"Application"

32. Target .32

To say that Andy was intimidated by the drawings that you put on her mirror, well, that would be a lie.

No, she seemed to find them amusing.

Fucking amusing.

As if you were a declawed kitten trying to murder her with fluffy little paws. Adorable, but utterly harmless.

And in a way, it was true,

but that didn't mean it was any less irritating.

You glared at Andy as she scanned the mirror calmly, letting out an occasional chuckle when her eyes passed something particularly "funny".

Key stood behind you, watching your expression with interest. She didn't speak, and her lopsided grin never seemed to change, but you had a feeling that she too was finding your predicament entertaining.

"Well, you certainly seem to have a passion for art." Andy turned to face you, smiling formally. Maybe she wasn't as unbothered as you'd originally thought.

You shrugged. "I guess."

Andy's eyes narrowed. "You'll be starting back at school tomorrow."

Your eyes widened. You hadn't expected her to let you go back to school. "I will?"

Andy rolled her eyes. "Don't act so surprised." She then turned around and left the room, leaving you confused.

You guessed that she wanted you to feel guilty for 'hurting her feelings', but you were way passed feeling any measure of guilt for Andy of all people.

You felt it then, that spot that you never looked at,

the place that you ignored the best you could,

it was pulsing like a beating heart.

___

"How could you do this to me? N/n, you bitch. I don--on't understand."

Tears flowed from her eyes as she hugged you close.

Your eyes were wide, your stomach roiling.

Blood trickled from her hands.

You felt it like you would a spirit bind, deep within the root of your very being. The knife was buried so deep in your skin that you could feel it in your bloodstream.

Like each letter carved into your flesh was a stitch in your soul that would never be unwound.

The string pulled tight around your body, leaving you to suffocate in the madness.

And you felt a chill run down your spine when she looked at you

and smiled.

___

Carmen POV

___

Carmen Pravol was a boy of many talents.

He could bake, write, draw, and even crochet.

But what he liked to do the most of all, was hack.

Carmen never really knew what exactly it was that got him so into the art of hacking. Maybe it was the power he felt, the security, or even just the fun of it.

Lately, however, he had begun to think of it as fate.

Had he not learned to hack, he would be completely in the dark about what exactly was going on in the FYF group chat.