Dark Corners / ✓

eighteen: of paranoid schizophrenia

"These are desperate times, Mrs. Lovett and desperate measures are called for." -Sweeney Todd, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street 

"Emmy! Are you awake? I hope you're awake!"

I reluctantly peeled my eyes opened and groaned, quickly assessing my situation. I was sitting on the couch in my living room, my blanket was on the floor along with a pile of notes, and the coffee on the table next to me had gone cold. There was someone banging on the door - Griffin, judging by the voice - at - seven-seventeen in the morning.

I let out another loud groan and swung my legs over the edge of the couch, "Hold on!" I called, grabbing a hoodie from the back of the couch and tugging it over my pajama shirt.

I knew I looked like a mess - I had passed out on the couch after studying, but, at that point, I really didn't care. I sighed and rolled my shoulders before walking over to the door and pulling it open enough for Griffin and I to see each other, but not enough for him to see how messy I still was. He didn't seem to notice.

"Thank God you're awake," he said, shooting me a sheepish grin, "I really needed your help with something. I've been up since five, but I didn't think it would be appropriate to get you that early."

Griffin did look like he was up since five. The clothes he was wearing - sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt - were crumpled, his hair was a knotty mess that would probably snap the teeth of a comb, and the bags under his eyes were dark and prominent. Desperate the evident exhaustion, however, Griffin seemed wide awake. Everything about him contradicted itself.

A walking paradox.

I frowned, too tired to try and act like being woken up at this time on my free day was anything but annoying, "What do you need help with?"

Griffin looked me up and down and bit his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing before his gaze rested on my face again, "Just get ready and come by my apartment, okay?" he asked, quirking his eyebrows instead, "I promise it won't take long."

Before I could ask what wouldn't take long, Griffin had gently shut my door for me. I stared at the closed door for a minute before letting out a frustrated noise. I wanted to go back to bed and get the much needed sleep I deserved, but I also wanted to see what Griffin needed help with. We had spoken much since the dinner at his dad's house, and I was just glad he needed me again.

So, without another thought, I trudged into my bedroom and began getting ready. My mind was running a million miles a minute, remembering the conversation I had with Ruslan the day before. He had told me to stay away from the Cutkosky case - to distance myself from Griffin, essentially - but now I was about to do the complete opposite.

Ruslan didn't understand, though. He worked the case from the outside, while it felt like I was working it from the inside. I knew things he didn't. Ruslan may have seen the case from a case file, but I was seeing it through spending time with Griffin, even if he didn't tell me too much.

I got dressed quickly, fixed my hair, and brushed my teeth before making my way into the kitchen. I grabbed a bagel out of the fridge, slipped into a pair of shoes, and made my way out of my apartment. I took a bite of the bagel and knocked on Griffin's door, nervously tapping my foot against the carpet under me.

"It's unlocked!" Griffin called, so I pushed the door open and walked in, surprised by the sight that greeted me, "Hey."

Griffin was sitting on the floor, papers, manila folders, photographs, newspaper clippings, and markers surrounding him. He looked up at me and blinked before standing, carefully stepping out of the circle that surrounded him and making his way over to me. It was then I noticed the smeared marker on his hands and the tape that was stuck to his pants.