He was there—pale-skinned, lanky-figured, dark-haired—pacing back and forth in front of the couch. And that was all that we were able to see him do because Liam had abruptly turned around with a vicious grunt.

Luke called to him, “Liam, don’t!”

Cassie and James stood simultaneously from their seats, and the rest unfolded before me in the blink of an eye. Liam bounded for the door. Claire and I yelled for him to stop. James ran to him and wrapped an arm around his neck, and he suddenly had Liam in a chokehold.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Liam croaked through the constriction of his neck, reached up to grab at James’ arm, and leaned forward.

“Jesus Christ, Liam!” James exclaimed as Liam briefly pulled him off of his feet. “Stop!”

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