Page 6 of Web of Lies
……… you’re way too good for me. Marry me?
Me:
I know I am and never. I’m not the marrying type.
“Doyouseriouslyneedtwo computers to function?” My older sister Callie grunts, as she puts my heavy desktops near my computer desk.
My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. “One is for fun, one is for school. Of course, I need two. It’s a requirement,” I say with a shake of my head.
She huffs at me, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling like I’m ridiculous.
One desktop computer protects my identity from the feds. The other is for Angel Warrior and homework. It’s simple. She doesn’t need to know the specifics, though. I mean, if I told her how many times I’ve poked around the Pentagon’s protected files for fun, she might have a heart attack. For as many times as I’ve used my skills getting gross photos of her off the web, you’d think she’d understand.
“Well, they’re heavy,” she mumbles to herself as she steps away to bring in more boxes.
My eyes roam the oversized apartment. A small kitchen sits to my right, with a microwave, stove, and large refrigerator. All top of the line and shiny, like they’ve never been used. A stackable washer and dryer sit to the left, situated in a small closet. One bedroom sits off the living room with a king-sized bed, two matching nightstands, and a matching dresser with a mirror attached. My very own bathroom, with a stand-up shower, and a huge bathtub sits off the living room. I may have grown up in privilege with my parent’s wealth, but we’ve always been a modest family. And to have all of this all to myself? Amazing. No more fighting Callie for the shower or Bodhi for the toilet. It’s. All. Mine.
Gray stains the walls in a neutral color, with a few wall decorations here and there. But the most important pieces of decoration hang by the front door. Two canvases, simple pieces of artwork hang from the wall. Yellow Daffodils blow in an unseen wind, surrounded by white and green blurs, abandoned by the artist who brushed her soul into every stroke. Only leaving behind her tiny cursive signature in the bottom right corner—M. S. Magnolia. Maggie’s mother gave them to me after she passed. They were supposed to be my Christmas present, but Christmas never came for her. And now, I’ve hung them on the walls to remember my goals.
This place is probably way over the top with way better accommodations thanParkfordoffered.Parkford—the college of our dreams, the Ivy League school we would have gone to together. Mags and I planned every detail. Down to rooming together in the tiny dorm rooms.
My mind often drifts to fantasies of doing homework together. Or trying some parties for once, and plain old chasing our achievements. Our future burned brighter than the North Star, but since she was taken away from me, the light was snuffed out. As if the bright light bulb of life inside my heart exploded into darkness, the second the bomb of her death dropped.
“I’ll figure this out, Mags,” I mutter to the empty room. “I’ll find who did this to you.” If these walls could talk or share her secrets to me, I’d succeed in my ever-evolving plot for revenge.
“Talking to the walls again, Squirt?” I groan as Bodhi, my older brother, ruffles my hair. I slap him away with a huff of annoyance. He must have finally come back after visiting the football field—he should have stayed there and basked in his old glory.
Chuckling like a maniac, he sets a heavy box onto the ground, wiping his hands clean. If it wasn’t for him, my sister, and my mom, I wouldn’t have survived the move here. My dad would have helped, but he had business to attend to, but that’s probably a good thing. I love my dad to pieces, but he’s so bossy sometimes.
A whistle erupts from between his lips, as he takes in my new home for the next nine months. “They’ve really upgraded the rooms in this place. Damn, Callie, why didn’t we ever live on campus?” He asks with a frown, jealousy sparking in his brown eyes.
“Because we never would have trusted you two, besides, at the time we only lived thirty minutes away. We may have lived in a different town, but there’s no way in hell I would have trusted you both to be on your own.” My mom chirps, fluttering into the room with grace. She places one last box onto the ground and wipes her hands clean.
“I take offense to that! We would have behaved,” Bodhi says with innocence, but even I know better than that.
My mom cackles at his words, shaking her head. “Says the boy who got caught running naked across his college campus and yes, there were photos.” Bodhi pales and his body stiffens as he turns to look at me.
“I swear I had a certain squirt who took care of those problems.” He raises a brow at me, and I shrug.
“I was like—fourteen and had just started that. Obviously, I missed some, but don’t start blaming me for your weird college nudity.” I say, continuing my perusal of the room.
Bodhi flaps his lips angrily in my direction. But as my mother says, I never pay attention.
Somewhere within these walls, Magnolia hid away evidence of her murder. Her true feelings, beyond the emails she sent. Something, anything to give me some hints. She wrote me emails, yes, giving me almost every detail of her adventures—or should I say nightmares—here. But deep in my gut, I feel like I’m missing important links in her story. I need to find them.
I can’t exactly go around the school begging for information either. Ainsley and her gang would never give me straightforward answers. Magnolia’s real journal would. She wrote down everything in it and it somehow went missing from this very room and they never found it. Either her murderer took off with it or she hid it. Somewhere—now I just have to figure out where. The floorboards? The walls? In a plastic bag in the toilet? For fuck’s sakes, it’s a giant hole in my scheme I need to be filled with answers. Magnolia hid her secrets well, and I intend to find the missing pieces.
Bodhi grunts as my eyes move back to his retreating form. “I’ve lost her!” He throws his hands up in frustration, and walks out the door without a goodbye. Presumably, he’s headed back to the football field to rub elbows with his old coach, and sign autographs. He’s oddly popular around these parts because of his football career.
My brain must have tuned him out for longer than I thought. Such a finicky man, expecting me to pay attention for over two minutes on old news. My mind is too jam-packed with critical information right now to listen to anyone.
“You, uh, going to be okay with this?” Callie whispers in my ear. “I’m assuming you planned to room in Magnolia’s old apartment?” She watches me carefully, eyeing my face. From the constipated look she’s giving me, I can tell she’s trying not to trigger my grief.
As if—I’ve held onto this pain and grief from the day my mother sat me down in tears and explained to me what happened. So, no matter how many times my stomach turns, or the anger resurfaces, I wield it like a weapon. It fuels my revenge.
“It will serve its purpose,” I say with a tight smile, eyeing my sister. She sighs dramatically like she has no clue how to handle me and my revenge plan.
“For fuck’s sakes,” she mutters, wiping a hand down her face. “Fine. But if you’re ever feeling sad or whatever you feel, call me. No matter what time of day.” She raises an eyebrow. She knows me too well; I don’t ask for help. I forge on and do my own thing, which more often than not, gets me into trouble.
