Witnessing Infamy

C H A P T E R O N E:

C H A P T E R O N E:

W h e n I t C o m e s t o M e r c y

A watery counter had three different orange bottles in front of the mirror. Each were prescriptions always on hand for the taking when it came down to a rough night. The sink in the bathroom had been left on since three in the morning, unless the clock lied when I woke up in a panic. With a throbbing head and vision blurring another night was lost to the blinding migraines I had become quite used to.

My ears had been ringing so hard the night before, I collapsed in pain. My head must have collided with the counter, but I would never know for sure. The chain from my locket laid out on the ground, sprawled out in no particular pattern. The clock missing from the end.

Eyes watering, the reaction was Instantaneous. Just as if the most precious thing had been stolen from me in the night. My body moved rapidly, scouring the floor. Until I went completely still and looked up.

There was nothing I didn't analyze, looking for any sign that someone had entered the room without my permission. My stomach dropped until I noticed a paper folded on my desk.

Midflight, a motorcycle revved outside my dorm room window, scaring me with the sudden uproar. I was curled on the floor hyperventilating like a madwoman until it ceased. I could hear the hushed sounds of students crowding around down there. It wasn't unwelcoming, of course.

Knowing what I might find when I looked out the window, I took a quick peek before pursuing the paper that was laughing at me just a few feet away.

A male was still mounting the bike, occasionally revving the engine again as if to gain someone's attention. Unfamiliarity drowned him out and washing him away into the dozens of students that had crawled out of bed just to see the new arrival. His hair was a oak brown, it's reddish tint glowing in the sun. He has a black hoodie on with a maroon wifebeater underneath it. The boy had clean new jeans and adidas shoes. Not the typical dress for the kind of kid that wound themselves in this joint. Not that I'm one to talk.

His attention seemed to flicker over to me immediately after I finished going over his features. Saddening, the boy stopped giving anyone his attention, kicking down the stand and turning off his bike.

I darted out of the window and went for the note. A giant cursive C was practically bedazzled on the turned up half of paper. Unfolding itself slightly, I scowled at the tiny font.

You seem pretty attached to this, why don't we see what lengths you'll go to for it

~ C

I was ready to crush the paper but instead, I marched over to my closet and pulled the sliding door open so fast it clacked against the wood frame. I dropped my pajama pants and yanked on a pair of black skinny jeans, just cleaned from Laundry Week. The maids hired by the school weren't super great at using washing machines, nor did they know which clothes to keep out of the dryer, so the clothing in my closet was becoming a bit scarce.

I threw off my paling grey shirt and pulled out a random bra to clip on. My hands had begun to shake again but I finally wiggled the hooks into place, pulling on a tight royal blue tank and a jean jacket.

Without troubling myself for socks and shoes I sprinted down the hallway, note in hand. The line for the office was generally nonexistent, however that was not the case today. The lady on the other side of the counter was bickering with the boy I had seen earlier.

Bouncing up and down, I closed my eyes and counted to ten. A small hope, except it was pointless. My tempter had started to become uncontrollable. I stepped up, probably red in the face and flagged the lady to stop talking.