Cleo Hart: Intelligence by Default

Asking for help

I woke up in what I presumed to be my bedroom, looking around. All of my things from the trip to the care home had been laid out neatly, to my pleasant surprise. I sat up and yawned, stretching my arms over my head, then paused. My hands were covered in thick bandage, and upon further inspection, I found that my nails had been tampered with. They were dirty and worn before, now filed and clean. I pulled on a bandage, attempting to unravel it.

Luke walked in, frowning. "I wouldn't do that, they'll start to bleed again." His face was hard and fierce, almost scared.

"What happened to my hands?" I asked, placing them back on the bed.

"You scratched them climbing in that skylight remember?"

I didn't remember. I nodded slowly, and stared back at them. "Sure. You can go now."

He left the room reluctantly, leaving me alone and confused. I was wearing a robe, which meant they had changed my clothing. Something weird was going on. I tried to think, adjusting my sitting position to stare out of the window. Then, apprehensively, I pressed the home button on my iPod, and grit my teeth at what I saw. Provided I had been held in the cell for three days, which by my calculations, I had, there was a day missing from my memory. The deja vu I received upon entering the kitchen and living room confirmed my suspicions. They had taken a day from my head.

Swearing under my breath, I tore the bandages off, to find a messy 'L' scratched into my skin. L for what? Luck, Late, Look, Luke? It was a capital letter, for a name. Luke. What had Luke done that made them have to pick from my mind a day of my existence?

I walked into his room, fists clenched. He lay, looking relaxed, reading topless on his bed. I coughed, causing him to glance up, seemingly unsurprised at my hands, before returning to his reading.

"I need to see Jason," I spat, "Now."

He picked up a phone and typed in a text, putting his book aside.

"He's on his way Cleo, you okay?" He feigned a calm posture, but his muscles were tensed, and his eyes watched my every move analytically.

I put on my best fake smile and looked him in the eyes. "I'm doing great Luke really. Really getting a kick out of this whole being kidnapped situation. Love it."

He laughed, but it didn't meet his eyes, I hadn't convinced him.

Jason burst in a minute later, his entire face a picture of worry. "What's wrong?"

I kept my eyes on Luke, "Nothing Jason, everything's fine. You should check on Luke though, he seems on edge."

Luke smirked subtly, in a kind of tortured way. I gave up trying to read him, and grabbed Jason's wrist, pulling him into my room.

"What the fuck has Luke done?" I hissed, looking intensely at Jason.

"What do you mean?" His poker face was pitiful, as he picked at his nails on the bed.

"Oh come on, Luke's done something, and it's obvious, I've written it on my hand for fucks sake. Either you tell me now, or I'll find out for myself and then kill you for keeping it from me." I swallowed, trying to slow my brain down, but adrenaline and anger were coursing through me, and until I had an answer I couldn't relax.

He gulped. "Cleo it's against every rule ever to tell you, I would get fired in a second. You'll have to figure it out for yourself. But people sometimes write gossip on the toilet block walls. I don't know if there will be anything, but look there."

He seemed like he did know that something would be there, but didn't want to admit it.

I nodded, thanking him silently, before moving back to Luke's room.

"Our toilet isn't working, and I need to go. I'm going to go and find another. Do you need to come?" I asked him.

"I'm sure it is working Cle." He said, eyeing me.

"Well you can ask Jason but it isn't, and in the meantime I'm kind of desperate, so can I go?" I gave him a pathetic look and danced around on my feet a bit to fake urgency.

"Go, go." He said, reluctantly. "No hoodies."

The closest toilet block was next to a gym, and seemed to be the least maintained part of the entire campus. I approached it with disgust, holding my breath for as long as possible as to not breathe in the smell of stale urine and cheap disinfectant. Pushing into stalls, I skim read all of the graffiti, from confessions of love, to threats, finding nothing. I reached the second to last cubicle, and had almost given up hope, until I saw a tiny scribble in the corner.

"L is for Liar. Photo booth."

It was cryptic to say the least. Who would have written that? I thought it over in my head. Jason had already admitted L was for Luke, so I guess that makes Luke the liar, and the link in my head between photo booths and my parents' dying was already obvious, which lead me to one conclusion. A sickening conclusion to say the least.

Luke killed my parents.

Which only led to one logical action, I had to kill him.