Page 4 of Pretty Vile

Every repressed feeling, every smothered memory, is now bubbling to the surface. It won’t be long until they overflow, and if we don’t find Emilia, there will be no stopping the explosion.

I'm startled out of my trance by the buzzing of the phone in my hand, and as I wade through the murky waters of my disorganized thoughts, I murmur, "Hold on, Wilder's calling."

With the touch of a few buttons, I add Wilder to my phone call with Hawk so we can all hear what each other is saying.

“Anything?” I ask.

“No. You?”

“No.”

“The security cameras didn’t catch anything either,” Hawk informs him.

“Now, what?”

“We were just discussing that,” Hawk says.

I force my head back into the game. "We need to explore the entire campus before doing anything else," I remark.

Hawk, who is more familiar with the school than I am, says, "Okay, well, the English department, where you are, is on the east side of campus. The west side is where sorority row and student dormitories are located.”

“Hawk, you take the west side of campus,” I instruct. “I’ll remain on this side, and Wilder, you search the center of campus.”

With everyone in agreement, we hang up, and with renewed determination and agonizing pain shredding my soul, I continue my search.

Chapter2

EMILIA

Blinking, I stare up into a face I’m familiar with.Veryfamiliar with. A face I’ve looked at nearly every day for the last four years. The person whose face I sought, after receiving a B on my freshman year English essay, which detailed the empowerment of significant female figures of the past and how they were ahead of their time, because I was convinced the male teacher was a closet anti-feminist.

The person on whose shoulder I sobbed after having sex for the first time since Hawk and Wilder and discovering it did nothing to erase them from my heart and mind.

The person who I celebrated with when I got my dream job offer.

The person with whom I confided all my hidden fears about Richard and our relationship.

The person who is both my best friend and a stranger.

Although, as I peer up at the chilling gleam in her eye and the detached smile slowly playing along her lips, I come to the realization that I never actually knew this woman I shared a dorm with for four years.

“I don’t understand.”

There’s barely enough strength behind my words to make them audible. Nevertheless, in the small, otherwise silent space, she hears me.

Reaching out a hand, Mel strokes her fingers along my hair before tucking it behind my ear and brushing my cheek. It’s an oddly gentle and caring gesture, but instead of comforting me, it sends a skitter of chills down my spine.

“That’s okay. You will.”

Stepping into the middle of the room, she holds her arms out to her sides and does a little twirl, a maniacal grin brightening her features. “I did all of this for you. What do you think?”

I take another look around the room in confusion. We are in what appears to be some sort of storage space. There are no windows; the only source of light is a fluorescent bulb hanging overhead. That, together with the musty odor of disuse, only reinforces my initial suspicions that we are in a basement.

Mel, however, has redecorated, choosing an out-there theme featuring my every private moment from the last few weeks. Everywhere I look, I’m confronted with photos of myself with Hawk, Wilder, and Kai, each one serving as a reminder that none of those intimate moments we shared were the private, impassioned touches I believed them to be. That theyshouldhave been.

Anger bubbles low in my gut, even as it’s overshadowed by fear and confusion in my struggle to make sense of everything I’ve just learned and try to understand what it is Mel wants.

When I choose not to respond—because, seriously, what am I supposed to say to that? I love what you’ve done with the place?—she looks away from her handiwork. She must catch the astonishment etched on my face.

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