Page 82 of Hide and Keep

I drag my hand through it, noticing something’s definitely wrong. The water’s not even liquid. It’s more of a…paste.

Ew.

I turn the handle back the opposite way with my clean hand.

“What the…” I mutter while studying my mush-coated fingers.

Semen?

No. This is way too dense, not to mention it just appeared. Semen, especially this much of it, would’ve been here before I started the water and it would’ve gotten thinner, not thicker. Nothing was in here before I turned on the water.

I don’t think…

I didn’t inspect the bottom of the tub, but I would’ve noticedthis.

Bringing it closer to my nose, I inhale again. It’s almost like…

Against every ounce of good sense in my brain telling me not to, I stick my tongue out and taste it. Oh. My. Goddess. It’s potatoes. Bland but creamy, mashed fucking potatoes.

But why? How?

Crue. He didn’t specify how many reasons he had for sneaking into my room, just left out putting dehydrated potatoes in my bathtub being one of them.

That…

Genius. I wish I would’ve thought of it first.

Damn it.

Today, Ever’s clones don’t seem as insufferable as they did yesterday. Probably because I finally got some sleep under my belt. I can’t help but smirk as I think about the instant potato flakes I sprinkled in Ever’s bathtub last night. I heard her running the water shortly after I walked out, then her banging on the wall between our rooms, letting me know she didn’t appreciate my present. I’m just wondering at what point did she figure it out? Did she notice right away? Or was it when she was naked, her bare legs slipping beneath the surface?

She hasn’t said a word about it, not even to bitch me out. I don’t know what she did with all the mashed potatoes because she didn’t leave her room once and she wasn’t carrying anything extra on her this morning. Probably washed it all down the drain.

Or left it for the cleaning lady to take care of. Edwin told me she’s at the manor every other day.

I sneak a glimpse over at my protectee. Face to the sky, she’s leaning back against one of the sculptures that are supposed to be American eels, and according to the plaque next to me, they are technically freshwater fish and only go out to the Atlantic to reproduce, which is news to me because I was under the impression all eels were saltwater fish. Apparently, they’re endangered, so this monstrous art piece placed in the middle of the nation’s wealthiest quad is supposed to bring awareness to their declining numbers. Pretty sure I’m the only asshole to even realize there’s a sign describing the giant metal water snakes and only because I’d rather read the same paragraph about eel migration until my eyes bleed than hear Ever’s friends discuss the merits of their families taking their yachts out before versus after the gala this weekend.

“What do you think?”

There’s a pause in the chatter and not in a comfortable way like previous ones, so I make myself glance around at Ever’s cheap knockoffs, finding them focused on me. All of them except Ever, who’s been silently raging all morning.

Only giving them my right side, I ask, “What do I think about what?”

Instantly, Ever’s head twists my way.

“For the gala?” Paris answers. “Would I look better with a tan or—”

“Why would you lower yourself to askthe help?” Ever spits, her aversion for me clearer than her friend’s desperate need for a compliment. She’s standing now, her arms crossed over her chest. Just a second ago, she couldn’t be bothered to contribute, but now, she’s got alotto say.

She draws naked pictures of me, “the help,” but her vapid little follower isn’t allowed to even engage me in conversation? Because I’m not worthy of having an opinion? My body’s worthy of her imagination, time, and energy though. With how muchdetail Ever puts into those drawings, I know she’s spent a lot of all three on me.

Aboutme. Jesus Christ.

If she spent any of thoseonme…

It was hard not to pull her on me the moment she walked in her room last night. After seeing page after page of what her hands are capable of, I wanted to. She’s a really good artist, very talented, but the way she draws me…it’s as if I’m a god or something. A superhero. Someone much better than the real me.

Which is why I didn’t actually pull her to me. Because she doesn’t wantme. She wants a cleaned-up version of me. She wants another clone to add to her collection.

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