Delicate Pulse | Violentine

Extinguish ~ Part 2

"I already knew it was you," I mumble.

"Hm?"

"The stupid paint," I clarify. "I already knew you were the one who did that."

It wasn't true. For some reason, Mitch hadn't crossed my mind at all and for that, I felt stupid. I guess I was too preoccupied...God, what the fuck was even happening anymore?

A make out a click of a switch, followed by a low continuous hum.

"Give it a sec, the generator's old," alerts Mitch, his voice moving further away. The pitch-black engulfs him.

Shortly, a flicker of light disturbs the darkness before a blazing flash stains it. There's a shady nook at the end of the room, light barely touching it. There's sporting equipment, stationery, books, magazines and mountains of crates loaded with random shit. Most likely stolen.

Among the forgotten and neglected trash was a work desk. Familiar objects were resting on it such as duct tape, markers and tangles of wires. A project in progress perhaps.

Mitch throws himself onto a couch. He grunts as he lands, dust exploding from the cushions. "Welcome to my office. Make yourself comfortable."

I cross my arms and he realises I'm not moving. "Or just stand there like a freak."

"I'm in your stupid hideout so spit it already," I esperate.

"Fine but first a question-"

"For fucks sake! What is this? A charity case?!"

He ignores my complaint. "How do you get up on the roof? I know you go up there."

The roof?

He shakes his head and reiterates. "How do you get onto the rooftop?"

"I haven't been there in ages-"

"That doesn't answer my question," he sighs.

"The belltower," I blurt.

"There are no stairs," he smirks with a devious glint in his eyes. He thinks he's caught me in a lie.

I roll my eyes. "I climb."

"Bullshit."

I don't say anything else and so he scoffs at my lack of response, unconvinced. "Your skinny ass can climb up that? Do you take steroids?"

My patience dwindles. "Why the fuck am I here, Mitch?"

"Fine," he scowls and points. "See those pipes? They connect all around the school."

I follow his finger to the far ceiling, a band of silver vessels weaved together like snakes. "So?"

"You can hear anything from miles away," he explains "It's actually wicked but it's also a fucking curse."

Swinging onto his feet he strolls past me and digs into a small steel compartment. "Thirsty?"

"How the hell did you get a mini fridge down here?"

"Teacher's lounge. It wasn't easy, Willy almost took out his back. Do you want one or not?"

It wasn't likely but I wasn't taking any chances of being drugged. "I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

He selects a can of soda, slamming the fridge shut with the side of his tattered shoe. He cracks it open and takes a quick swig. He returns to the sagging couch. "A while ago I was down here working on...uh...stuff...when I heard this annoying ass clunking noise. I figured it was coming from that duct in the far right. That one leads to one of the girls' bathrooms."