12. Myles #2
If I were to disappear tomorrow, no one except Cipher and Echo would notice until my parents or siblings couldn’t get a hold of me, and considering we don’t talk all that often, it could be weeks before anyone in the real world knew I was missing.
I’m a non-entity at this school, and while that’s by design, knowing there’s one person on campus who’d notice I was gone is weirdly exciting.
No, that’s a lie. It’s very thrilling, and it’s the first time in almost five years that I feel special or like I matter.
Shaking my head, I snap myself out of that train of thought and focus on the statue. I should pull the camera out and break it, or at least toss it, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
It’s stupid and reckless, but I don’t want to get rid of it. Not yet.
I’ll just leave it facing the wall until I figure out what I’m going to do.
He might still be able to hear me, but what would he really hear?
Me swearing at my computer while gaming?
My half of my conversations with Echo and Cipher since I always wear headphones when we chat?
I don’t talk to anyone else, so it’s not like he’ll be eavesdropping on anything exciting.
My gaze is drawn to the clock puzzle on the other side of my room. Now that I’ve solved the shadow cube clue, my brain is feeling itchy, and I need to figure out what he was trying to say when he changed the time.
Pushing back from my desk, I walk over to my tallboy dresser and peer at the clock face. Four twenty-two. He changed the time to four twenty-two. It’s specific enough that it has to mean something, but what?
Is it a date? Does it have something to do with April twenty-second? It’s not four-twenty, so it’s not a weed reference, and it’s not April twenty-fifth, so he’s not referencing that movie my old babysitter made me watch a half dozen times when I was a kid.
It’s not Easter or any holiday that I can think of, but I pull out my phone to double-check just in case.
The corners of my lips tick up in a smile.
Something tells me my stalker wasn’t trying to remind me about National Chocolate-Covered Cashew Day, National Kindergarten Day, or National Yellow Bat Day when he set the clue.
That means it’s probably a reference to the time, but why 4:22?
Does it mean something to him? Is that when he was born, or is it a reference to something important to him?
It’s possible, but it doesn’t seem likely.
Why would he give me a clue that means nothing to me?
How am I supposed to figure out what it means to him when I have no idea who he is?
I’m just tucking my phone away when I notice the time. It’s 4:35, and a glance at my window confirms that the sun is just starting to set.
My heart beats faster in my chest, and a little trill of adrenaline runs through me as I open my web browser. It can’t be that simple, can it?
It doesn’t take long to look up historical sunset and sunrise data, and I bite my lip so I don’t let out a little whoop of delight when I see that, according to the table, sunset started at exactly 4:22 the day I challenged him to play hide and seek in the woods.
Is that the clue? Or is it just a coincidence? And if it is the clue, what else is he trying to tell me?
I glance back at my desk and the statue that’s still facing the wall, then turn back to the clock.
With more excitement than I should be feeling, I turn on my phone flashlight and shine it on the clock face.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter when I see the camera.
This one is smaller than the other, and it’s much better hidden. Even with the bright light from my phone, I only noticed it because of the flare of light on the camera lens.
So he planted two cameras in my room, and they’re different models. Does that mean this one has different features? Unlike the one he planted on my statue, I don’t think I can get this one out without some sort of tool or taking the clock apart.
I know I should do something, but instead of being completely freaked out about finding not one, but two cameras in my room, I’m feeling damn proud of myself for figuring out that they’re there at all.
“You are going to need so, so much therapy,” I say to myself as I hurry back over to my desk and yank open the bottom drawer so I can grab an empty notebook.
When I have it, I hurry back over to the clock puzzle and lean the notebook against the top of the dresser so it’s upright in front of the clock.
“There,” I mutter before I can stop myself. I have no clue if this camera has a speaker or microphone, but it doesn’t really matter at this point. The other one has both, and I’m guessing it’s sensitive enough to pick up anything I say in the room, no matter how quiet I am.
When the notebook is secure and the camera is covered, I take a quick look around my room. Is that it? Did he put a camera somewhere he didn’t leave a clue?
It’s possible, but that doesn’t mesh with his other actions.
But then again, he’s a stalker who had no problem breaking into my room to plant the cameras here, so I’m not sure I can rely on logic to figure him out.
The part that’s most confusing about all of this is why he left me the clues in the first place.
If the goal was to watch me, then wouldn’t it make more sense for him to do everything he can to hide that they’re there?
Why would he purposely give me a way to find them if there wasn’t a deeper meaning to everything?
There’s more to his messages; I can feel it, but without some context or insight into how his mind works, there’s no way of knowing what.
Slowly, I make my way over to my window and look outside.
Is he in the tree? That ever-present feeling of being watched is still there, the same as it’s been since I got back on campus, but it’s not as strong as it has been.
And definitely isn’t as strong as it was just before I held that message up to my window for him.
A heavy feeling settles in my chest, and a sour sensation makes my stomach burn with what feels like acid reflux.
This is so fucked up. I just found two cameras in my room, and I have no idea how long they’ve been there.
I’m assuming he planted them the day he moved the chess piece, but that could just be when he gave me the clues.
Maybe he put them in my room weeks or even months ago, and he only gave me the clues because he got tired of waiting for me to find them.
Either way, I should be freaking out. My first instinct should have been to get rid of the damn things, but it wasn’t.
This is so fucked up. I’m so fucked up.
I need to get out of my room for a while. I really want to go for a run, but I’m not in the right headspace, and I’m not ready to see him.
Instead I hurry over to my closet and grab my seldom-used gym bag, then go to my dresser so I can shove my running gear in it. The house gym is basic as hell, but it has treadmills, and I’ll have the place to myself for once.
It’s not ideal, but it’ll do.
Hopefully going for a run will help me reset and remind me why having a stalker who’s really good at forcing me to suck his dick and can fight like an assassin is a bad thing.