Page 46 of Alamort

Both Amber and Oscar were in on it. In each hand they carried a gallon of red liquid before Amber pulls out a key card for my door and opens it, both slithering in like snakes.

“Does everyone have a fucking key to my room?” I say between clenched teeth. River’s face pales and she shrinks back from my anger. I understand River’s need to have a friend, and I even appreciate it. Without her I would have no one, but a small part of me can’t help but to wonder if her having an all-access pass to my room started a trend.

Surveying my dorm, my bones grow weary. What am I going to do? Sleep in the tub? I haven’t looked in there. I don’t want to. The room pales compared to the disgusting thoughts that flood my mind. Everywhere I look, there is red liquid–pooling on the ground, seeping into the torn bed, and smeared across the countertops. Where do I even start? River stands with her hands in her hair, looking as perplexed as I feel.

There’s a part of me that thinks River is in on it. The timing of her arrival every time I have a problem or she’s already there. It could be the paranoia from the dean. It has to be. Blaming River for my bad luck isn't fair. She could easily say the same about me. I’m sure her life wasn’t this exciting before I came. I’m dragging her down with me.

“Why don’t you stay with me until your room is back in order?” she proposes. My eyes dart over to the floorboard that appears untouched. My stuff. I’ll check on my contraband and see if I can make room for my sister’s clothes in there.

“Just let me get some things and I’ll be right over.” I like River, but I hope we don’t tire of each other. 24/7 with anyone sounds like hell. She loves being around people and I need peace and quiet. Some things can’t change, no matter how hard you try.

Nothing compares to the satisfying feeling of accomplishment. Well, that’s not true. One of the top items on that list is the jobs we receive from Elijah. My lip curls into a smile as the warmth of the whiskey slides down my throat.

“What’s for dinner?” Bennett unceremoniously jumps on the sectional across from me, disturbing my peaceful inner thoughts. His feet prop on the arm of the couch. The obnoxious behavior makes my nostrils flare. He walks around stepping in God knows what all day. And he couldn’t even take his shoes off before he did it. It’s ridiculous how frequently I have to tidy up after him as if he were a toddler. How difficult is it to place your filthy feet on the floor?

“I’m not your mother. Figure it out.” He sits staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. “And get your damn feet off the couch!” I growl. A wide grin lights up his face, just like when we were kids, and he would get caught doing something that would get him in trouble. That’s what he wanted. A reaction. He’s bored.

“Go play with Amber.” I roll my eyes at his childish behavior.

“She’s mad at me right now,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. We both know he doesn’t care if she’s upset. A snap ofhis fingers and she’d be right where he wanted her. In his bed or on her knees right here in front of us. Time, place or audience is irrelevant. What would cause him to not want to play with his favorite toy?

Quiet footsteps halt in the hallway as Saint emerges, his presence a rare sight after spending most of his time locked away in his room. We should check in on him. Saint’s normally icy blue eyes are dull and hollow. He slumps down next to Ben on the couch, his body moves sluggishly as he rests his head on the back of the cushion.

“What’s for dinner?” He asks.

“What do you want? Do you want to order in? Or I can make something.” The look on my brother’s face is priceless. His eyebrows raise, jaw hangs open, and his arms extended in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” He says through maniacal laughter. It takes everything in me not to laugh with him. What can I say? Pay back is a bitch. I rest on the loveseat, feeling the stiffness from not using it often, and act clueless.

My brows furrow with a mock frown. “What do you mean? He’s hungry, Bennett. Am I just supposed to let him starve? What kind of monster do you think I am?” Saint lazily peeks open one eye to observe the show. Bennett jumps up and paces back and forth in front of me.

“I’mhungry,” he emphasizes. A smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth.

“Take out tonight. But can you make tamals soon?” Oh, Bennett is going to lose it.

“Yep.” I reply, taking another swig of my whiskey and releasing an audible sound of satisfaction. The sound of Saint’s snickering in the background is the final straw that unleashes Bennett’s verbal rampage.

“Crew! I’ve been begging you to make mom’s tamals forever! Saint asks one time, and it’s ‘yep’? Why does he get the special treatment? He has a condition, not a fucking disability! You can’t possibly think he’s prettier than me because we share the same face!”

He thinks he’s the only one who can get under my skin. But fails to realize we’re twins. Regardless of the time spent apart, I’ll always know him better than he knows himself.

He obsessively rants about loyalty and food. I’ve blocked him out. There’s nothing he could say that I haven’t heard already. Saint pulls out his phone from his sweatpants to order our food for tonight. Wherever he goes, he knows our orders by heart. After finishing, he lets us know when it’ll be here. Since he’s finally made an appearance out of his hole, I figure it would be a good time to talk about this morning.

“This morning proved to be eventful.”

Ben stops in his tracks. He spins on his heel with a devilish smile in place of his running mouth. Even though Bennett prefers to watch, having an audience turns him on just as much. Throw in someone who is attractive? That’s a wet dream come to life.

“That collar was a nice touch, diamonds?” He praises. While I can hear the questions about my intentions at the same time.

“I won’t have a pet who looks like trash. The entire student body was a witness to our not so subtle claiming.” I wave off his concern. I would’ve been fine with a shock collar around her neck. Then she’d be more compliant. But that would be less appealing to look at.

“Malice did well today, keeping River in line.” Saint nods. Malice is unpredictable at best, so knowing he was able to control his urges was a win.

“Actually, there was one thing I did want to talk about, something I found in her old messages.”

Is that why he’s been absent lately? Looking for more information? My heart swells at the thought of him being able to help and not feel like a hinderance to our cause. He needs to feel wanted and being helpful does that.

For a second, I was worried he had found out about the letter and that was the cause of his absence. Malice has a tendency to push Saint to extremes, claiming it’s his job. Sometimes I’m not sure if we have the same definition of the word “protection”.

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