The World's Aftermath [ON MAJOR EDIT]

Chapter 6 [Cleo]

Four chairs are aligned in a straight line, the same appearance when the last time I had been here with my group. Mrs. Hillary's desk rose taller in front of it, I could sense my hands tingling to open one of her files as I land my eyes on her carefree pile of them. All through detention, I knew she wanted to see me, though it doesn't seem like the so-called important talk. Like last month, the security guard wanted to see me urgently, he even did that with the speaker, the loudest sound anyone can hear in this school from anywhere, didn't that feel spontaneously important? Instead, jerking into the security was meant to be happening because my mom dramatically thought she'd lost me.

Unlike me, Austin starts touching those papers carefully, one by one. Quickly, I snap my eyes open and pull his hand away in my first thought.

"What? I'm just looking!" He says, defending his hand away.

"But no touching," I say with a quieter voice, stepping away from the chair which had been still and fragile in the middle of it's surrounding. I want everything to be untouched, if Mrs. Hillary came back, she'll have to see no difference are made in her room.

"Fine," Austin sighs, even through the dark moist air, I still see him eye rolling every second of my word.

But surprisingly, it didn't piss me off, somehow I'm pleased enough he's finally following my orders.

I start to look deeper in what Mrs. Hillary's office is filled with, though it's so bland and simple, nothing more than her desk that seemed busy with it's papers. I mean it's odd to say, she couldn't even leave a few unused utensils, there's a monitor that has this unusual square shape, her wall has nothing but a wallpaper covering it like a blanket. It's like standing in a bland odd room, more terrifying is that this is a teacher's.

Five seconds later the scream barricades into the walls, ten times louder than before, I cover my ears desperately, wanting to run away before the sound stops, flattering to the ground. Quiet and still. This is different from the hallways, the source of the scream became so real and almost believable to be drummed under my own feet.

"Cleo, you heard that?!" Austin stops cringing.

"Gee, why would I not? We can't stay!" I answer.

"Keep looking, the main source is somewhere here," he insists, grabbing hold of the shelf in the far wall, brushing off the books as if such things were a dangerous lever to pull on.

"You do not want suspicions in this room unless you can put everything back to together in less than a second," I say. If you'd know me very well, this anxiety could turn confusing from time to time. A wanted condition of gritting my nails and hope for something.

"Relax, I've got this under control," he ignores the loud falls of a few books. "Remember us and The Test? You did packing and I did talking, it went so well. I think we were more than just a team," he says, his eye finds mine, happy for a better response. Whatever he's trying to lure on me–sarcasm or not–I'll just always disagree as an opposite mindset.

"Sorry, I just don't trust you," I break his grin into a frown. "..Yet."

"Fine," he mutters unintentionally. He hops out of the shelf's platforms, a leather old book thrusted in his hands. "But check out this," he hands it out towards me, "Let's see if you believe me now."

"I didn't say I don't believe you, I'm not even sure your loyalty had shown up anyway, meaning I don't trust you," I shot back with a death look.

"Whatever, just open that up," he says with a look of ignorance.

My fingers tingle and shiver at the creeping feels, it starts out with a cold, dusty cover, but as I continue turning page one, the scream follows my move. Echoing it's loudest effect through the bold walls. I take it as a sign for showing that there is no good time to open up an unknown book in someone else's command.