The Loudest Silence

Mason

The smile dropped from my face the second I turned my back from the leery girl that stood apprehensively a few feet from me.

It was her.

I was undoubtedly sure that she was the one who I would be keeping a watchful eye on.

I'd be foolish not to recognize the deep brown eyes that were wide upon looking at me. The tense body language and the lack eye contact screamed that this girl was the beholder of many secrets.

Despite her bland clothing which consisted of a worn out sweater, loose jeans, and a pair of battered sneakers, all the arrows pointed straight to her.

She was the infamous Isabella Wright.

Daughter of drug lord, and felon, Rick Wright.

I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion at her behavior as I strode across the vast campus. For someone who is related to a criminal suspected of severe crimes, she appears to seem the exact opposite of someone like her father.

Her standoffish and reserved attitude slightly baffled me, but after working in the industry that dealt with all sorts of sociopaths and criminals that had committed unspeakable crimes, I knew better.

Looks are deceiving.

The one way to surely scout a potential threat is looking beyond the exterior layer.

Studying body language had the ability to provide more information than imagined.

Though her fidgeting language had caught my eye, one major thing that had stood out to me was her eyes.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul, yet hers resembled an abyss of emptiness. 

Her eyes bore a distant look. One that told you that she was long gone from the real world, detached from the universe itself.

Despite my urge to continue studying her face, her dark locks curtained across her face, serving as a sheild from my hard gaze. 

 I ushered past heaps of students that lurked in every corner before my steps slowed to a steady pace as I approached the familiar brick building.

As I opened the glass door, a group of giggling girls filed out, bright smiles marring each of their faces.

Expressions that were the complete opposite of my own.

Stepping into the stuffy office, my eyes roamed around a few stray students that lazily stood around the office, no doubt trying to settle any last minute arrangements.

Craning my neck upward, I saw the frame of Mrs. Harris who stood behind the large front desk having a conversation with a teenage girl. 

As I looked in her direction, she caught my gaze and moved her head towards the direction where her office was. Nodding in response, I pushed past the mini door blocking entry into the office area and made my way towards her room.

Upon entering, I was engulfed by the scent of cinnamon and apples. 

A sense of De ja vu consumed me as I took a seat in front of the mahogany desk. As I waited, the scent of cinnamon and apple continuously invaded my senses, invoking all sorts of memories and emotions.