Page 119 of The Invite
All of it enrages me. The unfairness. Everyone is looking out for themselves and their comforts while squashing on the vulnerable to move ahead.
The thought of Anonymous getting away with this while continuing to wreak havoc on my life makes my blood boil.
I can’t just sit back and do nothing.
Didn’t I decide to not be a victim anymore? It’s time to work on it.
Going back into the room, I reach into my overnight bag and pull out a pair of black leggings and a matching hoodie. Donning the latter brings the image of Augustus wearing one on the first night he broke into my house to my mind. The casual yet striking way in which he sat on my bed like he owned it.
Shaking it off, I tiptoe out of the room and lock it behind me. I bypass Ace’s closed bedroom door, no signs of the light pouring from underneath. The entire apartment is silent.
Making as minimal noise as possible, I unlock the latch of the front door and sneak out of his apartment. I exhale a shaky breath once I’m safely out and strut to the elevator.
What I’m about to do is either a very brave idea or a very bad one. Quite possibly stupid too. Guess I’ll find out based on whether or not it goes sideways.
In the parking lot, I settle behind the driver’s seat and pull out onto the street. My gaze keeps flickering to the rearview mirror, making sure I’m not being followed. Anonymous must have a way of keeping an eye on me.
Déjà vu slams into me when I trek up the same hill. When the school comes into view, I find a secluded spot to park the car. I don’t want anybody to know I was here. It’s a surefire way to become a prime suspect.
After all, only a guilty person returns to the scene of the crime.
Ugh… what was I thinking? I should be making smarter choices.
Yet here I am late at night.
My sneakers don’t make a sound as I cover the rest of the distance on foot. There’s no sign of a guard, which isproblematic. If this is how lax security is around her, no wonder Amber became a victim.
Shouldn’t the cops be on guard here too?
I’m huffing slightly by the time I reach the entrance of the seniors’ building. Shouldn’t it be entirely taped off?
It seems careless that anybody can walk in and compromise the crime scene. Though it works in my favor.
After ensuring I’m alone, I step inside and walk down the corridor. My stomach is in knots, both with fear of being here again and getting caught trespassing at night. The closer I get to the classroom, the moreerratically my heart pumps.
Yellow tape barricades the door, looking harsh.
Without waiting, I nudge it open and it creaks loudly, making me wince. I frantically look over my shoulder and relax when nobody comes running, demanding that I raise my hands where they can see.
I need to be fast.
My petite shape easily allows me to bend and crawl underneath it to the other side. I release a short breath and swipe my sweaty palms against my leggings. When I gaze around the large room, except for Amber’s body, everything is exactly the same.
A grotesque picture of blood and gore.
The angry message written on the wall encompasses and dominates the room with its ominous energy. This type of violence is of a sick and demented madman. An atrocious soul.
I get chills just by standing here while shadows dance on the walls. My flight instincts areat the forefront. But I stay firm to the spot, summoning my entire inner strength.
Reaching into my hoodie’s pocket, I take out my phone and switch on the flashlight to read the ink-red message.
Strolling up the aisle, I reach the back of the class and aim the light upward. In angry slashes, it reads…
Confession #1
I, Amber Woods, am a fraud.
I don’t belong here. My older sister, Capri, does.
