I inspect Sophia’s calm face, completely zoned in. It’s like I’m seeing her for the first time, aware of how much I don’t know about her. What she’s capable of. And how well she knows this school, like … where the cameras are located and how to access them.
Something rattles in a drawer. I open it to find a phone, the screen lit with an incoming text.
The bubble on the lock screen reads: How is she? The sender is coded as P.
I tap on the bubble, but it asks for a password. I set the phone back in the drawer and stare at it like it might bite me.
“Are there any files on that laptop?” I ask, shutting the drawer.
“Huh?” Sophia’s eyes remain glued to the screen while her fingers fly across the keyboard. They suddenly stop. “Bastard.”
“Can you look for files? Videos on me or a girl named Allie?” I request a little louder to get her attention.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” She types and clicks on a few things. “There’s files on all of us, even … me. What the …” She clears her throat. “Which one do you want to look at first? They’re protected, but I should be able to open them.”
I point to the first file in the top-left corner. “Allison Pixley.” A fire blazes under my skin when I see the endless rows of file icons that fill the screen. Each with a different name. “Holy shit.”
After what feels like an eternity of Sophia muttering under her breath while her fingers move in a blur, as if on their own, she declares, “Got it.”
She slides the laptop over, so I can view the folder’s contents. At a glance, it appears to be a police report, hospital records and … a video.
“Play the video for me.” I prepare myself, but I’m not truly ready for any of this.
Sophia expands the video, so it fills the entire screen. It’s a still image of a stairwell. The camera is positioned in a corner, angled to focus on the stairs and a door with Exit above it. She presses play before I can change my mind. Or ask her not to watch.
The door opens, and I step through. The image is grainy, but it’s evident I’m annoyed. I turn back toward the door to open it again. Before I can, a guy in a leather jacket grabs me from behind. His face isn’t visible, but the hideous tattoo of a dragon on his shaved head makes him easily identifiable. He proceeds to shove me against the wall, my head colliding with the concrete. I can almost feel the pain, just watching it.
“Is that … you?” Sophia asks in shock.
I don’t respond.
I should shut it off. But I can’t.
There isn’t sound. But the image is horrific enough. And when Allie walks through the door and jumps on his back to defend me, I want to reach into the screen to stop her, to make her go find Seth, get away from this monster. But I know she doesn’t, and I brace myself, my body stiffening for what happens next.
By the time the video stops playing, I’m possessed with rage, barely able to restrain myself from smashing every monitor in the room. I shove away from the desk. Sophia’s eyes are reflective pools of horror, a hand covering her mouth like she’s trying to stuff the scream back down her throat.
“We really should go,” I choke out, shaking with the suppressed anger. I can’t be in this space any longer. It’s as violating as the pictures downstairs. Sneaking into our lives, watching our every move. My stomach sours in disgust.
Sophia closes the files. Clicks and types some more before wiping everything down like it’s a crime scene. She’s compartmentalized the horror, hiding it behind her neuroticism.
“What did you just do?”
“Edited the activity log, so he won’t know we were looking.”
I examine her like she’s the most fascinating person I’ve ever known. Because … she is. There’s so much about this uptight, adorable mess of a girl that she hides from the world behind her quirks and colorful pills. She is as much a mystery as Ashton was behind her mask of indifference. And maybe I should start paying more attention. Brendan always theorized that whoever is getting to me has access to tech and must be almost as good as he is. So unless he’s the culprit, which is still possible, I may be looking at the only other person at Blackwood who is as talented as Brendan. Someone who is supposed to be my friend.
“What?” Sophia asks when she finds me inspecting her like I’m trying to unveil the reality behind the illusion.
I just shake my head. I’m exhausted … all of me. My stomach hurts. And my head is spinning like I just stepped off the Tilt-A-Whirl.
I run a hand over my face. “Let’s go.”
“Oh no,” Sophia gasps, her focus behind me.
I turn and search the screens for whatever’s making her look like she’s about to start rocking in a corner. The campus is pretty quiet; there aren’t many people walking around. Which makes those who are moving easier to spot.
“Shit.”
Brendan progresses from frame to frame in the Court, nearing the guys’ dorm.
Sophia is already halfway down the ladder when I reach the top of it, switching off the monitors before I descend.
I stop when I realize I’m about to step on Sophia’s head. She’s frantically pushing against the back of the bookcase, but it won’t budge.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my pulse racing.
“I can’t”—she grunts, shoving with her entire body—“get it to open.”
“Let me try.”
She steps back to make room. There’s barely enough space for the two of us between the walls. I can feel her heavy breaths on the back of my head. I pat along the back of the bookcase, blindly searching for a lever or button or something.
Just as my fingers settle on the release, a door slams shut on the other side, and we plunge into darkness. Sophia must have clicked off the lights when she heard Brendan enter. Makes sense since we don’t want him to see the glow beneath the shelves, but it’s not helping my claustrophobia any.
I press my ear to the smooth wood as sweat prickles along my spine. I close my eyes to will the panic away and redirect my focus on listening.
“Where the fuck are you?” Brendan’s voice comes out booming and angry, even filtered through the layers of wood.
I don’t hear another voice.
He keeps talking. “What do you mean, don’t worry about it? Vic, you better not be anywhere near Blackwood. If you’re the one who drugged Ashton, I’ll fucking kill you. You know I will.”
A moment later, something thuds against the wall farther down from where we’re standing still as statues, barely breathing.
Vic. He was talking to Vic!
They know each other.
He was handsome and charming. Said the right words. Lied believable lies.
The door slams a minute—or year—later. I have no idea. I’m propped against the ladder, barely cognizant of where I am, forget about how much time has passed.
There was a moment earlier today when I thought I understood Brendan. Oh, how wrong I was. The more I learn, the less I know. And now … I don’t know anything.
The truth. The lies. The secrets. I’m buried beneath them all and can’t find my way out.
Sophia and I return to the dorm without a word. I can’t talk. The pieces of armor slide into place with each step, sealing me off—protecting me from the chaotic thoughts. Shutting out the anger and confusion. By the time I reach my room, I can’t feel a thing. And my thoughts are a low buzz in my head.