Page 32 of Alamort

These days, I spend more time in my room in front of the constant hum of my computers, searching for anything that will point me in the right direction. Bennett brought up the need to push Priya a little further. All of us can agree that we’re not happy with the results this far. It’s been almost a month at this point and there’s nothing to show how we’ve promised to honor Tyson, our best friend. My eyes wander from the glowing computer screen to the photograph of the four of us, like a bright patch of color against the dark surface hanging on the wall, flanked by heavy curtains. The summer when we were 16 and carefree. Now, everything feels like it’s falling apart without him. He was our glue. He saved us, and in the end, we couldn’t save him. Sadness tugs at my heart, but I push it away. Actions speak louder than words.

“All right?”Malice questions to see if I’m okay and when I don’t answer, he continues. “Are you daft, mate?”I make a face at Malice, thinking calling me dumb will get me to answer. Just because he’s taken the role of protector, doesn’t mean he’s always pleasant. He hates being ignored.

My hands rub up and down my tired eyes as I make my way to my perfectly made bed, thanks to Malice and his need for cleanliness. Malice’s insistence on cleanliness has resulted in a spotless room, with everything meticulously dusted and clothes neatly put away. He left my blue thinking ball on the nightstand. The only thing that is messy is the computer desk that I refuse to let him touch.

Lying back on the king size bed, the navy blue down comforter welcomes my body into its embrace. “No. I’m stuck. I feel like I’m failing Tyson and the boys. No matter how hard I look, I can’t find any new information. Everything is about her father’s successful career, her sister’s achievements, the charity events that they’ve thrown. I’ve even hacked into her old school database. Not one mistake in the past four years. She’s like a fucking ghost.” Agitation shows through my usual calm when I throw a pillow at the wall. It lands with a soft, unimpressive thud onto the hardwood floor.

“Did you mop the floors?” The lemon scent in my room is more noticeable now that I’m not staring at an electronic device.

“Yeah, throwing a wobbler will help you figure it out.”He ignores me. The disapproval of my behavior is evident with his bored tone.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do, Mal?” Gritting my teeth to ask because it’s what this fucker wants. He knows something.

“I’m glad you asked, mate. You’re stuck behind a computer when she’s just a walk away. Instead of getting all cheesed off, go observe her.” He brings up my irritation and says the simplest thing.Observe.Meaning…

“What haveyoufound out, Malice?” I implore.

“Bloody hell, all this revenge plot. But you blokes have no idea what you’re doing.” Smug satisfaction rings in his voice. Nothing better to him than being one step ahead. It’s annoying.He’s supposed to be on our team.Myteam. Instead, he’s playing games with me. “All right, I’ll tell yousomething. But after that, take a look in the mirror. You’re knackered. All work, no play, makes Malice a dull boy. That’s how that saying goes, right?”Rolling my eyes at his clearly botched proverb.

“Have you seen her eat?”Trying to picture the few times I have seen her in the cafeteria, it’s always something light. A salad, eggs, seafood, maybe some chicken now and then, but she always has a glass of water. I nod. He’s waiting for me to connect the dots myself. She hates good food? No, Mal wouldn’t waste his breath for that. She’s obsessed with her figure? My fingers tap against each other, callouses rough against the next, starting at my pinky. Thumb to pinky, thumb to my ring finger, and so on. Eating disorder? It’s possible. It’s small, but it’s something.

An idea strikes me. I jump across the bed to grab her cloned phone off the charger to go througholdmessages. We assumed since she was away from her family, there would be an influx of text and calls, but that hasn’t been the case.

I pull up her text messages. Her most recent text is to her sister. Clicking on the thread, I start from the most recent message and scroll up. If circumstances were different, I’d probably feel a bit sorry for Priya. Hundreds of text messages from Priya to her sister go unanswered. The ones of her pleading with Addison to just talk to her or give her a sign that she’s listening make my stomach sink. Others act like she’s giving a daily update about her life. Some messages are angry and filled with hurt. Most of them are simple ‘I love you’s, that go ignored. Damn, she must’ve done a number on her sister to be iced out completely. Months and months. Not a single reply. Not a “fuck you” or “Don’t talk to me”, just radio silence.

Her next thread is her father, Robert Carter. He himself is a shitty human being and politician, currently in the run for senator. He’s always been a greasy shitbag. It wouldn’t surpriseme if he was an even shittier father. He never sends a text longer than one word. There isn’t a single word of affection for Priya. Daddy issues?

The phone dings in my hand, alerting me to a new text message. I watch in awe at the accuracy of my software and programming work with ease. A little pride thrums through me. Priya adds a new number to her contacts. River. I’ve seen the two girls smitten with each other since Priya’s arrival here. It’s no surprise that River’s hacking and computer skillsalmostrival my own. It would suck to see a fellow techie become a casualty in a war she has no part in.

Priya goes to River’s message. She sent her a video. There’s a man in all black with a hat covering his face from the view of the camera, so I can’t tell who he is. At first, I think it could be one of the guys, but this is something they’d tell me. Whatever he tapes to the door has Malice bugging to come out. Blinking twice, I can feel the switch flipping. The world switches to silence and my eyes fall closed.

An Unhealthy Obsession - The Black Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

Do I coddle Saint a bit? Probably, but he’ll forgive me. He always does. He has to. We can only exist together. I needed to nick sometime with Priya while I can. The outside in October is parky if someone’s not used to it. Zipping up the black hoodie, I throw on the hood to keep up my anonymity from the cameras. I keep to the tree line to avoid any unwanted eyes from seeing me. The walk to her dorm room is fairly quick. For the past four years, I haven’t been allowed to be around females. It was unanimous with the Demons that it would be in everyone’s best interest for me personally to stay away. When I was ordered to ‘scare’ her, it opened a door I assumed had been nailed shut. But with Priya, she’s a special case.

There is so much I want to know. What makes her tick? How much does she know? Maybe she’s just as misunderstood as I am. That’s why the information Saint is obsessed with finding is right in front of him. But I want to hear it from her pretty mouth. She has secrets, and I crave to unravel them.

Hidden behind the building, the side door provides a discreet entrance for the janitors to enter without having to encounter the spoiled rich kids. Swiping my master key card, I got from the dean’s office. The red light flicks green. Although the lights in the female dorm lobby are dimmed during the night, they’re still bright enough to allow for clear visibility of anyone walking through the halls. To the right are the concrete stairs that go up to the third floor. I won’t take any chances of being seen by some nosey girl who hears the elevator ding. Plus, I don’t think Saint is prepared to be thrown into something he doesn’t quite understand yet. He’d be miffed, for sure. When considering the idea, there is a slight smirk as I contemplate how enjoyable it could be, like a fish out of water.

The time on my phone says it’s a little after 1AM. She should be sleeping peacefully in her bed. The stairs don’t leave me winded, reminding me that the time I spend at the gym is well worth it. Pulling my hood tighter to my face, the stairway door creaks open as I spot the room I’m looking for.

The soft carpet cloaks my footsteps, making it much easier to sneak past her nosy friend’s room. Taking the key card out from my pocket again, the lock turns green. Slowly turning the doorknob, I hold my breath, not wanting to ruin the fun by waking her. When it stays silent, I slink inside. Her friend is none the wiser.

Inhaling the room’s aroma, it smells like her. The fragrance of coconut and wildflowers brings back memories of my childhood in London, playing in the meadows, inhaling their sweet scents. I was quite fond of that smell. Her dark wavy hair lies sprawled across her pillow, while both of her hands are underneath her cheek. She’s wearing what looks to be an oversized white T-shirt for pajamas. The face of a vengeful angel. Even during sleep, her brows furrow, keeping the constant frown she wears. The weight of her heavy lashes casts a shadowfrom the moonlight on her high cheekbones, concealing her haunted gaze from the world. If I pull her hands down a bit, it would appear she was praying.

Speaking of hands, I grab a zip tie from my coat and ever so slowly slide the black pointed tie behind her wrists. She doesn’t move a muscle. Her soft breathing remains undisturbed. Fishing it through the hole, each groove clicks as it gets tighter. I’m not ready to tighten it all the way yet.

First, I need to obstruct her vision before she knows who I am. Her room is too clean. The way I clean Saint and I’s room. No personal belongings other than her clothes. I’ll be back to inspect it all soon enough. Stalking to her closet, I grab her school tie to use as a blindfold.

Here’s the tricky part. Do I blindfold her first? Risk her waking and getting her hands out of the binding? Or tighten the binds and risk her seeing my face? Decisions.

Staring at my Little Monster, I decide I’m not ready for the fun to end. If she wakes, it’ll be easy to subdue her. The last two items I have are a roll of tape, in case she gets too loud and attempts to call for help and my small blade I take everywhere with me.

Carefully, I put the tie gently around her eyes and double knot it. Not my best work. As I run my fingers through her hair, it feels soft as silk. I want to make a pillow out of it. That’s a thing, silk pillowcases. A whiff of coconut reaches me and I realize it’s her hair products. In the room’s stillness, a shrill hiss pierces the air as I fasten the zip tie, pressing harshly into her skin.

If. No. When, she struggles it’ll cut into her skin and leave beautiful marks showing I was here. We’ll both know what it’s from.

With each intake of breath, her chest rises and falls frantically. I know what comes next, so I slap my hand over hermouth to smother the scream, predictable. Grabbing my blade, I set it against the throbbing pulse in her neck and wait for her to settle.

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