Page 24 of Break You

Prinnie: This is almost too close to the bone to be funny. What if it’s someone waiting to hack you to pieces?

Me: Then at least I’ll go out with a wad of cash to pay for my funeral.

Prinnie: Stop!

Me: It’s true! Anyway, GTG. I have lectures, then I need to get ready to be hacked to death. LY.

Prinnie: LYT. Don’t get killed. I have nothing to wear to a funeral, except my waitressing uniform, and that’s fugly! Text me when you get there to let me know everything’s okay. You’re getting there at 7.30?”

Me: Yup.

Prinnie: Okay, so if I don’t hear from you by 8.30, I’m sending a search party.

Me: Don’t be dramatic.

Prinnie: I’m not. We don’t know what you’re getting into.

I was still looking at the handset, and laughing to myself, when I became aware of being watched. I looked up slowly to find Xavier Cross standing on the opposite side of the corridor, leaning on the wall. His lips were pressed together—half smirk, half grin.

“What?” My tone was sharp enough to cut steel.

“What, what?” His attitude matched mine, but his body language remained relaxed. At least, that’s what he wanted me to believe.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” I crossed my arms. I wanted him to know I was anything but relaxed.

“I believe that would be you.”

“Why?”

“Last I knew, it was a free country, so the question becomes why not?”

“Because it’s skeevy as fuck, that’s why. How come everywhere I turn these days, there you are, being a creeper?”

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself. In case you hadn’t noticed, we exist in the same tiny bubble. This town. This college. The same social psych class. It’s actually pretty hard to avoid people, even when you want to. And believe me, I want to avoid you—like the worst plague. Yet here we are, six degrees of separation, and all that.” He shrugged nonchalantly. The gesture made me want to punch his lights out. Instead, I walked away, not bothering to respond.

* * *

As I approached the Swan Club, a strange feeling washed over me. It was somewhere between excitement and fear, with a little foreboding thrown in for good measure. As I got closer to the mock-gothic building, taking in the ugly faux-period details and the darkened windows that gave it a sinister air, my gut was telling me to walk the other way. I normally followed my instincts, but the promise of one thousand dollars overrode them every step of the way.

I lingered on the doorstep a little, contemplating my next move. When the door swished open before I’d had the chance to reach out for the heavy brass knocker, I was telling myself to run in the opposite direction as fast as my legs would carry me. But still, I bit the bullet, took a deep breath, and stepped across the threshold, noting the gloomy darkness and still, quiet air.

It was like the clichéd scene from every cheesy horror movie ever made, where the audience screamed at the heroine not to be a dumb fuck, and walk directly toward obvious danger. The part where I’d usually cross my arms and roll my eyes, then complain about the hackneyed portrayal of the doe-eyed female, and mutter under my breath that nobody was that stupid, and that anyone with half a brain cell would get the fuck out of there while they still could.

Turned out I was wrong, because despite years of vicarious experience of this exact scenario, for one thousand dollars, I was that stupid. More so, maybe. Because even as the thought crossed my mind, I was propelled further forward into the hall. The door closed behind me with a heavy thud.

“Hello? Is there anybody here?” My voice sounded feeble even to my own ears. I was a caricature, and I hated myself for it.

At the sound of a lock clinking, I spun toward the door again, and a harsh scream tore from my lips. In front of the door stood a menacing figure, shrouded in black velvet apart from an Anonymous mask, illuminated somehow under the shade of the black hood.

Rocky

I took a few hurried steps backward, and turned again, now with my back to the door and the masked figure. I let out another scream as the lights went out, and the hall was submerged in darkness. I blinked furiously, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and when they did, a sea of cloaked, masked figures came into view. I was surrounded. Bile rose in my mouth, and my heart beat almost out of my chest, as the realization sank in that I was in trouble. Real trouble.

Velvet-clad hands reached out, grabbing my phone and bag. Damn.

In an effort to protect myself, I’d lined up an emergency call, ready to connect it if the situation was weird. It was, but with the shock of the masked figures, I hadn’t had a chance to make the call, and now I probably never would.

“What’s going on? What is this?” I stood stock still, head held high. If I was going out, I wanted to do it with dignity and grace.

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