Page 87 of Tell Me Why
Footsteps get closer, each dullthudvibrating through my body, kicking my heart rate up another billion notches. I curl more tightly into myself, breath still held.
“Whoever’s left of Shadow and Ash scattered like cockroaches when the police showed up.” Then he says something, his voice dropping so low I barely catch it. Sounds like either “You go” or “Let’s go.” It’s hard to hear with my heartbeat pulsing in my ears.
There’s a long pause, and I swear my heart is going to bust right out of my chest. Then, finally—thank God—the footsteps start moving away, crossing to the other side of the room. The light cuts off, and I hear the door creak open, followed by the sound of it clicking shut.
I tilt my head back against the desk and finally allow myself to breathe.
They’re gone.
For now, at least.
Just to be safe, I wait a couple of minutes before scrambling out from my hidey hole and returning to my search, this time with a little more urgency. I’m still shaken, my body trembling, but I force myself to focus.
It’s pitch black in here—but I’m too afraid to turn the light back on. Especially with police and security crawling around campus. If they see a random window lit up, they might get curious and investigate.
I just need to get out of here. I have everything I need anyway.
I’m moving around the desk, headed for the door, when I freeze. There’s a heaviness in the room, a presence that sends goosebumps sweeping across my skin.
You’re being paranoid,my mind supplies.
My eyes strain against the murkiness in the room. Shapeless silhouettes melt into deeper pockets of darkness, but there’s no movement. Still, that heaviness lingers in the air, and for some reason, I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched…
“Is someone there?” My voice shakes, but when no one answers, I relax a little.
Then a voice cuts sharply through the silence. “Where’d you get the key to this office?”
My stomach drops, and I clutch the leather book tighter to my chest, using it like a shield.
“Christian,” I say.“I thought you left.”
No response.
“I heard gunshots,” I say, my voice faltering. “Is my brother okay?”
“He wasn’t shot,” he says.
My shoulders relax, and I pull in a deep breath—the first real breath I’ve taken since I heard those shots.
“Now—where did you get the keys?” he repeats.
“I found them in a drawer while I was cleaning,” I lie.
More silence, and maybe I’m imagining it, but I can feel his anger pressing down on me, suffocating me. I swallow nervously.
“You’re lying,” he says, his deep voice coming from the direction of the couch. “Only four people have the key to this office. Four. Not even facilities are allowed access.”
Anger bubbles up in my chest. “Lying,” I repeat, calm fury lacing every syllable. “You want to talk aboutlying?”I lean forward and peer into the darkness, eyes narrowed. “You had my best friend spying on me, reporting on every small detail of myfucking life,” I say, yelling that last part.
“I never lied to you.”
I scoff. The cunt. “An omission is a lie.”
Silence.
“Why did you do it?” I ask. “Why?”
Even more infuriating silence, and I wish I could see his face. I wish I knew what was going through his fucked up head right now.
