A/N: October 24 2021
Ah yes, so as promised, I'm uploading this chapter early! Ya'll are amazing, we hit 400 votes 😭🎉 I've been watching the numbers goes up and uploaded as soon as it hit 401 😂
And thank you for the song recommendations 🌟🌷🌟🌷
Enjoy this chapter. You guys deserve it ❤
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I couldn't get a wink of sleep, not after learning that my roommate was possibly a murderer.
I killed my roommate.
I got up at 6:00 a.m. and went to take a shower. Fortunately, I didn't bump into a half-naked hunk named Adam or a psychopath with a knife. The rest of the day went on as normal as a day at Serpenti High could go.
I was so immersed in the world of delinquents and the idea of surviving that I had forgotten that the main reason why I was here was to learn. I was so behind in history class that I decided to go to the school library to study, because yes, despite the alarming number of criminals teenagers roaming the halls, Serpenti High was still a high school.
It was no surprise that it was empty. Well, there was a librarian, but I couldn't tell if he was still alive or not. The man looked like he was a hundred years old.
"Hello, sir," I greeted the librarian sitting at the front desk. He turned his wrinkly neck towards me and began to choke.
"A student," he wheezed. "Wel—" He coughed, his voice coming out as a dying bagpipe. "Come."
I was about to thank him, but he closed his eyes, his breaths coming out as loud painful rasps. I pressed my lips together.
Yeah, maybe it was best if I didn't bother him.
I went to an empty table and wiped the dust off. I sat down, almost broke the chair, and opened my textbook. I tried to study, but my eyelids felt heavy. Maybe I should rest a bit. Yeah, just for a few seconds...
I rested my head on my arms and fell asleep almost immediately.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps. My eyes cracked open, and I blinked away the temporary blurriness. A tall figure was looking at some books in one of the aisles. I squinted my eyes and was surprised to see Brock. His striking brows slightly creased as he focused on the pages of his book. My eyes swept over the hard lines of his face, studying the carve of his jaw and perfectly structured nose.
The afternoon sun that peered through the windows glinted gold on his bronze skin. He wore a baseball cap on his trimmed hair. Despite his intimidating height and the length of his shoulders that looked twice the size of mine, I didn't find him scary. Brock was one of the few people I actually wanted to be friends with. He seemed like a nice guy, and by nice, I mean he didn't look like he wanted me dead.
I went up to him and when he looked up, I offered a smile. He started moving his hands, but I didn't know what he was saying. I tried to read his face, but his Mona Lisa expression wasn't helping me at all.
"Sorry, I don't know sign language."
He did the same hand movements, but I still didn't understand.
"How am I doing?" I guessed. "I'm great, thanks."
Brock shook his head.
"What's my name?" I tried again.
Brock reached out and I flinched, thinking he was going to hit me. Instead, he removed something off my shoulder. I jumped with a loud cry when I saw a thick black spider on his hand and frantically started brushing my shoulders and clothes.
Brock remained calm, letting the tarantula crawl on his hand. He flipped his hand over when it ventured to the back and flipped his palm up when it crawled up his thumb. I watched in amazement and disgust, shivers trickling down my spine. He gently put the spider on one of the shelves, and we watched it crawl away on its eight hairy legs.
"Thanks," I said, short of breath.
He simply stared at me, knowing that I wouldn't understand sign language.
"Do you want to study with me?" I suggested, nodding towards my table. He followed my gaze, and to my surprise, he nodded. He grabbed a couple of books before joining me.
"You like to read?" I asked.
He lowered his hand and tapped my pencil case.
"Of course, go ahead," I said. He nodded. He had a beetle book, a book about torture, and one about sign language.
"I thought you already knew sign language."
Brock took out a pen and I ripped a piece of paper for him.
The book isn't for me.
"Who is it for?" I asked.
Styx.
I raised my brows in surprise. Styx didn't look like someone who'd want to learn sign language. He looked like he'd be more into the torture book.
"I didn't know he was learning sign language."
He started learning for me.
I blinked in surprise. Maybe Styx wasn't as terrible as I thought. Then again, it was hard to really know someone behind these walls. Everyone was putting on a tough act to survive.
"Can you teach me something too?" I asked curiously.
I expected him to open the sign language book, but he flipped open the torture book instead.
"Hum..."
He turned the book towards me and tapped on the left page. I leaned forward and read it.
The importance of Morse code: Jeremiah Andrew Denton was an American soldier who served during the Vietnam War. He lived in terrible conditions for almost eight years after he was held captive by the opposing army. During an interview, he used Morse code to save himself. Denton blinked T-O-R-T-U-R-E to the U.S Naval Intelligence to inform them that he was being tortured. Morse code can be considered a form of sign language that can help individuals in dangerous situations when used correctly.
"Oh, I see. I guess Morse code can be a type of sign language," I said, intrigued.
Brock started to write.
I can teach you how to blink S.O.S in Morse code.
"Really?" I asked excitedly, and he nodded. We spent the afternoon learning Morse code and different forms of torture. It was a unique and fun bonding moment. Some people played basketball or board games together; Brock and I read books about how to psychologically torture your enemies.
Do you like to read? He wrote. I shook my head.
"I didn't get to read a lot when I was a kid."
Why not?
I chuckled sheepishly as my hand awkwardly rubbed the back of my neck. "Things were complicated."
Brock simply nodded, and I was grateful he didn't ask me to explain any further.
My mind recalled Juliet lending me some of her favorite books when I lived with her and Christopher temporarily. She let me read the books she had, and I remembered being submerged in the stories. She'd call me down for dinner, but I couldn't put the books down. Christopher had to come up and knock on my door for me to get up.
The pang of nostalgia caught me off guard, and I felt an uncomfortable feeling sit heavy in my chest. I missed Christopher and Juliet, and I realized at that moment that they were the only adults with whom I had a happy memory. I wished they'd come see me.
Brock wrote something and handed the paper to me.
It's never too late :)
***
To my dismay, Brock wasn't in the library the next day. I sat at a table near the window and opened the book about torture, practicing how to blink S.O.S in Morse code.
"Is something wrong with your eye?"
I jumped at the voice. Styx greeted me with a broad smile, his blue eyes shimmering with mischief. Brock stood behind him, his face an unreadable mask. Styx tilted his head to read the cover.
"Torture?" he asked with glee. "My, my, you really are a masochist."
I snapped the book shut, placing my elbows against it in embarrassment.
"What are you doing here?" My voice was resigned.
"I was looking for you, why else?" he said, feigning innocence.
I had a bad feeling about this, and I didn't hide my hostility.
"Why?"
"Because we're friends," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Over my dead body."
He blinked, then smiled.
"That can be arranged."
"We aren't friends."
"Why not?"
"You asked me to suck your dick!"
"That's all in the past." He glanced over his shoulder. "Right, Brock?"
No answer.
Styx smiled. "See? Brock agrees."
I rolled my eyes and turned towards my book. To my dismay, Styx pulled out the seat in front of me, spun it around, and sat down. Brock stood behind him like a bodyguard, silent and as unreadable as one could get.
"Wanna know how I got in here?" he asked.
Oh great, he was doing what I loathed most: starting a conversation.
"No, not really."
"I blew up my old high school," he explained with smooth practice, as if he was used to telling people about himself. "I like to fuck things up when I'm bored. Three teachers and five students suffered from fourth-degree burns. Oh, and one of them lost their life."
My eyes shot open and he barked into laughter. He had a cynical grin as his head tilted to the side, his turquoise hair falling sideways.
"Just kidding," he said. "Only two of three facts are true."
Only.
I couldn't help but ask, "Don't you feel bad?"
"Oh, me? No, I can't really feel anything." He laughed. "I have emotional blunting."
Another fact that he threw at me with ease. He made it sound like that was something to brag about.
"Emotional blunting?" I asked.
"Y'know, when someone's emotions are so dulled that they feel nothing. Someone could die and I'd feel nothing."
"Like a psychopath?"
He stared at me then threw his head back, bursting into laughter. I thought we'd get kicked out for being so loud, but my eyes shifted to the librarian and remembered that there was a 99% chance that he was no longer in this world.
Styx rested his cheek on his knuckles, a grin plastered across his face.
"Yeah, like a psychopath."
I pursed my lips and glanced at Brock, genuinely curious as to why he hung out with someone with psychopathic tendencies.
Styx jerked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards Brock.
"Oh, him? He doesn't talk much."
He leaned forward, putting a hand on the side of his mouth.
"He's mute," Styx whispered in a not-so-discreet voice. Then his voice returned to normal. "The poor kid suffers so much from PTSD that he can't even croak a word."
I cast him a sharp stare. How could he be so insensitive? Oh right, he couldn't feel empathy.
"I'm sure he's not deaf," I hissed.
Styx leaned his chair back, looking up at Brock.
"You don't mind, do you?" he asked innocently. Brock didn't answer and Styx shifted his eyes back to me, smiling. "See? He says it's fine."
I let out a quiet sigh.
"Look, is there a reason you're here? If you're looking for a fight, then just say so. We can take it outside."
"We want to be your friends. You're no longer a Nobody, you seem fun to mess with, and..."
He paused.
"And?" I pressed.
"Boss's orders."
My brows quirked as I asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Not so bright, are ya?"
I flinched and clenched my fists. Styx noticed and gave me a languish wave.
"Relax, you'll have plenty of occasions to get beaten up at Serpenti High. Whenever you're in trouble, you can find me or Brock. We're friends now."
"Gross. I'd rather die."
"Can I see your hand?" he asked.
"Why?" I said, extending it. Styx took my hand and shook it.
"There, we shook hands, now we're officially friends."
My mouth dropped open. Styx released my grip and stood up, glancing at Brock.
"C'mon, big boy, let's go steal someone's dog tag and make them beg for it."
I watched in utter confusion as they walked away. I could still hear his voice before it receded completely.
"Hey, I did a great job, didn't I? I'm so good at making friends, don't ya think? Oh, don't make that face, Brock. You don't need to get jealous..."
The door closed behind them. I blinked in a daze, still trying to process what happened.
So, my roommate was a murderer and my other two "friends" consisted of a borderline psychopath who liked to blow things up and a guy who suffered from PTSD. Great. Just great.
I didn't stay in the library very long after they left. As I headed to my room, I couldn't help but ponder on what Styx said. Boss's orders... What did he mean by that? Who was his boss? And why would his boss send him and Brock to protect me? Who would—?
I stiffened as an idea struck me.
Wait, don't tell me...
My thoughts were interrupted by a loud cry of pain. I jerked my head towards the noise. It was coming from the boy's bathroom. My mind was telling me to ignore it and head back to the dormitories, but my instincts were telling me to see what was going on. I didn't know that my instincts had suicidal tendencies until now. I slowly walked to the boy's bathroom, and my eyes widened in shock.
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