Nudes [ɴᴀʀʀʏ]

Undercover with Styles

The party was in full swing and that bothered me, there wasn't a single person who I'd seen that wasn't totally drunk. There weren't any family photos or possessions linking me to the residents of the home. I suppose that they had been put away so as to keep them in tact. It made sense, but it also pissed me off.

Harry frowned all the way up to the door and I understood the length and extent of his irritance. I was irritated at the amount of time that we had put into physically tracking the perpetrator only to have found that the supposed home of the suspect was filled to the brim with drunken teens and such.

It was absolutely unfortunate, and I despised my luck in that moment for it hadn't been the best as of late and when things seemed to be making a u-turn, I'd only been heading back into the rough.

I was not too sure about going into the home of some stranger and attending their party, but then again they were quite sure about about hacking into my cell phone and thieving my private photos for their own personal gain. Well moreover keeping what I'd accidentally sent, but it's all the same anyhow.

Harry pecked my lips, and we parted ways, searching for evidence on who the suspect was.

I could barely find a thing. There was the constant fear of me going upstairs in order to find something, and being caught, but trepidation pumped my blood in ways that other things could not, so I made my way up.

I caught wind of Harry going for the basement just as I made my way to the platform at the peak of the staircase. The foyer was short, there was an evident bend that led to a different corridor, but I decided that I would explore later.

I checked room after room, coming up with only a couple halfway through getting undressed, a portion of the footy team at our school smoking marijuana [disappointed I was], a boy using his phone on one side of the room, and a girl doing the same on the other side and an intense game of beer pong in the middle of said room.

No family portraits, no names on door frames. Nothing. I kicked the floor and headed into the next corridor. There was a total of three rooms. The first room appeared to be locked, but with a bit of pressure opened with ease. It was a girl's room, definitely a child as it was dressed in Frozen dolls and princess stickers. There was even a princess mirror as seen on Snow White. Princess benches and beds, the whole shebang.

It struck me as odd that I could hear nothing of the party, and that this entire corridor was completely abandoned though there weren't any clear instructions that objected entry to the desolate place. Still though, I carried on.

There was nothing other than the earlier described items within the room, and I found myself becoming slowly disappointed. Two rooms left and from so far no evidence save for the fact that this bastard was pretty damn CIA about keeping his/her personal information on lock.

The next room appeared to be a small study. I was careful not to sit in the chair no matter how tempting it was to swirl in it. I scrambled through the papers hidden within the file cabinet, coming up with records on everyone in town. Literally everyone.

I kept down, as I scanned over all of the files, finding that Taylor Dooley had been arrested twice and that Anthony Dumas had been the one who had really donated the eight part donation to town hall contrary to the standard belief that Carolina Zau had been the kind heart. I found that Cecilia Simpson had been contained for searching town files. What a coincidence.

I took note of who to watch out for, I never knew exactly who was holding the knife and aiming for me. I saw that those who I trusted to be on my side were for whatever reason fairly clean as far as records went. It was daunting though, finding out that I couldn't particularly trust everyone. Especially when I had done so before.

I pushed the files back in neatly and moved on, careful not to make amateur mistakes. There was something about the final room that was both whispering and then screaming at me to stay back. I pushed on, ignoring the static like feeling that made it's way to my legs and the rapid increase of my heart rate.

It suddenly felt cold, almost like someone had opened a window and a presence had begun to loom over my being. There was that spine chilling feeling that said turn back, but then again there was a certain kind of curiosity that I had come into contact with, the kind that I would practically die for.

I was a strong believer when it came down to the statement that curiosity did not always kill the cat as I'd lived through so many curiosity driven experiences that I could barely believe curiosity to exist as a factor when linked with death. The knob was cold to the touch, but under the intense heat of my hand warmed up to me. I still felt a strong sense of trepidation when pushing the door open.

Me
Me
Me

Photos of me and I could only feel sick. Target practise, devil horns, handlebar moustaches and blacked out teeth. These were the things that I found on many of the photos. I was no longer scared, I did not know what I was in particular, but it wasn't happy.

The files had no locks applied and I should have known that rummaging would have not been in my best interest as I came up empty handed.

Still wondering who it was that I'd ever wronged. It was a proper thought I suppose, I'm not one to bully others or mouth off or even offer my snide comments, so it boggled my mind day in and our.

"-and that's when I told Selena that Ella was on the other line!" Voiced someone from the hallway. It was followed by an uproar of laughs that sent a sharp pain in the direction of my chest. The fear of being caught had been the last thing on my mind, but then, as the opportunity manifested itself, I found that it was far much more frightening than discovering images of yourself that have been used for heinous activity.

It was partially like the joke was once again on me. I mean, this wasn't the first time that photos of me had been exploited.

"Yes, if you all will excuse me. I must attend to a personal matter. It will be brief."

I am royally screwed.