𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝟐𝟎 | 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

Antoinette

        Missing person flyers were plastered across the windows of Maya's bookstore and bistro, and the face on them was unmistakable—the same girl who worked here... and the same girl I'd seen at Christopher Ford's birthday party. She'd been missing for about a week now, according to a woman named Elena, who I'd overheard sobbing on the street while making my way here.

Every time I came in here, this girl was always present—whether it was behind the counter, wiping down tables, or chatting with customers. So, seeing Maya act completely unbothered about the fact that she was missing, it rubbed me the wrong way. It was as if the situation didn't even faze her. I couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't more concerned, or at least show some kind of reaction. The nonchalance was unsettling, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about the whole thing.

When Maya caught me looking at her, I quickly turned my attention back forward, pretending to be absorbed in the shelves of books. My fingers brushed over the spines, but I wasn't really searching for anything specific—I just needed a distraction from the growing unease I felt. The sight of the missing person flyers was too much to ignore, and the strange, almost casual way Maya seemed to handle the whole situation only made me more suspicious. My mind kept returning to the girl, trying to piece together what I'd missed.

Suddenly, the sound of the entrance bell chimed, pulling my attention toward the door. I turned to see who had entered, but my eyes immediately snapped back to the shelf, a mix of surprise and discomfort flooding over me. Micheal and Matthew Benedict walked inside of the bookstore— Matthew, looking frustrated as usual, and Micheal, as unbothered as ever.

After my encounter with Micheal inside the theater, I realized two things. First, he was strange, unpredictable even. And second, he didn't like me. That one stung a bit more than I cared to admit. I couldn't understand why he felt that way.

Though, as time went on, I started to realize that perhaps it wasn't just me. Maybe Micheal didn't like anyone.

"We need to talk." Matthew Benedict's voice broke the silence, his tone calm but firm as he moved smoothly in his grey suit. Maya nodded in response, her expression unreadable, and without another word, the two of them disappeared into the backroom of the store.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Micheal casually plop himself down into a chair at one of the tables in the center of the room. What caught my attention, though, was the fact that his eyes were glued to me, unwavering. It was almost as if he were studying me, his gaze intense and unblinking. Despite his usual indifference, something about the way he was watching me now felt weird,

Within a minute of sitting down, Micheal was up again, his movements smooth but deliberate. My heart started to race as I realized he was heading straight for me. I quickly turned to face forward, pretending to focus on the books in front of me, though my mind was entirely elsewhere. The sound of his footsteps grew louder, and I could feel the weight of his presence drawing nearer, making my chest tighten.

"Why do you keep picking with me?" I asked, my voice steady despite the rush of emotions inside me. Micheal stood at my side, his presence overwhelming, much taller than I was.

"Picking with you?" Micheal scoffed, his tone sharp and dripping with disdain. "I was just wondering why you are the way that you are." His words hung in the air, heavy and accusing, as if he was trying to peel back layers of me that I didn't even realize I had. It left me questioning why he seemed so fixated on me—why I, of all people, warranted this strange attention.

"I feel like you're trying to tell me something," I murmured, more to myself than to him. "But you're not saying it." The words slipped out before I could stop them, a quiet frustration bubbling up inside me.