Chapter 18
No one knew me better than I knew myself. I knew what I liked to eat, wear or entertain myself with. I knew pretty much everything there’s to know about me, but I could never fathom, why one part of me always wanted to go against me.
Drizzling rain covered the windshield like milky haze.
I reached for the radio to listen to the news and see, if there was anything about the attack.
“What are you doing?”
“Turning the music on.”
“You’re pressing the wrong buttons.”
“Then press the right ones.”
Norman let out a pained sigh and pressed a button. Music was playing.
I let the song play for a few seconds and began switching the stations.
“Quit surfing the stations. The noise gives me a headache.”
I stopped when I heard the news.
Norman gave me a sulky look.
“I changed my mind about the music.”
“Yeah.”
I never liked the news, but that day I needed it like wet soil needs the sun after long months of rain.
I was hoping to hear that everyone already knew about the university.
That people were screaming about it from the rooftops.
I needed the names of the dead and the missing. I wanted to hear something .
I kept listening. Waiting. There was nothing about the attack or our town on the radio. Nothing.
It’s like we never existed.
An upbeat song followed the news. It didn’t resonate with my feelings of disappointment and devastation.
What if they were still there? What if they were still holding everyone hostage? What if they’re torturing people? What if there’s an ambush back there?
“Do you have a gun?”
Norman frowned.
“Yeah, but you’re not getting it.”
“And I’m not asking you for it,” I replied, parroting his tone.
We got pretty far away from the manor. I could run and ask for help. There might be people at the university. They could call for help or help me themselves. There were security cams, too. Someone would check the footage and see I was still alive. Then they could start searching.
Wouldn’t it be better for the reaper, if everyone thought I was dead? For no one to know I was still out there?
Kidnappers never let their victims go. They keep them on a short leash or in a cage, like animals.
Why wasn’t he worried about me trying to call the police on him? Why was he so sure about me? Why was he giving me freedom he’d robbed me of not too long ago?
We turned onto the road to the university. My heartbeat rose as the car rolled on. I was watching the outskirts closely. I was expecting them. Waiting for them to jump out to ambush us.
Norman turned to the parking lot.
Why did I come here?
The parking lot was just as desolate as the rest of the campus. On our way there I realized we didn’t see a single car or any people around whatsoever.
Ilion was dead .
I didn’t want to leave the car. I wanted to tell Norman I changed my mind. That I wanted him to take me back.
I quickly got out of the car, unwilling to keep kicking these thoughts around in my head.
The silence on our way to the dorms was nothing short of deafening. There was no wind, no rain, no people.
I expected to see reporters, forensic specialists, the police, survivors, casualties, anyone, really. But all I saw was blood on the lawn, the only trace of their crimes.
Memories dazed me in a flurry of blinding flashes as I pulled the door to enter my dorms once again.
Fear. The screams. The murders. The blood. So much blood.
My hand was shaking and I couldn’t pull the door.
Norman moved my hand out of the way and opened the door.
“Where to?”
“Second floor. Right down the hall. Room16.”
Heart was pounding in my chest, ready to burst in sheer terror. Thoughts of stumbling upon her dead body drove knives into my heart.
What if she died?
Norman opened the door, and I let out a relieved sigh.
She wasn’t there.
“Make it quick.”
I took my suitcase and a backpack from the cabinet.
Norman hovered over me like a jail warden, watching closely as I gathered my things.
“Curious about my underwear?”
“Couldn’t care less about it. But I can’t say the same about your phone and laptop.”
No surprise there.
“As you can see, the laptop’s on the desk.”
I pointed my hand at it .
I wasn’t looking at the things I was taking. I ripped everything I saw off the hangers, throwing it in the suitcase.
I remembered my phone was on my nightstand, under a textbook on existentialism.
Once I was done packing the suitcase, I tried closing it, but it wouldn’t budge.
I was huffing and puffing, acting like I was struggling. I was trying to make it look like the suitcase wouldn’t close under my weight.
“It won’t close.”
I gave him the puppy-dog eyes.
“Step aside.”
Once Norman’s full attention was on the suitcase, I turned my back to the nightstand and swept everything on it into my backpack.
“Why do you need so many clothes? He got you a full wardrobe of stuff.”
“I don’t want his things. Besides, someone’s already worn them already.”
“No one’s worn them before.”
“Haven’t other girls worn the clothes?”
“Other girls?”
He looked at me like I was speaking gibberish.
He zipped up the suitcase and lifted it.
“There were no others.”
I frowned.
Why? Why me then?
I sat on the bed, holding the backpack on my knees. I reached for the maxi pads on the bottom shelf.
My left hand gripped the phone in the backpack while the right one was packing the pads. I made it look like I was struggling to push the pads deeper into the backpack as I was hiding my phone .
I zipped the backpack up, left it on the floor and headed to the desk.
I quickly scribbled a note for Bell, “I’m alive.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I didn’t see anything. And neither did you.”
“I’m not risking my neck for nothing .”
He was about to come to the desk, but I got in his way.
“Two words can’t harm anybody.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“Please. Let’s go,” I said under my breath.
He stalled, then swore and turned to leave.
I smiled at his back.
Norman took the suitcase and, of course, the backpack.
We got to the hall and I said nervously:
“Oh, shit.”
“What now?” he whined.
“I think, I’m...”
“What?”
He looked annoyed.
“I’m leaking. Crap. I need to go to the bathroom before I get blood on the dress.”
I headed to the bathroom hastily before turning around and walking back to him.
“I need pads, and I really need to change my panties, or I’ll...”
“Holy shit, I didn’t ask you to tell me about it. Just take the backpack and go already.”
I took my heavy backpack and ran to the bathroom.
I walked in and locked myself in one of the stalls.
I tried turning the phone on, but saw a red battery flash on the screen .
I couldn’t go back for the charger. I’d have to look for one at the manor.
Where should I put the phone? This damned dress had no pockets. I couldn’t put it in my bra, it would show. There wasn’t enough room in my shoes. I was wearing heels. I should have planned it better. I shouldn’t have given them my sneakers. There was only one option left.
I left the toilet stall and froze.
“Revenge” was written on the mirror in large letters in now-dried blood.
I felt a lump in my throat.
I ran out of the bathroom, nearly knocking Norman down.
“Fucking ’ell. What is it?”
I gave him the backpack and quickly walked towards the exit.
I needed air. It felt like I was inhaling blood. The whole place was soaked in it.
We got to the car without a word. I felt relief once I got back in the car. I shouldn’t feel that way, I was still in danger. But I allowed myself to wallow in it, at least until we reach the manor again.
That’s when the realization hit me like a brick.
He wanted me to feel I had no freedom. Wanted me to have an illusion of freedom.
I took a deep breath and realized I no longer had any.
All I had now were vivid memories and a fresh taste of it in my body.
And my life was never going to be the same.
He held it in his hands now. As well as the lives of my family. He’s a puppeteer, and I was a puppet.