Page 45 of Alamort

“Fucking pervert.”

“What was that?” There’s no way he heard what I was muttering under my breath. It seems that he interpreted it as a indication to come closer. My eyes dart to the doorway. I’m only a couple of steps up on the ladder. This jump wouldn’t hurt… much.

He's close enough that the metal steps of the ladder dig into my back, in an attempt to get away. His sausage fingers run over the buttons on my school uniform. My stomach rolls. Much like his nephew did. Right as he’s about to speak, the door to his office swings open. He startles and skitters away. In the doorway stands Saint. Unlike Bush, his mere presence in the room is enough to dominate the entirety of the office. It’s suffocating and dark, like it was this morning. Remembering the terror on River’s face as he pressed a knife into her side, my jaw clenches.

Saint hums, taking in the scene before him, looking between the dean and me. His steel-blue eyes hold a dangerous calm. His tongue runs along the piercings in his lips, drawing my attention away from his stare.

As the words, “You-You’re dismissed, Miss Carter.” left Brian’s mouth. The tension in my posture leaves and I practically skip down the ladder, my heel catching on the last step. Thrown off guard by the abrupt presence of a hand reaching out, I quickly react by instinctively throwing myself out of harm's way, eager to put some distance between myself and the perceived danger. The hand, quick and firm, grabs me and pulls me behind a wall of a man, herding me towards the door. An intriguing combination of leather and wood emanates from Saint bringing back a vague memory that I can’t quite place. My shoulders lose the tension I’ve been carrying since walking into Bush’s office. Whatever connection my mind is trying to make, I quickly dismiss it to get away from Bush.

Once I make it back to the safety of my room, I shut and lock the door behind me, pressing my forehead against the cool metalof the barrier that hides me away. As if that’s kept anyone out this far. The moment I inhale, my muscles automatically become tight and rigid. It…smells wrong here. Like when walking into my room after Addi had been in there, I could smell her long after she left. Or forgetting to take out the trash. When food is left out on the counter when leaving in a hurry. There’s a smell here that doesn’t sit right.

Upon opening my eyes, my arms go limp. The energy I had accumulated from the headmaster’s office is sucked out of me completely with the chaos that has consumed my room. Papers scattered everywhere, and furniture overturned. The bed, which once used to be cozy and inviting. Now lies in disarray. Its stuffing ripped out and scattered about. Small strips of shredded bedding fill the room, and feathers from the cream colored down blanket settle on every surface. Someone has ransacked the kitchenette, tossing now, opened food packages haphazardly. There goes the last of my food. The Demons’ haven’t let up on my personal rations of rabbit food and fruit for dinner. Hunger grumbles in my stomach, aching at the thought of discarding carelessly wasted food.

My eyes fixate on the closed closet door. A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow it down. My sister’s sweaters. I have more at my parent’s house, but these were her favorite. The threadbare hoodies that are timeworn with love. She mostly slept in them. She was always cold and shivering, even with the heat on. These articles of clothing are the most precious things I own. Pictures can be replaced, but objects that hold her scent or that her skin has touched cannot. The odds of someone missing my closet after destroying my room are slim to none.

The room’s vibrant colors seem to drain away as I reach for the doorknob. My focus shifts to what awaits me on the other side. The unsettling creak of the door is magnified by the surrounding silence. I’m already regretting bringing somethingso important with me here. In our house, we left her room untouched, a constant reminder of her absence. Forever frozen in time, the way she left it.

My heart pounding, I utter a silent prayer before forcefully ripping open the door like a Band-Aid. Quick and painless. Only, it’s not. Inside, ripped clothes lay in tatters, while someone had recklessly thrown crimson liquid around, coating everything in its path, including the formerly immaculate carpet. My eyes bounce back and forth, scanning the destruction, hoping to spot any trace of the three hoodies. Faded white, beige and baby pink. My hands shake as I reach into the trash thrown around the closet. I search through the pile of clothes, frantically sifting through anything that resembles her hoodies, discarding everything else in the process. My body trembles, heat covers me from the inside out. Where the fuck are they? Anyone who came into my room wouldn’t know the significance of these clothes. Turning around in a circle to see if I missed something, I squint when I see the safe. Only touched once when I first got here. It’s unlocked and barely cracked open. A sinking feeling settles over me, like a demon leaning over my shoulder, filled with excitement that has me breaking out into a cold sweat. That means someone knew the combinationandknows it’s my sister’s birthday.

“Open it”, a voice whispers in my mind, spooking me even further. I’m procrastinating. Whatever is inside isn’t a good thing. At a snail’s pace, I open it. Inside sits my sister’s precious hoodies, unscathed from whatever disaster struck the room. Relief loosens my shoulders. They’re okay. It’s short-lived with the black letter on top, lined with my name in red calligraphy. Gingerly reaching in to not touch the clothes with my red stained hands. I carefully pluck it off the top, then settle back on my haunches to open it.

Whoever did it was kind enough to save one of my most prized possessions. Could it be my Shadow? My painted fingers massage the oncoming stress headache. My Shadow doesn’t seem to be the petty type. Destroying my things is too childish for him. Now, destroying my life? That would be more his pace.

With trembling fingers, I open the flap,

I’ll always ensure the well-being of my possessions.

Yeah, that’s not creepy at all. I’m thankful for my things being saved from the carnage and all, but not enough to truly be in debt to someone over it. Is it too much to ask for someone to be a decent human being?

I should ask River if she can look into the hallway cameras again. The worst she could do is tell me no.

Priya

Hey, can you look in at the cameras again?

Her response is instant like her phone was in her hand.

River

Yeah. What am I looking for?

Do I start with whoever gave my room an extreme makeover? Or who left the letter? It could be an answer to both.

Priya

Someone broke into my room. It’s destroyed.

Not even five minutes after I’ve begun to sort through my things, the door to my room swings open. River stands in thedoorway, her hands fly up to her mouth. Windblown jet-black hair and chunky combat boots, I can’t help but imagine her running here, her cheeks blushing with a rosy pink hue from the wind.

She splutters incoherently before she’s able to form words.

“What in the actual fuck?” The words sound foreign in her mouth, like she wasn’t made to say curse words. It brings a smirk to my face. I’m corrupting her heaven bound soul. Instead, I nod and continue to put everything into garbage bags for housekeeping to take. Realistically, this is their job they’re paid to do, but helping speed up the process wouldn’t hurt.

“I’ve already got ahold of the office, the cleaners, and the people who are supposed to be in charge of the dorms. They should send you money to replace all your things. I also took the liberty of sending the dean the video of Oscar and Amber breaking into your room. But I didn’t send him the one of the guy dressed in all black coming in beforeandafter they had left. I thought you would want to see it first.”

My eyes narrow at the phone in her hand before she tosses it to me. Watching the video, my face flushes, my knuckles turn white from the death grip on her phone.

“Whoa, okay killer.” She plucks the phone out of my hand, caressing it gently.

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