ℭ𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴 𝔅𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 - ᴀ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀʏ ᴀᴘᴘʟʏ ꜰɪᴄ

𝟎𝟒. ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟꜱ, ᴘꜱʏᴄʜᴏꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴇxᴛ? ʙᴇᴀʀꜱ? ᴏʜ ᴍʏ!

The hall was too open, too exposed for her liking. Dallas shuddered at the thought of eyes on her back, but a quick glance over her shoulder determined that she was alone.

After the therapy, which Dallas had already decided to dislike, she’d gone back to the dorm with the hopes of taking a nap, but she’d been stopped with her hand on the doorknob by the sound of voices from inside.

The right thing to do was probably knock… but since when did she ever do the right thing?

Dallas crouched back down in front of the door and returned her ear to its spot against the wood's chipping white paint, trying to decipher what the panicked discussion was about.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” A girl said frantically. “They're going to think I did it!”

Another voice cut in, this one lower and much calmer, but a hint of panic laced his words. “How do you know that’s the same one?”

“What other one would it be?! Why would someone dump this in here? I’m being framed! Miles, you gotta help me!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” the boy said, desperately trying to take his own advice. “Where did you find it again?”

She sniffed. “It- it was in the vent and then it was gone and she was gone and- and now it’s back and I don’t know what to do!”

“Why did you have this in the first place?” The boy's voice dropped to a whisper and all Dallas could make out was, “Key… are you… -ing again?”

“I-” The girl’s voice cracked and muffled sobs cut off whatever else she intended to say.

That made up Dallas’ mind. She was out. Dallas refused to deal with people crying, not unlike most men, or a sorry excuse for one. Yes, her curiosity--AKA nosiness--was pained, but that was overpowered, for once, by her fear. Dallas and emotions… they didn't get along. Not like she got along with much anyway.

Dusting off her sweats, she gave up retiring to the dorm and ventured back towards the stairs. Dampened laughter and bits of conversation slipped through the cracks of a few of the other dorms, but Dallas was alone in most senses. According to the schedule Mrs. Graves had given her, the other students were free to roam the campus at the moment and it seemed that very few had taken advantage of the dormitories. Fine by Dallas; the last thing she wanted to do was socialize. She was perfectly content to pop in her earbuds and blast Metallica until it was time for food.

Just beyond the double staircases, the hall opened out into a game room complete with foosball, a ping pong table, and a table with an assortment of board games. On the far wall, another door led into what was dubbed ‘Jackson's Commons’ by a dull, gold plaque.

Dallas peered through the door’s window. It reminded her of the ones on classroom doors at public schools that served no purpose other than to allow administrators to spy on the classes while in session. Beyond the tempered glass, the room opened into a semi-circle rotunda furnished with an array of lounge chairs and couches. Light poured in from a huge window at the center of the back wall. The sunset tinged the glow an unnatural red, illuminating the room like a roaring fire.

A subtle smile crossed her lips as she pushed the door open, eyes fixated on the window. With a little bit of time and some paint, the glass would make a beautiful canvas. Dallas’ mind whirled with possibilities, settling on an image of an eye crying angry tears. With the way the light turned the clear glass to red, the tears would turn to blood on their own as night fell. How was that for symbolism?

Dallas forced her gaze away from the window--until she got new paints, that would have to be a project for another time--and sat down at the leather chaise just beneath it. She fished her earbud case out of her pocket and flicked it open.