chapter two

[ IN WHICH SHE WIELDS A KNIFE ]

A breathy sigh leaves my lips once I push open the door to the bathroom. Inside, I let my shoulders drop. I lean over the sink, my head bent down as I breathe in and breathe out harshly. I tuck my brown curly hair out of my face, putting the strands behind my ear. Slowly, I raise my head back up. I stare into the mirror. The florescent white lights in the ceiling makes my caramel skin glow; a symbol that I'm living a healthy and wealthy life. I’ve come a long way. Now, I’m rich, and I’m at the top— where I’ve always wanted to be.

A small smile breaks out on my lips. “For a nineteen year old orphan you sure made the world spin,” I say to my reflection.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom bursts open.

I spin around to see the tall, young man with long red hair saunter in, a huge smile on his face.

“Nobi—”

Before he says anything, I interject. “Luca, leave.”

He lifts his hands in surrender. “Oh, no, Nobi, there’s no need to be hostile.” He brushes a hand through his hair, making them fall back, exposing his chiseled face. “I saw you leave the table in such a hurry, and I only wanted to make sure you were fine.”

“I’m fine. Now leave. This is the women’s bathroom.”

He smirks. “More reason to be in here.”

He disgusts me. And I let him see that with the repulsed look on my face. He notices this and speaks up.

“Don’t be like this, Nobi.” Luca pouts. “You’ve been avoiding me, you won’t speak to me. I saw an opportunity for the both of us to be alone, and I took it.” He starts walking towards the sink, towards me. He licks his lips when he stops in front of me. His eyes are at the same level as mine, courtesy of my choice of footwear and I’m grateful he can’t intimidate me with his height. His white skin is brighter under the lights, but his oval-shaped eyes grow darker. “Stop playing hard to get, Nobi. I know you want this too.”

I don’t say anything.

“You know, a lot of people would kill to be in your position. Are you sure you don’t want this?” He teases. “Maybe getting a taste will make you change your mind.”

I jolt when his cold fingers brush my knees.

My eyes snap to his face to see him smiling at my reaction.

“Your lips say one thing, but your body says a different thing.” Luca whispers, pulling his fingers higher up my left thigh. He slips his hand further under my green dress, but before he gets anywhere, I pull out the pocket knife from a small compartment of the dress.

I put the knife to his neck, forcefully pushing him away from me. At an age like this, an industry like this, and being a woman on top of all that, one faces these kinds of ridiculous predators, day by day. They never take no for an answer. But maybe they will when they see their life flash right before their eyes. I move the knife in front of him, making sure he's discomforted.

At the sight of the weapon, he lifts his hands in surrender. However, he chuckles. “I always forget you have a knife.”

I frown a little, because I've never pulled out this knife before, then what does he mean by his statement? Either way, I shake the thoughts off. “That's the last time you touch me.” I threaten through gritted teeth.

Luca stares at me for a second before chuckling again. “Okay, but there’s no need to get violent.”

Another frown etches onto my face when I see how nonchalant he is towards the knife. It's almost as if he knows I won't stab him, or maybe he knows he can overpower me at any time. “Leave.”

“I will, once I’m done with what I came here for.”

I wield my knife at him.

“You're not the only one I came here for.” He shifts on his feet, before walking to a corner. He pulls something from his pocket and waves it at me. “You want to join me?”

I give him death stares.

He chuckles. “Well, watching me also means you’re joining me.”

With the roll of my eyes, I turn to the mirror. But when I catch his reflection in the mirror, I can’t pull my eyes away. I watch him place a wrapper down on the counter, lowering his head down and snorting it. He throws his head back, face to the ceiling, and hair falling backwards. He rubs his nose and sniffs, then drops his head back down. I quickly avert my gaze.

The sad reality of our world— most people don't enjoy living anymore, they're just chasing the next high, something that can make the pain they feel more tolerable.

“You just missed out on the fun.”

I put the knife back in place, sticking my hand under the tap, and ask, “Slowly killing yourself is fun?”

He puts a hand to his chest, hurt by my words. “Words can kill, Nobi.”

“No, I’m sure you’ll OD first.” I turn to him.

His jaw hardens, but he laughs it off. “You know what amuses me about you, Nobi?”

I don’t answer.

“You always act like you’re better than everyone else, like you’re higher than everyone else. But the truth is, you’re exactly like us— no, you're worse. You’re evil, November. But obviously, you don’t know that… yet.” He gives me a knowing smile; that smile that clearly screams he knows something I do not.

I decide to ignore him anyways.

… [at that time, i thought it was all bullshit, but now i know he was telling the truth about me] …

“I’m leaving.” He throws the wrapper into the trash, and opens the door, about to leave. “And I’ll be seeing you very, very soon, my Queen.” He blows a kiss and leaves.

Gagging in disgust, I turn back to the sink. In my head, I throw series of curses at the people who have gotten on my nerves in the last few minutes. Then, the lights flicker. And all of a sudden, I feel anxious. This building isn’t old, and the host of this get-together party will never in a million years rent out a building with faults. With a frown, I watch the light bulb continue to flicker above me. Shaking my hands dry, I step out of the bathroom.

Once I step out, I’m met with utter silence.

A split second ago, people were partying, dancing, and laughing with loud classical music playing in the background. I could hear their happy chatters from the bathroom, but now, nothing.

The building has become so quiet that it hurts my ears. Nothing can be heard, only the sound of my footsteps, echoing down the walls like I’m some kind of huge beast.

My eyes are focused on the door ahead. With shaky hands, I reach out to push them open. But before I make that move, my feet steps into something. It feels like a puddle of water. Looking down, I stare at my feet, except it’s not water I see.

Blood. It’s blood.

Wide eyed and with harsh breaths, I force the doors open and run into what was once a peaceful dinner event.

I freeze immediately, taking in the sight in front of me.

Slowly, my eyes bounce from one body to another with my heart caught up in my throat. It's like my optic nerve has vanished, because I can’t comprehend what my eyes see.

There’s blood everywhere.

The tables are turned over.

The food has been tossed over the place, mixing in with the blood.

The musical instruments have been ripped into pieces, scattered across the floor.

I'm in shock. I don't know what to do. The urge to throw up becomes intense at the horrible sight.

Everyone’s dead.

From the corner of my eye, I spot Marcus laying on the ground, close to the exit. He has a microphone in his hands. It looks like he tried running to escape, but he didn't make it.

A whimper leaves my lips as I race towards him.

“Marcus.” I fall to the ground beside him. I grab his face in between my hands. “Marcus, wake up.” I place my hands on his chest, about to administer CPR when I notice his heart is no longer there. A cold shiver runs down my spine. Blood has now stained my palms and the ends of my green dress. Heavy breaths leave my lips as I look around to see that people on the ground have claw marks on their body. Their hearts missing. Chests ripped open. Just like Marcus.

It doesn’t make sense. An animal? But an animal couldn’t have attacked. It was way too quiet. And way too quick.

This has to be my mind playing tricks on me. Or this is a prank. They’re not dead. They can't be.

“Marcus.” I beg. “Wake up, Marcus.” I continue patting him on the face. “This isn’t funny. This is some expensive joke here, Marcus. Wake up. I don’t like this!”

Panic washes over me. He's the closest thing I have to a friend, and he's gone? No. He can't leave. This cannot be happening. This is all a bad dream. Probably I slipped, and hit my head on the sink in the bathroom, and I'm lying there unconscious right now. This isn't real.

Denial consumes me.

Still panicking, I can't push tears out. It's been a habit since a child. I've never one shed a tear. Instead, I grow angry. Very angry.

"Marcus!" I scream, demanding that he wakes up, and tells me that it is all a prank. "If you don't get up, I'll call the police." My eyes move back to his empty chest. "You're really dead, aren't you?" My voice breaks.

I hear a voice.

“Dead men tell no tales, don’t you know that?”

At the sudden voice, I jolt. I snap my head in its direction. There’s someone leaning on the wall opposite me. It’s a dark corner since most of the lights are out. And slowly, he steps into the light. My breath hitches when I see blood covering his mouth and jaw, hands covered in blood too.

“Who are you?” I pull out my knife, pointing it at him.

The skinny young adult with curly hair smiles at me, and wipes his mouth. He doesn’t respond. He just gazes at me.

However someone else replies to my question.

“It doesn’t matter who we are.” A girl with short white hair materializes in front of me, slapping the knife out of my hands. I hiss when a pulsing ache goes through my hand. “What matters is that you’re coming with us, November," she says.