Page 155 of Eternal
“I saw them. In his office. The files. The girls. They were so young. Please check this.” She slid a usb thing in my hand. And then she left, disappearing into the crowd like she hadn’t unraveled something unspeakable.
I should have walked away.
But I didn’t.
I saw them too, she took pictures of what she found. Young girls, still in their working dresses. Not as old as 17, drugged and laying on the tables. I can’t even imagine what happened there.
So, I started watching him, like he watched her. Like, soon enough, he started watching me.
At first, it was nothing. A black car parked across the street from my office. A shadow moved past my window when I took my morning coffee. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe it was paranoia. The alcohol does make me see things these days…
But then the flowers came.
A bouquet of irises. My favorite. Left in my office with a small box tied with a silk ribbon.
I knew better than to open it. But I did anyway.
Inside, nestled like a jewel, was a small, curled piece of flesh.
I knew that tattoo…Alina’s. She was gone. And I was next.
The note was short, and elegant. Like an invitation to a private dinner, stop searching, or your turn will come.
I should have listened, I regret it now. I feel like I’m learning too much, and it’s all linked, but I can’t see clearly yet...
I need to go now, Azra is screaming at me that she finished doing her cake with her dad.
Gosh I hope I didn’t make her a target,
Be careful Amane, be careful.
I’m going insane writing to myself…
Okay see you soon me.
- yourself, Amane.
I slam the journal shut. My mother was right, she was right about him, right about the things no one wanted to see. And she died for it.
Antony Darveaux.
I push the journal aside and stand. I have a job to do, so, let’s be the best employee of the month.
41
AZRA
“Mount Everest” by Labrinth
Present
Islip into the kitchen, the smell of meat, wine, and heat wrapping around me like a shroud. My apron is tight against my chest. The space is gigantic, filled with glittering silver chandeliers. Only a few people move about, too busy or too self-important to notice me. I’ve done this a thousand times.
Blend in. Don’t stand out.
Other servers move through the small crowd, not many. One of them, a young girl, catches my eye. She’s shaking as she fills glasses with some fancy, overpriced wine. Her fingers fumble as she pours, the glass tilting too far, and her eyes keep darting around, like she’s looking for something, maybe a way out.
I’ve been watching her since I entered. She’s too young to be here, and I’m trying to figure out why.
