Society Dysfunctional

4. Breaking Every Rule

Chapter Four – Breaking Every Rule

Noah

I don’t understand the concept of faith. Or love. But I do pretend I understand everything. Including myself.

Including what happened the night Eddy had died.

Everyone hated Eddy O’Doherty. He strutted into Samuelson’s acting like he owned the place—well, he kind of did, since his parents are generous sponsors. The adults turned a blind eye whenever he started trouble because they were too scared of his family and we were jealous. We couldn’t even beat the crap out of him because of his condition.

I kind of hate saying this now, but Eddy and I were … friends. Eight years ago, when the government car had kicked us out of the backseats and onto the gravel with only a small bag containing all our belongings, Eddy was the first person to greet us. He seemed normal at the time, and that was what made me think that my time here would be okay.

Mistake.

Okay, when I say Eddy and I were friends, I mean that he thought we were friends. I was just being nice to him to, well, do what I do best: take advantage of people. What else was a poor boy like me to do? Ed was loaded with money, and I figured taking a chunk out of his allowance wouldn’t drain his parents’ savings by that much.

Alright, maybe I took around half of his allowance every month. Sneaking into his room and just snatching away a few bills. Thievery, you might say, but if anyone else had found out it would have been deemed justice. And anyway, I haven’t spent it yet. There is nowhere to spend it on anyway.

So, yeah, I have a huge stash of money just lying under my mattress. Last time I counted in my little book, I had six thousand five hundred and eighty six dollars. All saved up for my great escape, an escape I had planned by myself the very first time Ed had laid the first pile of bills into my hands. But I grew careless. I grew selfish.

Another big mistake.

They come for me at night.

I’m not sleeping anyway. I toss and turn fitfully in my four-poster, trying to lull myself to sleep with the sounds of my roommate’s peaceful snoring. I go on my back and stare upwards, counting sheep. Still my eyelids refuse to turn heavy.

Footsteps in the hall. I turn again, reaching for my phone on the desk and opening it. The bright light makes my eyes sting, but only briefly and I blink out the white lights behind my eyelids to study the numbers on the top center of the screen. Two-thirty a.m. Who the hell stays up at such an ungodly hour to walk up and down the corridor?

However, my annoyance is replaced with a sharp panic that breaks my fatigue—the sort of fatigue that isn’t enough to let you fall asleep—and I place my phone back onto the table, tossing the twisted covers over me and shutting my eyes to feign sleep in case they come in. What do they want now? It must have something to do with Eddy. It has to be. It’s been nearly a week and things have been far too quiet for my liking.

Knock, knock. And then our entire room explodes into a sudden light.

“The fuck…” My roommate, Juan something, mumbles, sitting up suddenly and rubbing his eyes. I feel blinded too, blinking fast before turning and facing the wall again as if to avert the glare of the lights above us. The footsteps come into our room. When I turn around, squinting, and see a pair of Armani loafers step purposefully into the large gap between our beds, I curse silently. Shit, I was right. It’s Mr. Lincoln. “Jesus!”

As if to confirm it, I hear him chuckle to himself. “Unfortunately, He isn’t here today. Judgment Day still has yet to arrive … for you, at least, mister Alves.” I stiffen at his words. They’re not here for Juan so it’s me. Process of elimination. “We would just like to bring your roommate mister Ivanov out for a … brief questioning, if you don’t mind. You can go back to sleep.”