Ford
I'VE BEEN GABRIELLA'S SHADOW FOR two days now.
She's typically alone, which, although it will make the game easier, it will also be less enjoyable. The main segment of the game is to isolate them from their loved ones. It's so much more fucking pleasurable to have them choose you over them—to witness the hurt marring the features of their loved ones when they utter the words aloud. The worst part is having them weepy at the understanding of losing their best friends and detaching themselves from their families, but that's usually when Bullet comes into play, knocking out the hysteria from their systems.
As I lean against the wall in a random corridor in college, my gaze firmly latches itself onto Gabriella. She's nestled near the opposite wall just a little way down the corridor, eyes glued to her phone as she scrolls idly through something. Her naturally downturned lips seem more prominent from my vantage point, but she's still naturally pretty. Sexy.
Perfect for the game.
As Jeremiah saddles up to me, Gabriella finally rises her gaze, glancing over her shoulder before checking out the vicinity in front of her. It takes a moment, but her eyes eventually connect with mine. She pauses, lips parted softly as we hold the eye contact. While she's still gazing at me, I indulge both of us by dipping my gaze, checking out her body in the tight skirt she's donning. When my eyes meet hers again, her cheeks are flushed with a gentle pink hue. She's the first to turn away, attention diverting back to her phone.
Two seconds later she's glancing up again, eyes fastening to mine. It will definitely play on her mind all day—my checking her out. I bet she's flattered. She fucking should be.
Jeremiah's silent, immediately identifying the signs of the early stages of the game. He waits patiently, shifting his weight from foot to foot beside me. When the trance is broken and I turn to him—I break the contact this time—he asks, "You seen Harris this morning?"
"Should I have done?" I retort, frustrated by the mere mention of Harris.
He shrugs, attitude utterly blasé. "Just said that he's got some announcement later; wanted us all to know. I think you're the last to know."
"Excellent." I roll my eyes. "I'm sure whatever Harris has to say will be fucking earth-shattering," I say, sarcasm weaved in my tone.
Jeremiah smirks. "It'll probably explain why he's been so fucking laidback for a while. You were there when he was just quietly sat on his phone in the lounge instead of berating both us and Jax, especially after the clusterfuck with Iesha."
Rolling my eyes again, I shunt my gaze back to Gabriella. She's still enthralled by whatever is exhibited on her damn phone—who uses their phone so fucking much? As I continue to license my eyes to linger on her, she doesn't glance up again. Fleetingly glimpsing back at Jeremiah, he furtively looks at Gabriella over his shoulder and shakes his head.
"Sure she's not got another guy on the other end of that thing?" he asks in reference to her frequent phone usage.
"Watched her for two days. Never seen her with anyone else that wasn't one of her professors."
Jeremiah nods once. "Westville's finding out about Iesha's death today. Cops are feeding it into the news. They're going to claim it was just a heart attack that's the cause of death. They're omitting the potassium chloride and Bullet, though people around here witnessed her bashing her skull against the wall. I'm sure they've all formed their own opinions, even if most of Westville is in the dark about Bullet."
I can still recall the morbid fascination that blanketed most watchers' faces as they gaped at Iesha as she slowly dented her forehead. No one offered to help her or even thwart any further infliction. They simply stared, transfixed, licensing that darker side of their minds to manipulate their decisions and take control temporarily. The difference between good and bad—we're all a combination of both. No one is wholly good, and likewise, no one is wholly bad. We just harbour disproportionate volumes of both, programming us to become more evil than good or vice versa.
