cocojosse - Tumblr blog

cocojosse · 5 years

Text

A short story

The end sucks, but it’s something.

It’s 7076 words, English is not my first language.

As silly as it might sound, I honestly thought that what I heard when speaking to people was them speaking to me, even if they half of the time they didn't move their lips. I thought it was normal and didn't question it when I heard people say the answers to their own questions, or when I saw people on the street holding hands and laughing but said out in the open that they would rather be anywhere else. I often asked what people meant with what they said and for the most part only got weird looks in response. Instead of understanding that what I could hear wasn't normal and stopped talking about it, I instead spoke my mind and questioned almost everything I heard.

When receiving gifts, when I was younger, I used to always guess what I believed to exist in the package. Of course, I was always correct no matter how much they tried to hide the content. I would also always win in rock, paper, scissors when playing it in kindergarten. In the end everyone started to just give me money on Christmas or as birthday present. Everyone in kindergarten also stopped trying to be my friend as I always speaked my mind and unknowingly spred others secrets around. I realized quickly that something was wrong with me but was too busy self-pitying myself to figure out what.

My father worked a lot and would often not be home until late at night after leaving early in the morning. My mother on the other hand started staying at home as soon as I was born, you would think that a mother should have noticed its own child's strange behavior, but I learned quickly that she was blinded by the thought of having a perfect child and brushed every weird act away. I could hear what people really thought about me and would, without explanation, distain myself when knowing I wasn't wanted. I grew self-conscious of how I acted, dressed and spoke. Even though I grew weary of my speech I still asked about the things I heard. My dad noticed my strange behavior and distanced himself from the family even more and either worked harsher hours or passed free time at bars. Whenever I was lucky enough to see my father, he was in an argument with mom. Mostly about how stressed he was from work and often whined about the smallest things, like how the food he warms up after coming home always was either too bland or too salty. The biggest reason to why they argued though was because of my weird actions, he understood what it was I could do and didn't feel safe in his own home and therefore tried to explain this to mom.

Just a week or so before my seventh birthday he left for another woman, stated how mom has grown to dense for comfort and that I was a monster he never wanted, at the same time exclaiming the impossibility of me being his daughter. When leaving, mom broke down by the doorstep and closed herself in her room, for weeks living as a ball of depression in her room with meals being delivered to her door, she finally stepped out of her cave. And for the first time in a long time saw my face. It was like a string in mom snapped and she quickly started blaming me for dad's disappearance. She no longer wanted to see me as the perfect daughter and instead searched for flaws around me that she could comment on. While searching she found my strange ability, she grew outraged finding the one thing that father always tried to explain was there and the biggest reason for his departure.

She started giving me rules to follow to be allowed in her home. I was no longer considered family. For me to not be able to spread her secrets I was not allowed to talk, to be allowed to eat I had to make the food, I had to do everything in my power to make myself the house ghost. Every time she saw me, she sneered, gave me a row of dirty looks and thought the worst things she could think of about me, knowing that I would hear and take it to heart, I wasn't worth her words. I spend most of my time in our library, mother didn't bother putting me in a school so until I could attend one, I took care of my education on my own. When mother was home, I obeyed every big or small rule she had for me, didn't speak, never looked her in the eye and cooked the best food I could because of the many cook books I studied. I did after all still love her and wanted her to be happy even if the thought wasn't mutual. Mother quickly started working again and worked just as long hours as father did, I barely saw her. She must have started to enjoy her work more or just wanted to be even further away from me, either way she started going on business trips for weeks at a time. After all the reason behind mother's fortune and big house wasn't because of her and fathers divorce but because of her own efforts as a business woman.

On my ninth birthday mother contacted me while being on a vacation in Dubai and asked me rather harshly if I have been studying, and even if originally not told to I told her that I have been spending most of my free time in the house library and should be on the same level as others my age in most subjects. Mother told me with a lack of interest that she had enrolled me in the school closest to her home. She gave me strict instructions on what kind of equipment I was supposed to buy and told me that I was supposed to start in about two weeks when summer break was over. Even if she forgot about it, I like to think that was my birthday present and had hope of her maybe still having gentle and loving feelings towards me.

Everything went on as usual except that the ghost of the house danced around laughing and singing to express her joy. I had always wanted to meet new people and liked to think that I had learned my lesson from kindergarten. I had under two weeks straight daydreamed about countless scenery's, different conversations and the kind of people I would meet. I set up a countless set of rules for how I should act and speak. I picked out the perfect outfit and studied extra hard for a couple of days just so mother wouldn't think of me as a disappointment.

The high hopes I had for my new beginning quickly crumbled when what first greeted me was scared and angry looks, I didn't understand that those who went to the town's kindergarten could have gone to the same school as me. So, I didn't have time to make a name out of myself with the new me, because others already had. I was supposed to go there from third grade to sixth, I knew mother wouldn't care about my situation, so my only option was to suffer through three years of hair pulling, name calling, pushing, things being thrown at me as well as my things being destroyed and, in some cases, punching and kicking. I hadn't even once out loud said a thing I heard someone think, most of them had no proof of what a few others were saying, even teachers just believed what children said about me being able to read other minds.

When I went through the last day of sixth grade, I was welcomed home to mothers' servants and maids packing the hole house away and when looking out the window I saw three moving trucks. One of the maids came to me and explained that my room was already packed and that I could wait out in the one of the cars. She must have seen my questioning expression because she then quickly explained that me and mother were moving to Scottsdale, Arizona and explained that mother was already there. While in the car on my way to the airport I remember doing some research on the town we were moving to and started getting a little worried when I saw six cases of kidnaping in the area but quickly pushed the thought away. I thought that this time, in a new state, new city, miles from my first ever home, I could maybe have a new start where no one knew who I was.

I ended up spending all my free time for summer brake looking around town, getting to know my surroundings. I found the town library and passed a lot of my time studying the towns history, I have for a long time been interested in geographic history but once again grew worried when looked at one of the TVs in the library that showed another case of a missing child. Because mother usually isn't home, I have and is still being raised by our house maids and was delighted when knowing that our staff moved with us.

And here I am in Scottsdale, Arizona's very own Mountainside Middle School, in one of thier classrooms for seven graders. They started school a week ago and because there were so many knew students except me, I wasn't as big of a mystery and I have been able to stay out of everyone's way. This school is already a lot better compered to my first one, everyone is a lot nicer and of what I can tell, bullying is extremely rare here. I met almost all the teachers except my math teacher who apparently have been sick for most of summer break and still felt a little sick a week after and stayed home. I have made one friend though; her name is Emma and she is currently sleeping in her seat next to me using her arms as a pillow. I kind of understand her reason for falling asleep, our history teacher Mrs. Owen is trying to teach us about the golden age while most of the students are either talking with their seat mate, in hushed tones, or are almost sleeping. Lucky for all the student as well as the well ignored teacher this school has a bell to alert us of when class has ended and that bell just rang.

Everyone starts standing up making the chairs scrape against the floor as well as the volume quickly started to raise, this didn't wake Emma though. I poked her cheek a couple of times with her just turning her face from me while grumbling. I sigh, "Emma, wake up", she doesn't move. "Please Emma, wake up", I try once again while poking her cheek. No, go away. "Emma, I won't go away. Just please get up, people are starting to stare." She knows how I don't like attention and kindly enough turns her head gives me a small glare but, in the end, rises and takes her history book, note book and pen from the end of the table. Fine, she thinks while starting to turn to face me. She can be incredibly stubborn and hard headed, but she was the first and only one who talked to me on our first day just four days ago and our friendship just kind of bloomed from there. She's loud, I'm quiet, she hates school, I appreciate it. But she is kind, she usually doesn't show it, but she cares and doesn't judge easily. I don't know her that well, of course I want to get to know her, but I don't feel an extreme need to, she is my first friend in years and I just want to live in that dream for a while before I maybe open my mouth and destroy it all.

While walking out of the classroom we are met with a wall of students quickly walking to get to their locker to get home. While being in this big crowds I'm happy that I learned how to close out most thoughts, before it all crashed on to me and I couldn't help to hear everything on a 15 meter radius around me or anyone I made eye contact with, now I here just a few and of course also anyone I wish to hear the thought of. I use the ability now more mostly to get to know the real character of someone I never met before.

Finally finding an opening in the moving wall of students me and Emma quickly starts walking in the same direction as most others. "You busy this weekend?", she asked while walking. "No, I was just planning on studying for the most part, why". She made a funny face as soon as I mentioned studying. "Well, if you want to do something that's actually fun, I thought that we maybe could have a sleep over." She stops by her locker while I continues walking to mine which is just 7 lockers down. Thank god. Mr. Wilson is finally starting on Monday; this substitute is killing me. Who is Mr. Wilson? It's going to be so much easier when Mr. Wilson comes back. These are just random thoughts from random students but who is that? I don't think we have a teacher named Wilson.

I start putting everything in my bag with Emma looking over my shoulder. Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up. I can feel a headache coming along, I wonder why. She is still doing her little chant while having the decency to look completely unbothered by how slow I am while leaning on the locker next to mine. The halls are emptier now with only a few still by their locker while some are walking towards the exit. "No, I'm sorry but I can't this weekend, mother is holding a gathering slash party for the company she works for." I say while closing my locker and putting my bag on my shoulder. It's a black Armani shoulder bag, sure mother doesn't like me, but I'm still related by blood and can't, in her words, run around bringing shame to her name because of cheap clothes and products. "We could maybe be at my home; my family shouldn't be bothered by it." I would honestly really like to, I mean she is my first friend in a long time but one of mother's rules is for me to stay at home at all time when she is home. Not for my company but to keep an eye on me while at she is able to. "I'm sorry but mother doesn't like me being out of the house when she is home, I'm sure she will be away again next weekend and would love to have a sleep over then if that's alright?" She looks a little sad, her shoulders slumping and eyes darting to the floor but quickly goes back to being normal with a small smile tugging at her lips when hearing that I maybe could next weekend.

We started walking towards the exit, in a calmer fashion now when we aren't being pushed forward by a wall of bodies. I can't keep my smile from blooming on my face while looking towards the door but at the same time hearing her thoughts. She seems to be delighted thinking of how she wishes for Monday to come quicker. That reminds me. "Emma." She looks towards me. "You have been at this school since fifth grade, right." She turns her head more towards me and nods slowly. "Yeah, why?" I keep walking with my face facing forward while looking to and from her face moving only my eyes. "It's nothing really. I just heard some people talking about somebody called Mr. Wilson. I haven't heard the name here before so I'm just wondering if you know who it is." My eyes stay on her face when she turns her head towards the exit with a sour expression on her face. Ugh, I forgot that guy existed. Okay, someone has a grudge. "You know how we have had a substitute for a week in math? Mr. Wilson, full name: Oliver Wilson, is the actual math teacher." She answers quickly and snappily, seeming not wanting to talk about him. It's okay, I got the hint Ill drop it. Awkward silence quickly fallows. And I regret dropping it.

We continue through the school exit down the small stairs to the place where we are supposed to part ways, me going right towards the school bus stop that's just barely seven meters from where I am standing, and Emma going left towards her apartment that's just 10 minutes from here. I start turning my back towards her and begins to walk away. I make it about three steps before a hand takes my left arm turning me ninety degrease left. She sighs running her left hand through her hair with her right one still holding my arm. "I'm sorry. It's not that I'm mad at you or anything I just really don't like the guy. "He is extremely annoying with a way to care free attitude. And his smile is super creepy." As she thinks the last thing, she shudders with an expression making her look partially scared, partially disgusted. "Hey. It's okay, you don't need to apologies." I quickly say back while putting a comforting hand on her left shoulder. I noticed this a while ago, Emma gets emotional very easily so it's easy to accidently hurt her feelings if you don't know her well. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She raises her head and gives me a grateful smile. Thank you.

When looking around I see my bus about 15 seconds from the bus stop and quickly turn my head toward Emma. "I'm sorry but I really need to go, my bus is coming." I turn around and for the second time today I start walking with the bus stop as my goal only to stop half way and turn around to face Emma to see her already walking in the towards her home. "Emma!" I scream and see her turning around. "I'll see you on Monday, we can start planning our weekend sleep over then." She lights up as a big smile glues to her face and at the same time she nods her head franticly. Okay! A voice happily screams in my head. I hear the bus stopping behind and I turn around quickly and run to the entrance, blip my card and take a seat I the middle of the bus on the right side. Not many people take the bus on Fridays: the reason for all the empty seats.

I don't have to wait to long for the bus to stop right outside mothers' home. I see her black Lamborghini in the spacious drive way while hopping out of the bus. While walking on the stone path leading towards the door, I make sure to be looking down to not accidentally looking her in the eyes for when I see her and check my posture to make sure I'm walking with a straight back, she hates when I don't. I open the door and as usual, its open. The maids know my schedule and unlock the door when my last class ends so it's open when I get home. I walk in, closing the door behind me, locking it as well. I see a couple of boxes on the right side of me, stocked neatly by the wall part of the TV room's wall with the rest being glass so you can look out to the garden. The boxes are all closed using a tape where it said Arizona Nights, I guess its stuff for mothers gathering/party tomorrow. I found out about it under summer break. One of the maids told me that as soon as mother comes home, she was going to hold something party-ish to celebrate the move and that when she was on her business trip, she landed an important deal with a company from Sydney, Australia. I know from the way she said it that I was, as usual, to stay in my room. So, I'm doing exactly that. After all I didn't lie to Emma when I said that I was going to study.

My room was on the second floor that you reached by going up the stairs that were on the far-left side of the house, in the living room. Before going there though I took of my shoes and put them on the floor to the right of me by the hallway wall. Mother and everyone who works here doesn't usually take of their shoes, but I like walking in just my socks. I think its cozy. I turn my body to the stairs and swiftly made my way over there then quietly made my way up and turned right and went in to the first door on the left. When I was younger, like very young, I made a name sign to hang on my door. At the time mother still acted like a mom should so we made it together in our former kitchen. You can really see how its homemade, with a cotton candy blue background and messily written Molly with baby pink glitter. I quietly close the door while facing my room and walked to my desk that's positioned forward in the right corner of my square room. While sitting on my chair in front for my desk I put my shoulder bag in my lap and took out my math homework for next week, as well as all the necessities to finish it.

That's how I used my weekend, finishing the math, science as well as the English homework, the biggest problem probably being keeping my concentration on just that, mothers party started on Saturday afternoon and kept on going with countless different attractions on the schedule, so it ended very early morning on Sunday. Waking up Monday morning wasn't that fun either, I slept only three hours the night before, the smell of alcohol still slightly lingering in the air making it only worse. School starts at eight AM every day so, just as today, I always put a timer to wake up twenty minutes over seven. I get out of bed slowly making my way to my closet, putting on a pair of black high-waisted skinny jeans and a baby blue off-shoulder blouse, keeping my hair straight after brushing it. Taking my school bag with me, I walk out my room and down the stairs quickly noticing my especially quiet surroundings, it being explained to me when I can't see my mother's car through the living room windows. I put on the TV listening to Arizona's NEWS as background noise while making breakfast in the kitchen on opposite side of the house but with no walls closing of the connecting area. "Another child kidnapping took place somewhere between six PM and nine PM yesterday evening in the middle of Scottsdale saying to have connections with the other 7 kidnappings in the area. The thirteen-year-old Emma Rodrigues had a goal of going to the closest food store to her home and then quickly coming home again. The trip should only have taken 20 minutes, but she never got home and have been informally declared missing." The news anchor continued with talking about other events while I stood in front of the TV with a half-eaten sandwich in my right hand staring wide eyed at the screen, processing the former information. Emma, is gone? I mean, I have read about kidnappings accruing in the area all through the year but didn't believe it would be this close.

In my daze I see the bus stop by my house, I will have to think about this when I'm not in shock, I can't think like this. I quickly run to our hallway to put on my shoes, hang my school bag over my shoulder and take my jacket with me just in case. Opening the door, I just run seeing the line of kids shrinking, not thinking of locking the door hoping the maids notice and lock it in my stead. Luckily the bus driver sees me and waits for my arrival, I get on, bleep my card and find an empty seat in the back-right corner. If I would have just had that stupid sleep over with her at her house, then she wouldn't have gone there alone and might have had a better chance fighting back whoever that kidnaping freak is. I feel my hands clenching in my lap and my teeth roughly rub against each other. How could her parents let her out that late on her own? Haven't they heard about the kidnappings in the area? My first friend in years gone after just one week of knowing her. No, I will find her, and we are having that dumb sleep over this weekend.

Should I tell her, or just poke her? I mean the bus have stopped, haven't she noticed? Huh? I look up to see a guy from my class sitting in a chair tree places from me looking nervously in my direction but quickly looks down when seeing that I cough him. No one else is in the bus except some walking out of it, the boy from before now also trying to accomplish the same thing. I stand up and walk to the bus exit my body now on auto pilot while putting my full attention on planning. If she disappeared while going to, or from, the shop then that is the most obvious place to start searching: I don't have any other leads. The police still haven't caught the kidnapper after so long so I can't count on them that much. I have been getting an allowance for some years and have barely used any of it so I should have more than enough for a private detective if its needed. I notice my body stopping in front of my locker and decide to leave the subject occupying my mind to after school pulling out my math book as well as my note book with some pens. That's right. The actual math teacher is supposed to start today. Until proven different my opinion of him will remain the same as Emma's.

When walking in to the classroom I see most of the students sitting like normal but seem way to happy about having math first thing in the morning on a Monday, I guess Mr. Wilson is more popular with the students than I thought. I take the seat furthest in the back on the right side, by the windows. A man, maybe twenty-five years old, walk in six minutes later, a big smile on his face. "Hello kids!" he greets us while putting down the papers he had with him. "Goodmorning!" Some of the kid's greet back while some of the new ones in the class look as confused as I would have been if I didn't know who it was. He does a quick look through on the sitting students, his left eye twitches slightly but I don't think anyone else noticed it. "I see a lot of new students. And I guess by the looks some are given me; an introduction is in order." He pauses, turning to the board with a chalk, writing as he speaks. "My name is Oliver Wilson, you can call me Oliver or Mr. Wilson, it's up to you. I'm 27 years old," eh I was close enough, "and have been teaching math in this school for almost seven months now. I hope I can meet your expectations." For the last part he does a little bow. He raises and then asks if there were any questions for him. One in the middle of the class raises their hand, Oliver quickly points at her as a sign to speak. "I heard you have been sick for a while, are you feeling better?" He chuckles looking down at his shoes but looks up again grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Yes, thank you Melisa. I'm feeling much better." Yet again no one seems to notice the scary glint in his eye or how he is smiling like a psychopath. Another girl raises her hand, takes it down again and without permission asks her question. "Well, what did you do while sick. It was like, hole summer break, right?" Okay, already hate her. What's worse, she was blowing bubble gum while speaking, could she be any more cliché? Ugh no, girl I don't know the name of, I sorry mentally, you know how it is, stress isn't fun so sorry for being mean to you mentally. "Yes, you are right, I was sick for almost two months. And for what I did, I just took care of some bugs." 13-year-old bugs with a pair of arms and legs that is. He chuckles a little for himself. Paus, what did you just say, I mean think? You are officially number one on my list of subjects, containing just you. It seems that I might not need to search the area from ger apartment to the food-store. This ability of mine is making it a lot easier than it would have been originally. "Okay, enough questions, let's start shall we." He picks up the stack of papers that he had with him. "I hope you have been listening to the substitute last week because we are having a pop quiz on the content, she was instructed to teach you." Even if this is a misunderstanding, I would rather follow him after school and be wrong than letting it go and later finding out to be right. Everyone in the classroom is showing their displeasure by loudly groaning, some throwing their heads back with a sigh and some roughly putting their head on their table side looking like they are giving up on life. Now he's standing in front of the class looking at all of us like we are his cherished friends. Emma was right, he is creepy.

Under the school day I planned how I would follow him, how far behind him I would be and what I would do if he drove home. I'm extremely happy right now that I took my jacket with me, its black which means I can wear it over my blue shirt so that I can bland it better. I did some research on him as well, he's not famous but there is always at least a little of information on everyone. He is quite normal except for the thing that he moves every year. Not just cities but states, he moves miles every year, but I can't find a non-written or a written explanation. That's about how weird it gets with him, I might be completely wrong about him but for the moment he is my only lead on Emma's disappearance. I know that the teachers' shifts on Monday's end at five PM so after my last class, I wait in one of the school's bathrooms. While waiting I just read on my phone, I don't want anyone hearing I'm here so the quietest form of entertainment for me was reading, changing every so often to looking through Instagram. When I see the clock on my phone turning 5.15 PM I slowly and quietly walk out the girl's bathroom and make my way to the teachers' lounge. The hallways are deafeningly silent, a feeling of an empty airhorn going of next to my ears is as clear as day. Their door has a window I can look through, into the big room with chairs and messy tables and one very prominent desk light outlining the back of one Oliver Wilson. Now, why haven't you left yet? Finally, I think everyone is gone now. He sighs. This was easier under summer break when it was empty all the time. He turns his desk light of fixing his papers putting it on the corner of his table together with other papers. He stands up and I swiftly turn around hiding in the boy's bathroom hallway peeking from the corner. He walks out the door, closing it behind him and locking it. But instead of going to the exit he goes in opposite direction. Okay, maybe there is a backward exit only teachers use. Not before he gets to the end of the corridor and turn right, I get out of my hiding spot and follow his footsteps hearing them echoing in the dark empty space. It feels like I'm in a horror movie and have taken the character of that one dumb kid that follow the scary sounds. I shake my head disappointed in myself.

I stop by the corner where he turned right and look towards his direction hearing and seeing him slowly without a care in the world walking down the hall while fiddling with a key in his left hand. In that pathway there is no exits, none that I know of anyway. This is just getting creepier and creepier, if he isn't the kidnapper after this, I will honestly be surprised. But then again how would no one know where the kids were if he hid them in a school. He stops in front of a room labelled girls bathroom. Now when I think about, that one has been out of use since a year back, Emma told me. Maybe today she will finally brake tell me what I want to know. While thinking this he unlocks the door and steps inside, fortunately I can't hear him locking it after closing. I run to the bathroom door and put my ear to it, his footsteps are growing quieter every second. Just how big is this bathroom? When I can't hear him anymore, I slowly open the door seeing something not so bathroom like. The actual tiles used in most bathrooms on the floor cover only about half of the ground with the rest being a stair case down and then a path continuing to the right. This is getting ridicules, when was this build and who in their right minds go to these lengths for, well, anything. Should I maybe just call the police and then leave? But what if she really is down there, and I heard what he thought before, I can't just leave her with something like that. I pick up my phone from my right jacket pocket and call 911, I will need backup to help if I go down there and it doesn't work out in my favor. "Nine one one, what's your emergency?" A manly voice asks. "Hello, my name is Molly Anderson. I'm right now in Mountainside Middle school and I think I have found the kidnapped children as well as the kidnapper." I answer quickly and in a hushed tone, even though I closed the door I don't want to risk it. "How old are you?" The man asks in an angry tone. "13, but I can't see how this has anything to do with the task at hand!" I answer back in the same tone, what the hell is he doing. "Mis I have had enough of you and your friends prank calling over this matter, it's incredibly insensitive. "I clench my teeth together. Right now, my patience isn't that high, and he is making me use all of it. "I know its insensitive since one of the kidnapped kids is my friend," I spit out, "and I understand if there have been people prank calling about this subject. But right now, I don't have time for your nagging and/or complaining, I just thought that the police would like to know that if you go straight ahead, left and then open the broken girl's bathroom there is a Goddam basement that's not on the maps and I just saw a very suspicious teacher called Oliver Wilson walk down there opening the door with his own key talking to himself how he hopes a "she" will finally brake and tell him what he wants to know. I'm about to go down that basement because obviously you aren't going to help. So have a good day knowing my, maybe, future blood is on your hands." I growl out before hanging up putting my phone in my jacket pocket after turning it on silent. I take a deep breath calming myself down, I can't make any small mistakes just because I'm angry. I open the door again, complete silence greeting me. With a shaky breath I start going down the stairs looking to the pathway on my right to be met with a faint light at the end of the long tunnel.

I heard soft murmurs coming from the other end that grew louder with each passing step. Softly placing my right hand on the right wall while walking forward, its pitch black so I can barely see what's in front of me. The only sorce of light coming from behind me in the bathroom, and far ahead of me. Coming closer to the end of the tunnel but still out of sight if anyone were to look in, I see a white sterile room shaped like a rectangle with one of the shorter ends being towards me. My eyes quickly catch three sitting forms in a small cage furthest away from me, at the end of the room. They all are sitting with their knees to their chins and their arms around themselves, seeming to shiver, two more so than the other. Something is dropped on the floor creating an echo in the room traveling in the tunnel. I try making myself even smaller while my gaze quickly falls on Oliver who is now crutching down to pick up the needle that fell. Behind him I see a metallic table with papers, more needles and small bottles with liquid in them. He takes three needles from his collection and fill all of them with the liquid from one of the smaller bottles that seems to have been used a lot. I have to say, Boomslang venom really is effective. It's good that I learned how much to give. He chuckles lowly. In the beginning I kept trying with the wrong amount, so they grew crazy a lot quicker than intended. It was fun to watch though. He smiles like in school again, like a psychopath.

When he turns his back to me, walking towards the cage with the three bodies, I quickly look around to find a big bookshelf to the left off me. Its barely thirty centimeters place inbetweener the bookshelf and the wall, I try my luck while his back is facing me and run to quietly hide in said space. "Let's see if-

"Order 37! One medium vanilla latte with a slice of carrot cake!" Amelia looks up from the book hearing the barista yell out her order. She quickly puts the bookmark in the book while putting it on the table, stands up and swiftly walks to the place you order/take your order. Amelia got a little frustrated now when the barista interrupted her reading, she knew it would happen eventually since she ordered but it was still frustrating. Amelia took her order from the barista that she now could see was named "Julia" from her name tag. Julia smiles at Amelia while wishing her a good evening. "Thank you, you to", Amelia response. She, more calmly now, walks to her seat seeing her jacket hanging from the chair she sat on, her school bag sitting on the table in front of her chair while leaning to the right on the window to the right of her tablet. The whole right side of the cafés wall being one big window. The seat Amelia's stuff is on has been her favorite seat for a year and a half now since she started coming here. If you look at it from entering door, it's the seat in the furthest left corner with the place you order just five meters to the right of it. Amelia softly puts the plate with the carrot cake as well as the cup of steaming coffee down on the table next to hers, since they are connected, and she needs to rearrange stuff on her table to be able and fit it all. Since her bag is taking up the most space, Amelia takes it and puts it on the chair next to hers. She sits down and puts the plate and cup in front of her, next to her book.

Amelia started reading this book just ten minutes or so ago, right after she ordered and sat down. It got recommended to her by one of the librarians who told her a summary of it. This girl Molly goes through this experience with her kidnapped friend and in the end managed to save just the two other kids, but not Emma. The police show up in the end and helps her, after all that she gets a new view of the police. She believes them to not being good enough for their jobs. Through the book then, the librarian explained, you follow Molly growing up and becoming a detective, and since she can read minds, she becomes one of the best. She moves state to state to different police headquarters who asks for her help, specializing in kidnappings. Amelia likes pretty much any genre when it comes to books but absolutely fell in love with the summery the librarian told her and just had to borrow it. She can't wait to read about Molly when she is grown up. Amelia picks up the book and opens it where she put the book mark, taking it out and putting it on the last page in the book. Finding the sentence where she had to stop, Amelia continues reading "The Clairvoyant".

4 notes · View notes