Page 52 of Alamort

Saint’s shoulder slump as he recovers from whatever the fuck that was.

“All right, you know how dad made sure there was barely any coverage on Ty’s death? What if he wasn’t the only onepulling strings? What if there was another death that the Carter’s wanted to cover up? We thought it was just to keep Priya out of the papers for burning down the building. It wasn’t making sense to me. Why did the texts and calls to her sister go unanswered?”

He looks at us for an answer. I’m caught off guard because I thought it was rhetorical and he was going to answer it.

“Her sister hates her and the fact she killed someone is unforgivable?” I question.

Saint’s finger goes up in an “A-ha” gesture. “That is what we thought. But we were wrong. Her sister is dead. She killed her sisterandTyson in that fire.”

A gasp leaves my mouth and my eyes stare at him in horror. She killed her sister? Oh, that’s fucked up. Why? This brings me more questions than answers. Who would kill their sister and why was Ty collateral damage?

“How are you sure?”

A smug smirk that’s more like me than him sits on his face. “I thought you guys would say that. So, I made sure to fact check everything. At first, I was confused. No mention of it in the media. No funeral. It’s the type of messages she would send her sister that got me thinking. I used the cloned phone to place a call to the cemeteries in Los Angeles. Eventually, after many phone calls, I got the right one. They immediately recognized the number and who it was. I played the part of a surprising boyfriend and got her plot number and confirmation of Addison Carter’s gravestone.”

“You’re sure?” Crew asks, coming out of his shocked stupor.

“Absolutely, Exhibit A.” He does a grand gesture towards his computer. Addison Carter’s grave sits there on the screen. Some generic shit on the headstone. My body faces the computer screen entirely, with my back to my brothers. I look up at theceiling when my sinuses sting and attempt to sniff it away before someone calls me out.

I don’t know what kind of fucked up person could kill their sister. Thinking of Crew or even Saint being killed makes me queasy. Maybe it’s the times we have almost died or the tight bond we have. My brothers would never die by my hand. The guilt would eat at me for the rest of my life. I hope it does to her.

A plan forms in my mind.

“I know what we should do next.”

The morning mist hangs heavy in the air, lending an extra dose of eeriness that adds a deep chill in my bones. The forest surrounding the dorms and school seems like something out of a horror movie. Dense, tangled trees and ominous silence. Something is lurking, ready to snatch us from this life. Obviously, I mean me personally, because no one else seems to feel that way. Students chatter happily on the way to Theodore Hall for breakfast, as if the world was completely at peace.

There are people struggling to make ends meet? Not a problem here. We use money to wipe our asses.

World hunger? Not us, we never go hungry.

The thought of food instantly triggers my stomach to growl. I raise my water bottle to my parched lips, drinking greedily to soothe the relentless ache of hunger.

The effects of not eating are taking a toll on me. I’m always tired, but now I’m waking up tired. The cold I usually feel might be because of the change in weather from California, but it’s like an ongoing desire for warmth. I don’t want to inconvenience River by constantly adjusting the heat in her room. I’m already always there.

She is without a doubt the ideal roommate someone could hope for. We have established a schedule over the last three days. She still doesn’t understand boundaries because whether I’m peeing or showering, she’s telling me a story or rambling about her day. It distracts me from my emptiness, mostly.

My room is supposed to be complete today, so I can reclaim a little privacy. There is no mention of any improvements to the locks or security measures. Amber and Oscar are still walking around with a sense of superiority, noses stuck in the air. Either way, the space and isolation will be a welcome reprieve, a cool-down period. It’s been a whirlwind of events since I set foot in this place.

River pulls out my chair for me at our table.

“Thank you, kind sir.” I say in jest.

Her smile stretches from one cheek to the other, lighting up her entire face. “Someone has to do it. None of these assholes would be caught breaking a nail.”

River’s voice trails off as her eyes wander over to the breakfast buffet. The one I’ve stopped going to because the chefs interfere and give me a piece of fruit instead of eggs Benedict, Belgian waffles, or French toast. Another swig of water for the hunger.

“What?” I ask River, who is uncharacteristically quiet.

“I don’t know… Something seems off.”

I stiffen. Off like Amber and Oscar? Off like the Demons? There are a lot of things that can be “off”.

“Behind the buffet, there’s a projector. That’s never been there before.” The need to run away overwhelms me. I’m ready to bolt. I cast a worried glance over my shoulder, noticing the Demons. My stomach clenches tight at the meaning of their sudden interest in breakfast.

Could it be from breaking Crew’s phone? I retaliate one time and they’ve rained hell down on me.

“River, I want —”. Before I’m able to tell River I want to leave, Bennett heads up to the projector that’s lit up a neon blue on the wall. His walk is calm and confident, his hair a tousled dark mess. The front buttons of his school uniform unbuttoned and his tie nowhere in sight. Not surprising considering the Demons’ law is the only law.

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