Chapter Fourteen By The Pricking Of The Thumbs #2
He now thinks I’m with Alistair. Let’s just add that to the list of things that doesn’t need to be happening in my life right now.
I nearly sprint to my room, fumbling my way into the door.
Everything begins to spin, I can’t seem to catch up with the speed of things.
The room is dark, besides Lyra’s bedside lamp, the dim light casting a shadow onto her sleeping face.
A book she’d been reading resting on her chest as she sleeps peacefully.
What I would give to do that.
To not dream of him.
To not think of him.
I lock myself in the bathroom, rushing to the toilet where I collapse hard on my knees. They dig into the tile as I empty what little food I have in my body out into the white bowl.
My ribs tighten, my throat already sore from the stomach acid. My eyes shut as static flickers behind them. All the snakes. All the blood. The sound of them howling with laughter as they chased us through the woods.
It was a game to them.
They’d probably only killed Chris for fun. A joke. So bored with all their money and status they had to up the ante. Knowing their last names would save them from any backlash they received.
They wouldn’t even come close to getting caught, because in all the chaos is calculation. They have a reason for everything, a plan, always plotting their next move.
I don’t stand until I’m sure I’m done, only then do I begin shedding my clothes and hopping into the white titled shower.
Pulling the starch, plastic curtain closed I close my eyes, lifting my head up to the shower head as my fingers turn the cool metal to scorching hot water. I wanted to melt the memories off me.
“Uh.” I gasp sharply, the water is a shock to my system, my freezing toes stinging underneath the heat. I almost moaned at how good it felt. Dropping my head, letting the stream cascade down my back and coat my hair.
I felt every drop bounce off my skin, silence besides the pitter patter of water smacking the tile beneath my toes. I focused on my breathing, on the liquid, how warm I felt.
Since it had happened,I thought about why they’d committed murder. Were they truly that bored? Or had something else happened?
Were people really born monsters? Or were they conditioned to be that way?
And that girl, Coraline, they wouldn’t have done something to her, would they? Which led me to wonder, if they had done something to her, were they the reason Silas’s girlfriend wound up dead?
I couldn’t imagine someone being so cruel they’d murder their own girlfriend, but I’d also never seen anything like these four boys, so anything was possible.
Anything.
I was an outsider looking in on the secrets and treachery of this town. I was at a major disadvantage, Lyra knew the ins and outs. All I knew was what I was learning from day to day and it wasn’t enough to prepare me for them.
My fingers raked the tangles out of my hair, the steam from the water clearing my chest. I opened my eyes, my intention was to grab the shampoo for my hair, but I was blinded by red, literally.
At first I thought my knuckles were bleeding, but it was too much, there was so much blood surrounding me there was no way it was from me, I would have been dead.
It was like something out of a nightmare.
My hands were veiled with a thin layer of dark red fluid. It poured down my face, falling into my eyes making everything blurry. The color of blood enshrouds me.
I whip my hair to the left, watching it splatter on the white tiles leaking down to race towards the drain. I smeared it down my arms, across my stomach gaping at how much there was. How thick it felt against my smooth skin.
My heart raced, pounded, thumped and tried running for its life.
Even though it was almost scentless, the smell of iron and old pennies burned my nose hairs. It felt too real. All of this felt so real.
I remembered Chris and all the blood that trickled from his neck. This was my karma for not telling, for letting him die like a slaughtered animal.
Tears mingled with the crimson water, my throat clogged from too many emotions.But soon animosity swells. It bubbles and froths in my stomach because I know this is not karma. This was done by someone with two arms and two legs, not destiny or some devine intervention.
I felt stupid for doubting them. For doubting the lengths they’d be willing to go to in order to ensure our cooperation. They had been inside our dorm again. Showing how easily they could sneak in and out of our home, proving how unprotected we really were.
My hands reach for the shower nozzle, unscrewing and yanking it into pieces. Five fake, plastic pods are shoved inside, dripping with false blood. I sling the nozzle onto the ground, not caring if I wake Lyra.
I find the tiles for support, resting both of my hands on them as I drop my head down, breathing deeply.
It cascades down me in rivers and puddles, crashing against my skin and seeping down the drain. The red color taunting me.
Their way of telling me I have blood on my hands. Showing me that I’m not innocent in this. I watched them do that to that man. I didn’t scream for help or shout at them to stop, I just let it happen.
Chris’s blood coats my hands just as much as theirs. I was guilty. I was no better than them and that’s how they wanted it to be.
They wanted us to be dirty. Liars. Murderers. They wanted us to feel the guilt on our souls.
We are the puppets laced with their strings. Waiting for their next move. Our entire lives in their hands, who knows how long they’ll continue to remind us of that with these small antics.
They have us right where they need us.
There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
No way out.