Devious Things (The In-Between Trilogy Book One)

4.

     Sometimes I find myself staring at my own reflection for long periods of time. Now, I don't do it because I am secretly a narcissist who is in love with their own face because I save that shit for Jeremiah. I do it because I am convinced that, if I stare hard enough, I might be able to find a hint of human life behind my thick, pale skin. 

       I am always left wanting. 

      The tireless flight home has done nothing to soften my always harsh appearance, making me look even more strung out than I feel. 

     My hair is an absolute wreck, the ginger locks matting together as they fall over my shoulders and across my chest. The kohl eyeliner I applied days ago is now smudged, drawing far too much attention to my tired green eyes. 

      I look like one of those heroin-chic models from the mid-nineties; all long limbs, soft curves and in desperate need of a good night's sleep. 

      It hasn't even been six hours since I returned to this hellish place and I am already debating throwing myself out the window. 

      Seriously, I am wondering if the eight-story fall would kill me. 

     Probably not. 

      More than likely I would come to a few hours later with a horrid migraine and a clause added to my contract stating 'no suicide attempts' while working for the DSA.

     Christ on a cronut, nothing about this place ever changes, does it? Even the room smells the same; like cinnamon with underlying hints of depression and self-loathing. 

    I drag my hand along the paisley wallpaper, curing the designer they hired while building this place. It is obvious that they were not human because only something supernatural would be able to pick out a color scheme as horrendous as the one this place has going on in it.

      The sound of tedious agents shuffling about the halls drifts through the wall and I glower, already missing my peace. My apartment might have been small and reeked of mold but it was quiet there. 

     I think the founders of the DSA secretly got off on torturing their agents because there is no other explanation for why they chose to shove all of their employees in the same building and then place that very building behind the office they are forced to work out of. 

      They said it was because DSA employees must be ready for spur of the moment emergencies but I think the whole thing is poorly thought out. All it would take is one to five well-place bombs and BAM! bye bye DSA. 

     "You look like absolute shit," Jeremiah comments as he lets himself and Peter into my room without knocking. 

      The two approach me slowly and I realize that, while their poker faces are immaculate, they both still consider me a threat. 

      The thought makes me smile. 

       "Coming from you, I am going to take that as a compliment." I motion to the small space between them. "So, are you two officially a couple now? Or is someone paying Peter to follow you around like a little bitch?"

      Peter takes a threatening step towards me. "I'll show you a little bitch."

      "I bet the hell you will," I taunt. "But let's not forget what happened last time, okay? I would hate to have to damage that pretty face of yours twice." 

      "Knock it off you two," Jeremiah orders, pointing to the large stack of papers on my bed. "Those signed yet?"

     "They are and I took the liberty of making a copy of them as well. Make sure to tell your boss that, just in case he decides to try screwing me over by adding something else in there before they are filed. I also expect you to bring me an additional copy once the contract has been notarized."