The Saint Jones [Completed]

chapter 68: Horrible Idea

"How gross!" Justin whines and pretends to be throwing up as he tries to digest what I just told him.

"We have to look around," I say as my eyes wander around the room to find the camera, I know there is one somewhere, and whoever put it here wanted to have an eye on me since day one.

I take off my shoes and mount on my bed. I examine the lines up there, at the electric wires that are against the wall and that are painted the same chalk colour. My fingers touch the surface, making sure that nothing is bizarre up there, but I find nothing else than the wires. I get down the bed and try somewhere else.

"How was the angle when you saw the video?"

"I can't remember much," I really can't remember, I was tremendously shocked and absorbed in my thoughts that details weren't counting.

I move to the other side of my bed, where my nightstand is. I climb on the dark wooden nightstand, making sure that it's not going to break because of my weight on it, and I tap up there with my palms. Still, I find nothing interesting. I leap down the nightstand, scrubbing my face steadily.

"Man, I think I've found it!"

I rush to where Justin is standing in the corner of the room, between my wardrobe and the wall. He points up towards the ceiling, in the far corner, where light isn't making its way, and surely, there's a little black device which has a form of a square.

"How did they put it here?"

"I have no clue."

"Man, they were monitoring you all this time. They saw everything, they saw me in my boxers!"

"Justin, your boxers aren't that important. What's important is getting rid of this."

I look around me to find something sharp or heavy enough to break the camera. Justin sighs and pushes the wardrobe away from the corner, to give us enough space to execute this sudden plan. On the spot, I remember an object which can help us out of here.

I open my wardrobe and at the bottom I discover a decoration that my mother sent me last Christmas. It is a bottle sculpted with fine and sharp woods from Indonesia. Apparently it can make a fall from five meters and it won't break.

Justin leers at me with confusion, but I walk past him and look back up at the thing.

"You help me?"

"How?"

I grab his hands, place them in front of him, give him a heavy tap on the shoulder and shuffle his hair, "you'll help me up. Put your whole strength in your arms."

"This is a bad idea, you'll fall down and break a bone... I can't do that."

"Justin."

"Justin what? How am I supposed to hold you? You weight tones, Seth!"

"Just help me up and I'll hold on the wardrobe, you won't feel the weight," he looks at me with fear in his eyes, then he nods reluctantly.

With a bit of difficulty, I climb on his hands and once I'm up enough, I grab the wardrobe and put my strength on it because I can feel Justin's arms trembling and his slow whimpers. I waste no time and hit the black camera with the wooden decoration. One, two, three and finally, the thing snatched away from the wall and falls down.

He helps me down and I look at the thing. How the hell did they came here, in my room, without my consentement? Was it that important for them to monitor me? How can them, he, tore off the privacy of a man, of a worker that easily? This is disgusting and tiring. I push the object with my foot, almost step on it, but Justin's voice halts me.