LIFE GOES ON…TO an extent.
The following week at college is less hectic than the previous one.
It’s almost…normal, or at least what can be called normal for someone who remembers nothing about her life.
My memories are still stuck playing hide and seek.
I asked Alex if I could move back to my apartment downtown. It’s not that I hate the company. I really like Izzy and Jason and the Scrabble nights we’ve had together.
However, I thought going back to the place I lived in for three years might bring back some of my memories.
And yes, I might’ve wanted to escape Asher. I’ve been feeling like shit after finding out about his sister’s death and that I cheated on him.
Not that he didn’t likely fuck countless girls in England, but still. I hate having the cheater tag on me.
It’s such a disturbing, ugly place to be.
Alex, however, denied my request. He diplomatically refused, saying there’s still danger on my safety from that break-in and that I need further rest.
Later that day, I found out from Izzy we had a visit from Detective Daniels. He demanded to speak to me or have me volunteer for questioning. Alex shooed him away, threatening to file a restraining order if he comes to trouble me again.
According to Izzy, I’m lucky to have Alex with me, not against me. Apparently, he’s a notoriously ruthless lawyer.
Maybe it’s because of that I’m not so scared about the mafia threat. It might also have to do with the fact that the black van didn’t show up again.
I sit in Lucy’s car as she drives toward campus. Her purple MINI Cooper stands out in the parking lot like a cute balloon.
I have a white Lexus back at home, but I’m not confident enough to drive it yet.
Bree has been salty because I chose Lucy to be my ride instead of her. Truth be told, I’m more comfortable with Lucy’s non-bitchy character.
True, I was a worse bitch than Bree, but that Reina is gone and will never return.
The first step of redemption: not surrounding myself with demons from my past.
As we exit her car, Lucy shows me an Instagram picture of a few football players drinking in secret. It’s on some account called blackwood-black-book.
“Who’s awful enough to post those pictures?” I ask. “Won’t that ruin their chances to be drafted into the NFL?”
“Could be.” Lucy raises her shoulders. “Blackwood Black Book is all about scandal, though.”
And it seems to be working based on the thousands of followers it’s gained.
“Who runs it?” I ask.
“No one knows.” She laughs. “It’s like a Gossip Girl of sorts.”
I stop, the thought of another very suspicious account barging into my mind. I hold out my hand to Lucy. “Let me see.”
After she gives me the phone, I click on the account’s followers and type Cloud003. Sure enough, he’s there.
Motherfucker.
This should mean he’s a student at Blackwood College—or close enough. Does that mean he was the one who bound me that night? But if he were, why would he warn me afterward?
“What’s wrong?” Lucy leans in to peek.
I quickly wipe the search history then return her phone. “Hey, Luce?”
She grins, her prominent cheeks lifting with the motion.
“What?” I eye her closely.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you calling me Luce.” She walks beside me. “What is it?”
I clear my throat. “We’ve been on the same squad for three years, and you even know me from high school, right?”
“Right.”
“During all that time, did I ever talk about…I don’t know, a love interest or something like that?”
She hums, tapping her chin. “You never talk about your love interests.”
“Not even about Asher?”
“No.” She doesn’t even stop to think about it. “You’re a private person, Reina. None of us actually knows what goes on in your life, except for maybe Bree.”
Well, shit. I had hoped it wouldn’t come down to talking to her, but I probably have to bite the bullet and do it. If she has any idea about this Cloud003 asshole, I need to know.
Still, there’s something else I have to confirm with Lucy.
“Did Asher come back during Halloween parties?” I ask carefully. There’s a slight chance he’s Cloud003.
“Two years ago, yes. Last year, no.”
“He could’ve come over without you seeing him.” From what I understand, I always met this Cloud003 person in disguise.
“He celebrated Halloween with his friends in England last year. Hang on.” She retrieves her phone and scrolls through someone’s Instagram. Then she shows me a picture of Asher wrapping an arm around a guy with intimidating gray eyes. A blonde girl snuggles in his lap. Three other guys and girls stand behind them, some smiling and others in Halloween costumes.
Sure enough, the date of the picture is the night before Halloween. The caption reads, ‘Remember kids, no Halloween is scarier than real people.’
Interesting.
“Whose account is this?” I ask Lucy.
She taps the face of the guy with gray eyes. “Aiden King. He’s like Asher’s closest friend in England. He’s so dreamy. Not that I’m stalking him or anything.” She sighs. “Pity he’s married. I swear all the good ones are.”
I wonder why he got married so young.
But anyway, this picture erases the slight suspicion that Asher is Cloud003.
A petite figure brushes past us like a wrecking ball.
“Move, Queen Bitch and follower.” Naomi throws her usual remark at me.
Lucy stops talking abruptly, her mouth hanging at an awkward angle.
I step in front of Naomi, blocking her path. “That’s enough.”
With our height difference, she has to look up at me, but that doesn’t erase the malice in her rich brown eyes. “What? No fake apologies this time?”
“If you thought that apology was fake then suit yourself, Naomi.” I cross my arms over my chest. “As much as you like calling us bitches, you’re no different. Lucy has done nothing wrong and doesn’t deserve all these attacks.”
“It’s okay.” Lucy touches my arm, bowing her head.
“It’s not.” I push her in front of Naomi. “If you were Lucy’s best friend, you would know how much your treatment hurts her.”
“What do you know about hurt?” Naomi’s voice is calm considering the seething expression on her face. “What do you know about suffering when you’re all high and mighty?”
“Just stop, Nao,” Lucy pleads, voice choking. “This isn’t you.”
“Yes, it is. You were just too busy following orders to notice it.”
A black Tesla stops right beside us with a screech. Naomi tenses and attempts to dash toward campus. The driver’s door opens, blocking her escape route.
Sebastian steps out, looking dashing in his football jacket, a messenger bag slung over his shoulders.
“Move out of the way, asshole.” She tries to bypass him but doesn’t raise her head.
“Was that a bee buzzing?” He strains his neck with mockery, not looking at her either.
“Move before I sting you.” Her face heats with exertion.
“That would involve you getting near me, and we both know that’s not going to happen, tsundere.”
Naomi’s face reddens. I can feel her rage coming off in waves. Her mouth opens and closes as if she wants to say something, but no words come out.
“Stop it.” I pull Sebastian by the sleeve of his jacket.
Naomi takes the chance to jog toward the school building.
“You can run but you can’t hide, tsundere,” he calls after her.
“What does that mean?” I ask him.
He stares down at me as if just noticing my existence. “Since when do you care?”
Ugh. Okay, I get it. I was an uncaring, selfish little shit. But come on, why can’t everyone stop shoving it in my face? Iʼm really trying here.
“Reina has changed.” Lucy steps beside me, puffing her chest forward.
Thank you, Santa, for sending me a gift wrapped in the form of Lucy. Oh, and screw you, Old Reina, for not appreciating this girl.
Sebastian watches me in that suspicious way that’s become everyone’s MO around me.
The intrusiveness of his gaze reminds me of Asher and the death glares he’s been giving me lately.
No matter how much I try to avoid his existence, a part of me always gravitates toward him.
“Prove it,” Sebastian says firmly.
“Prove what?” I ask.
“That you’ve changed.”
I’m tempted to flip him off, but that’s not how redemption works. The best way to prove oneself is to give, not take, which means I have to focus on Sebastian’s weaknesses and make them better.
My mind works around what I’ve learned about Sebastian so far—which isn’t much. Since he’s Asher’s friend, getting close to him means circulating in Asher’s orbit.
No, thanks.
But, oh well—if what I have in my mind works then it’s worth a shot.
I raise an eyebrow. “Youʼre failing psychology.”
“What does that have to do with proving you’ve changed?”
“If you fail this semester, the coach will bench you and you might lose your chance to go pro.”
His jaw works. “If there’s a point behind all this, you should reach it now.”
“I will help you nail psychology.”
Not only am I the captain of the cheerleading team, but I’m also a straight-A student. Studying makes way more sense to me than the black and white cheerleading uniform I still haven’t mustered the courage to wear.
“You lost your memory,” he argues.
“I still got a perfect score on the practice test last week.” I lift my shoulder. “I guess genius can’t be wiped away, huh?”
Lucy smiles, shouting, “Hell yeah! She’s an amazing tutor, by the way. She helped me ace Debate the other day.”
“Thank you.” I face Sebastian. “So what’s it gonna be? My offer has an expiration date in about…” I stare at my watch. “Ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven—”
“Fine. Jesus, it’s like you had a personality transplant.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Lucy, Sebastian, and I part ways inside since we have different classes.
I say good morning to anyone who greets me, and much to my dismay, it still shocks some students, as if something holy has landed in town.
My next class is Sociology. When I walk in, no one is inside. It’s only empty chairs and a screen. I turn around, searching for any human presence.
Was it canceled?
I really need to start checking the college’s website more frequently.
“Is anyone here?” When no one replies, I head for the exit.
The door hisses shut in my face. I try the intercom, but there’s no response.
What the hell?
I grip the handle and pull. Nothing. It’s like it’s made of steel.
“Come on, open—”
The lights go out. The entire room gets swallowed in punishing darkness.
My heartbeat picks up as I lose an essential sense—sight.
“Hello?” I hate how my voice trembles on the word. “This isn’t funny.”
I thrust my hand into my bag, fishing for my phone.
A bang sounds on the wall.
I flinch and my phone drops to the ground. The unmistakable crack of the screen echoes in the air.
“Shit.” I crouch, my hands feeling around blindly.
Light bursts into the projector like an old movie. It shines onto the opposite wall.
I gasp, freezing in my crouched position.
Black words in a bloody font flash on the white walls. They pass so fast as if planning to give me epilepsy. I’m about to close my eyes when the words start registering.
I. Am. Coming. For. You. I. Know. What. You. Did. Blood. On. Your. Hands. Murderer. Murderer. MURDERER.
I cover my mouth with both of my hands as the words repeat on a loop.
No.
This is some sort of a sick joke.
I stumble backward, my heel catching on the ground. I nearly fall, but I pull myself together and slam my palms on the door.
“Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Someone help!”
I hit the door harder and faster until my palms sting and tears well in my eyes.
A ping sounds from near the projector.
I jerk, my hands turning sweaty. Perspiration slides down my temples and my neck and all the way underneath my clothes.
The lights continue flashing and flashing and fucking flashing.
I place both hands on my ears and slide to the floor.
“No, Mommy, no…don’t go…” A sob tears from my throat. “Mom…Rei…”
Darkness grips me by the throat before they can come for me.
