The Cult of Romeo

VIII. Fear of the Unknown

Act 1, Scene 8

I sat at the corner of the library and away from the window this time, paranoid that somebody could have been looking in. I'd probably drunk more today than I had in a whole week. Whenever I felt that prickle of eyes on the back of my neck, I chugged the Jack Daniels from my flask, even going back to my room to refill it at dinner time. It wasn't the best way to deal with it all, but it was the only way I knew how. 

When I was anxious, I lost control of my visions, plucking at every person's memories who even scraped against my skin. I couldn't deal with that any longer and so I drank. I drank until the storm clouds of fear in my mind cleared to a mist that fogged over everything to a dull throb. My shoulders were rolled back and relaxed, my mind free from filters and skin buzzing to do something. 

 A wooden chessboard sat proudly in front of me on the table with its pieces settled in different positions. My brother taught me how to play when I was young. He was very good at it and needed somebody to win against to boost his confidence before tournaments. I didn't mind that I never won, I was just happy to be involved. Recently, I had been playing the game by myself, and even while I was at home I'd coop myself in my room while my cousins explored the woods beside our house without me.

Sometimes, Julien would creep into my room and try to play with me but it was never the same. Julien hated silence and he would never shut up long enough for me to think. When I played with Henri, he'd scold me if I even breathed too loudly saying chess was made for silence. The habit dragged along and even now as I played against myself, I made sure my breaths were silent and eyes wide. 

If I thought hard enough, I could imagine Henri was sitting opposite me. Leaning back in the seat with his arms crossed and smirking at my frustration. I moved the white rook forward and somebody tutted behind me. 

I jumped around to see Khaleel as he shook his head. He reached over me and shifted the black piece to counter the move. 

"Stop, I have a clear plan up here," I pointed to my head and swatted his hand. "I have it all sorted out, don't you worry. I'm basically a grandmaster. White will win, black will lose. And the game I played before this one, black won. See, they take turns, it's fair." 

As amusement danced in his eyes, at the words I spoke messily. Khaleel rounded the table and sat opposite me. "Go on then, show me." 

I hesitated for a moment and just let my eyes travel the area of Khaleel's face. For a second, I was stone-cold sober. After what Vincent had told me about Khaleel, it was difficult to see him any other way than that of a kid who was kicked out of his old school and was eerily fascinated by the death of another student. 

It perplexed me, though. My brother, Henri had taught me that things weren't always just black and white. People had different sides to them. Good people did bad things and bad people did good things. Even though he looked good and kind and beautiful, he could have been hiding a deep dark secret. On the other hand, although the evidence against him was pretty dark, Vincent could have misunderstood it. 

I wasn't sure what to make of him. It wasn't as though I trusted easily, either way. But the thought that I could have been talking to a murderer irked me. He couldn't have been a murderer, that wouldn't make sense. Nothing made sense anymore.

 Leaning over the board with my eyebrows furrowed from concentration, I threw myself into play. With eleven moves, six for black and five for white, black had won. 

I sat back down with a triumphant grin. 

"I didn't know you could play," Khaleel commented as he brought his bag up onto his lap to open. I had to decide quickly whether or not I trusted Khaleel because what we'd entangled ourselves into couldn't be a half-in, half-out situation. I either had to trust him fully or not bother at all.