Page 23 of Hide and Seek
But the strangest part was how both of us were hard when I watched him run away.
6
MYLES
A strange sensationhits me the moment I step into my room.
Everything looks exactly like it did when I left this morning, but itfeelsdifferent. Like there’s the lingering ghost of someone else’s presence.
It’s the same feeling I get after the cleaning staff comes through the dorms or someone drops off my laundry, but it’s not my day on the cleaning roster, and I haven’t done laundry in over a week. There’s no conceivable reason any of the staff would come into my room today.
My gaze is drawn to my computer, and that uneasy feeling intensifies.
Like the rest of my room, everything is exactly where I left it, and there are no signs that anything has been messed with, but I can’t shake the feeling that someone was here.
Turning away from my desk, I walk to the window and scan the line of trees.
It’s strange, but that feeling of being watched isn’t coming from outside this time. It feels like whoever was out there is somehow in my room with me. But that’s crazy, unless they’re hiding under my bed or in my closet.
My heart speeds up as my brain conjures up an image of that hooded figure I’ve spent way too much time thinking about hiding under my bed, then another of that same figure pressed against the back of my closet and hiding among my clothes.
The thought of some random guy in my room should terrify me, but that’s not why my heart is racing, or why my gaze flicks to my bed and a little pulse of heat radiates from my chest.
I’d be completely helpless if there were someone in here. The room next to mine is empty, and so are the ones next to and across from it. I do have an across-the-hall neighbor, but he’s almost never home. And when he is, he blasts music until all hours of the morning and wouldn’t hear a bomb go off.
Shaking off those thoughts, I crouch down and peer under my bed. Naturally, there’s nothing there, and even though I know I’ll find more of the same, I still hurry over to my closet and look inside.
It’s empty, but I don’t feel any better as I close the door and head back over to my desk.
I’ve never been the type who has good instincts or has a sixth sense about bad things that are happening or about to happen. I’m also not great when I’m under pressure and have a tendency to flail and freak out when shit goes sideways.
My lack of instincts has gotten me in trouble before, and it’s the reason I had to come to this damn school and why my parents freak out when they can’t immediately track me down and get a hold of me.
Is this feeling real and I’m actually picking up a disturbance in the force? Or am I still freaking out about what happened when I was on my run and now I’m seeing boogeymen at every turn?
I practically collapse onto my desk chair, shoulders sagging, and let my head fall against the plush headrest.
I haven’t slept well the past few nights, or really at all. I already have a pretty fucked-up sleep schedule, staying up way too late and getting up way too early, so the lack of sleep is getting to me.
Wearily, I lift my head and flash my computer up.
I don’t know why, but I’ve been putting off looking into those guys who attacked me while I was on my run. The school has its own LEOs, and they do basic investigations and write reports on all the hinky stuff that goes down on campus. They just don’t do anything about it unless they’re told to.
I’ve never had to deal with the aftermath of beating up three guys and stabbing one of them, but I imagine it’s not something that would go unnoticed. The school doctor and the rest of the medical staff would have to report it, but that doesn’t mean they actually have to do anything about it. At Silvercrest, that depends on who’s involved and why it happened.
I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours waiting for campus LEOs to show up and drag me down to the station or their headquarters or wherever they take people to question me about what happened. I’ve also spent the last two days deciding what I’d tell them.
I have no issues lying to the police or anyone else in a position of authority, and I’m not so naive to believe that they’re here for us and that I can trust them to do anything to help me. I was taught that respect is earned and no one should ever have your blind allegiance.
It kinda sucks that my “Eat the Rich” and “Fuck Capitalism” parents did a complete about-face when they got rich and now worship at the altar of capitalism and wealth hoarding, but that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my opinions on any of the stuff they taught me.
The part that really sucks is that my brother and sister were too young when our dad sold his software company to reallyinternalize the messaging we heard growing up. Now they’re just as bad as every other rich kid asshole who thinks the world owes them just for existing.
That’s another reason I feel so disconnected from my family, and why being around them isn’t all that great anymore. Instead of making jokes about bringing back guillotines and talking about the dangers of overconsumption and end-stage capitalism, my family isn’t just trying to keep up with the Joneses; they’re doing everything they can tobethe Joneses.
I may have only been part of this world for a few years now, but I’ve seen enough to know that not only is it a world I don’t want any part of, I can’t trust anyone who’s in it because there’s no such thing as loyalty or honor if it doesn’t serve a selfish purpose.
Which is another reason my hooded savior is so damn confusing.
