Peripeteia - CH. 6, p.2

"When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help." - Thomas Harris

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The room we walked into was handsome, inspired by a kind of older American style – beautiful, but old, with almost faded panels in simple colors, and some ordinary furniture I recognized from old Magazine books my grandma used to look into. But it was pleasing, more than pleasing; I preferred this style over any "chique" modern style the houses back home were inspired from – they were all the same. Every house seemed to be the exact same from the house you were coming from. The room was big, and not too empty, but also not too stuffed. It would be a pleasure staying in here.

"I'll take this one!", Sofia shrieked when she saw the bed right at the window. The view was incredible; it was an overview of the whole property, the gardens and the courtyard, and the faraway country land that went on for miles. I had never been much of a countryside fan, but for some reason the view was much more pleasant than I expected it to be.

Veronica sat down on the bed to the right and took out some stuff from her auburn shoulder bag. "I'll take this one then," I said, while sitting down on the bed that was the nearest to the door. I regretted it the minute I said down; the walls weren't soundproofed – so silly students of our class were rumouring right behind the wall next to the door. It would be a pleasure to sleep here, especially as I already had trouble sleeping most nights.

"You sure?", Sofia asked and gestured to the wall behind me. I nodded, but my lips formed a "thank you."

"I have to go and talk to Derek," Veronica interrupted our little talk and stood up. Sofia and I groaned.

"Please, please just try to be compromising, "I begged and Sofia nodded in agreement.

"What? You're supposed to be on my side!", Veronica took the autumn shoulder bag that she took some stuff out of a couple of minutes ago, just to put everything back in.

"We love you, but you can be a bit...intense sometimes," Sofia interjected, but stopped when she saw Veronica's death stare. To our surprise, Veronica deeply sighed and then said, "ugh, okay. I'll try." With that, she stood up to get out of the room.

"The trip starts in an hour, try to be back in 45," Sofia reminded her, and Veronica turned around, "Meet me at the second-floor staircase at 4:30?", she asked. Sofia and I both nodded. Veronica went out and closed the heavy door. I heard the creak of her pumps strutting down the stairs.

"You think she'll be more comprising?", Sofia asked carefully while starting to unpack her suitcase. I slightly laughed and shook my head, "she took our advice. That's an improvement. But she's still Veronica."

Sofia groaned slightly and put some stuff in the colorful closet next to Veronica's bed, "you're right. I'll try harder next time. "

Time flew by. After some more unpacking, it was already 4:20, and though we weren't quite finished with unpacking even half of the stuff Veronica brought – yes, we unpacked her stuff – we decided to go down. Sofia and I were in the middle of talking about our favourite late-night show, when Veronica approached us near the second-floor staircase. Sofia's laugh got stuck in her throat the minute at which Veronica looked at us. Her cheeks were red, her eyes full of anger.

"Oh no, not again," Sofia groaned when she saw Veronica. It made sense – Veronica's drama with Derek was even too much for me, and it was my favourite movie genre. "I'll ask her about it don't worry," I whispered into her ear to avoid Veronica hearing us.

"Thanks," she whispered back. Veronica right next to us, and joined our little walk to the bus.

"How are you?", I commenced to start a conversation with her, though I knew the answer. "I'm furious!", she hissed. We were still walking second-floor stairs and the way Veronica gestured around with her hands while talking made me afraid that she would fall down soon.

"He was texting me on Sunday non-stop, asking me where I am and wanted me to send him the address. I'm not a dog, he can't put me on a lead!"

Veronica and Derek's relationship was more complex and back-and-forth than most Drama's from Broadway. The question on which their relationship-feud was based on was who loved the other one more. Though they pretended that there were actual, heart-breaking feuds going on, Sofia and I both knew that this was their basic problem at most.

"Well, did you answer?", I asked and send a prayer because we made it down the stairs.

"Of course not, why should I?", she hissed, but there was an underlined sound of despair, "that's the reason he wanted to talk to me."

And that didn't go so well?", I responded carefully as we passed through a kind of gate that led us to another part of the hotel. Veronica snorted heavily after hearing my question.

"You could say so."

"I don't know why both of you keep on making it so complicated," I murmured and expected a heavy backlash, "He makes it complicated!, " she roared.

There it was.

Veronica threw her empty coffee into the trash can on our way to the reception that led us to the bus. As we turned and walked round a right corner, I saw a brown-haired lad. Derek.

"Watch out he's coming," Sofia mumbled in Veronica's ear, who's response was a groan.

While the brown-haired lad approached us further, I realized a black-haired lad right next to him. Taylor. Of course.

"Were where you Sunday? And why weren't you answering your phone?", Derek snarled and crossed his arms. I was astonished – Derek was rarely mad. He was usually happy and carefree – sometimes he acted like a child. But now, on the way he asked Veronica these questions and the way his jaw was tight, I realized that he was just as mad as Veronica.

"To not keep up with jerks like you," she countered back and crossed her arms as well. He rolled his eyes and Veronica looked at him with a bold stare.

"Stop this game I know where you were. And I don't like the idea of you being there. We talked about this," he answered, and his voice was calmer than before, but I saw the way his teeth were clenched. He was holding back.

"Wait, where were you?", I interrupted the conversation of two numb heads. It seemed important; Derek wouldn't get this mad for no reason. Veronica had been somewhere dangerous.

"It doesn't matter Melea. And it shouldn't concern you Derek," she uncrossed her arms, "because as far as I'm aware you broke up with me."

"You know it wasn't official," Derek replied, but his voice was underlined by anger once again.

"Well, then I'm making it official. We're over. Melea, Sofia, let's go," she took both of our hands and tried pulling us away, but let her hand go and buried my face in my hands, while Sofia replied with a bold "we're going into the same direction, Veronica."

I couldn't focus all my attention on Derek's and Veronicas never-ending-Drama because it was too entertaining to look at Taylor glancing over each furniture piece in the room. His eyes were scanning every single object as if he was able to see through them. His feet were nervously tipping on the ground and his fingertips couldn't stop moving. He was clearly searching for something and I knew what it was. His nervousness because of the loss of some stupid drugs made me laugh slightly. Derek and Veronica were so much in their own world of screaming and fighting that they didn't hear the soft laughter coming out of my mouth, and Sofia was so unsure about what to do that she was lost in her own thoughts as well. Only Taylor noticed my chuckle and what I said next.

"Are you searching for something?", I suppressed my laughter. I wasn't sure what made it so funny for me. Maybe it was the look on Taylor's face when he realized that I took his drugs. I could see his mind analysing my words. He looked up, his mouth opened slightly. His whole face expressed surprised, while mine was graced with satisfaction.

Maybe it was the simple fact that I stole drugs as if they were some stupid play toy. Maybe it was just the Absurdity of the whole situation.

"Stop it now!", Sofia said much more loudly than she usually was, and my full attention was back to Derek and Veronica, who stopped screaming.

"This is so stupid. You're going to talk about this on your way to the bus. Now! And you will compromise," she glanced at Veronica, "and listen," she gave Derek a bold stare. To her own surprise, both of them nodded. I was about to walk to the bus with them, when I heard Taylors voice behind me.

"Melea, can I talk to you?"

"You're going to be fine?", I whispered in Sofia's ear and got a nod back. "Yeah, I should find Kara before going on the bus anyways."

She went back to Derek and Veronica, who were as silent as never before, and started walking towards the reception.

"God, it isn't so hard being decent, is it?", Sofia hissed and Veronica and Derek both mumbled something I couldn't hear in response.

I chuckled, and then followed Taylor who was heading towards the left corner of the room next to another staircase.

"You surprised me," he started, and empathised every single letter as if it was honey for his soul.

"I know," I just replied. He leaned forward and I saw some confusion flashing in his eyes for a second, "how did you...?", he started, but I didn't let him finish. "A real thief never reveals his secrets," I responded and imitated his usual smirk. He chuckled when he realized who I was trying to imitate and leaned back.

"So, for what purpose did you need them?," he asked, and winked, "maybe you are worse than I am," implying, that I took the drugs for my own pleasure.

"I don't believe so. I only planned to teach you that I know people better than you do," I answered. He chuckled slightly and shook his head, "I don't believe that," he smirked.

"Why's that?", I then replied and provoked him by intimidating his smirk again. His smile turned wider.

"Because I've had worse things to fight with than a broken leg or a drama-loving, uncompromising best friend."

"So, you see the world in a worse light than it actually is?", I questioned and he thought about my question, but turned then shook his head and his facial expression changed, "I believe, I see it in a light in which it actually is."

Again, he made me unsure about what to answer. I opened my mouth, but closed it fast as I wasn't I was at a loss of words. I saw his smile vanishing for a moment, and his fake one returned.

"You want to give me back what you have stolen from me?", he tried bringing the conversation back to his drugs.

"If you tell me what its purpose is?", I responded and shrugged my shoulders.

"Melea, you know I won't, " he whispered and I rolled my eyes, "come on, just give them back."

"No," I replied and crossed my arms, "No?" he asked and again, his face reflected his surprise, "so, you do want them for your own enjoyment?", he added on and he supressed a smile.

"No, of course not," I rolled my eyes at him again, "but I barely know you. I don't want to give you something that you hurt yourself, or other's with."

This time, he was surprised by my answer and unsure about what to say. He glanced at my middle-grey shoulder bag and then he looked up, "Melea, just give them back. Please."

"What if I won't? You wouldn't look so good in an orange jumpsuit," I responded and supressed a smile, "You want to bet?" he asked and a challenging smirk graced his face.

"No, it's not worth a shot. You're not really my type."

I saw how he tried to supress a smile as well, but then he looked down at my shoulder-bag and then up to me, "Melea, please. I need them," he whispered and I raised an eyebrow, "Are you that addicted?"

He uncrossed his arms, and I saw something in his eyes...something that reminded me of sorrow, "I barely promise things. But I promise you, I don't take or sell these. I just need them back. Please."

I sighed, looked back into his eyes, and nodded. I looked around the room, but saw nothing unusual nor someone. I leaned forward and he did the same. I opened the bag and rummaged through the different shelf inside; I knew I put it in the first one at the left side, but there was no harm in messing with him for some more time. The look on his face was worth the acting. I pulled them out and he took the transparent package out of my hands, and placed it into his jacket pocket.

"Thank you."

And from his eyes I could tell that he meant it. But then I wondered; what did he need them for? If he was not taking them, what did he need them for? Was he a former addict and needed them to remind him of all the reasons they shouldn't be taken? Or did he enjoy the feeling of uncertainty? Of restlessness? Did he just had them for a kick? A kick of adrenaline?

I couldn't think further, because Taylor interrupted my thoughts. "Come on, let's walk to the bus. You don't want to miss the plant orientation tour, do you?", he put his arm around me and therefore pulled me back towards the direction of the reception.

"Yeah, I'm so excited, can't wait," I said, my words filled with sarcasm. He smirked and pulled me closer.

"Come on, let's go."

"Is this the sixth or seventh time you break up?", I asked Veronica when I stood up from the middle seat in the second-last row of the bus, "Fifth, Melea," Veronica went off the bus, "keep track."

The Excursion was just as boring as I imagined it would be. I barely remembered anything from the three hours hike we made through the countryside. The repetitive questions from the teacher didn't help. Though the view of the landscape from our window was marvellous, the actual hike through them was lengthy and prolonged.

When we arrived at the hotel, I remembered that I forgot to get something out of my locker. We had all gotten a locker down the hall by the reception, to put in our bags or books we might need for the trips in there. It was dark when I arrived at the locker hall; only a weak lightbulb light up the locker part of the hall. While Veronica and Sofia went straight up to our room, I stayed down to get to my locker. I was barely awake when I heard someone shouting.

"Hey you!", I turned around, and found myself buried in Taylor's chest. He leaned casually against his locker a couple meters away, holding something between his hands that I couldn't identify. Only that he hadn't screamed, but the blonde girl near my locker.

"What gives me the honours that Kyle's toygirl wants to talk to me?", I asked Hannah with fake enthusiasm.

Hannah. Short, dyed blonde hair, the clothes so short that guys at night asked her how much a taste was, and the eyeliner so long that I could find neither end nor beginning of the wing.

She just snorted and crossed her arms, "We've never talked face-to-face before, but I know who you are, Melea. And I also know what kind of people, or friends, you surround yourself with. "

"With real ones?, " I replied and raised an eyebrow, but she only snorted again, "I really don't know what your problem is, except the obvious, but don't think that the little flirt between Kyle and your friend meant more than what Kyle has with me. The fact that he had anything to do with people like you is incredulous enough. "

I raised both eyebrows and glanced briefly at Taylor, who looked rather bored, and, according to his gaze, was considering simply turning away to get away from Hannah, and allowing her to continue her ego trip without his presence.

I put my bag into my locker and turned back to Hannah. My room was way up on the other side of the Hotel, and the unnecessary delay that Hannah caused, extended the minutes that I was away from my bed. And I neededmy sleep.

Hannah had realized that I wasn't responding to her useless insults, which, according to her facial expressions, was unexpected for her. I could turn into a real mean girl in nights – especially when I was tired. I strongly disliked it when my sarcastic side turned into a simple mean one, so I tried avoiding a fight at all costs.

"I'm just better than her, so she should just get over it!" she hissed and I sighed. Why couldn't she just let it go?

"Because your loud and always have to dominate conversations?", I responded with a raised eyebrow. Hannah's mind was filled with all kinds of insults, while mine was simply imagining my dreamy bed, with me laying in it.

"Your friend and you are just nothing," she countered and I sighed deeply, "So you have to deprive others to make yourself feel better. You have a huge, bad ego. It's not healthy."

Hannah's frustration was truly visible now, and I hoped she would just stop, but it seemed as if some native characteristic inside of her forced her to keep going. "And the way you dress...," she commenced another comeback, but didn't know what else to say.

"And you're the one to judge, because...?" I responded, while I fought with my own body to not fall asleep. Hannah wasn't sure what to say anymore. She remained quiet for a moment and just tried to kill me with her eyes.

"If you have problem that Sofia used to be together with your boyfriend, you might want to seriously think about why your boyfriend would rather be with people like us, than with you," I said sweetly, slamming my locker door shut and walking away. Taylor's laugh was the last thing I heard before I walked up the stairs to the other part of the hotel where the bedrooms were.

"That's ... your ... ugh," I heard someone say behind me, followed by the sound of high heels creaking the wet floor. I turned around with my arms crossed and saw that Hannah was chasing me.

"With all the money your father makes, I thought he was at least able to improve your verbal expression a little, " I said with a forced smile, "Oh and here's a hint that can help you to integrate in society: when people run away from you they don't usually want to talk to you. But don't be mad at Kyle, you can't really hold that against him, can you?"

I turned to go again, but she was holding my arm.

"Just so you know; my father made sure that I have excellent verbal expression," she hissed but I just frowned in response.

"I highly doubt that. But as I heard he is occupied with doing much worse stuff."

Hannah's cynical smile disappeared. She let go of me and I just looked at her for a moment. The madness in her eyes had disappeared. She looked like a little, insecure girl.

"You heard about it?" she asked but sounded much younger now. It was weird; as if she was another person's all of a sudden. "Of course," I slowly responded.

Hannah had never been a bright one, but had always gotten everything she wanted without working for it. That was unfair, but it had always been that way. And for some weird reason, I understood that. It wasn't her fault. It was her father's inability to raise her.

Rumours were flying thick in my school. They were at every school; a girl had a date with an attractive, high-in-the-social-hierarchy guy and a couple weeks later she gained a few pounds – pregnant. Someone liked to walk around in black clothes – emo. A guy liked to try out new stuff so he tried out makeup – gay. People obsessed on rumours as if they were soaking their life out of them if they did otherwise. My school differentiated in one important point with others; they were true.

A rumour about Hannah had been told around in the past few weeks; her father had bribed some important figure in Brown to decline a student's acceptance, to get Hannah into a college that was her third choice as the other one's weren't as easy to be bribed. I knew the guy that Hannah took the spot of; he was in our grade. His parents had been saving money for their whole lives to get him into Brown – it was all he talked about. The little sympathy I used to have for Hannah had vanished after seeing the sorrow in his eyes.

I looked back at Hannah, who was nibbling on her bottom lip. With her feet, she tapped the floor and looked down for a moment. She felt uncomfortable and it was way too easy to not catch up on it.

"I know, I know, but why should my dad apologize? Three people have died after marrying Dominique."

"Wait what?"

I uncrossed my arms and stared at her, stunned. My consternation seemed to calm her down, as she now felt like she had the upper hand, "Yes, all of her three ex-husbands. The woman is a psychotic bitch."

I was still unable to say anything. Hannah seemed to enjoy that I was the one who didn't know what to say. She continued and added "I know it's wrong from him to cheat on her, but she kind of deserves it. She's is a real psychopath. "

I finally got myself together and took a deep breath. "What are you talking about?", I asked, and looked at her confused.

"You don't have to act so surprised now. Yes, the rumour is true. My father is cheating on his new girlfriend. So what? It is nobody's business., other than hers and my father's."

I shook my head, unable to look away from Hannah's incredible stupidity, "Her last three ex-husbands have been murdered?", I asked, trying to focus the conversation on the important part of what she had just said.

"Yes," she replied quickly and looked down at her fingernails, "And you think it was her?" I asked and tried looking her in the eyes.

Hannah suddenly looked uncomfortable again. She looked like she was actually scared to say something wrong. As if she was scared of what could happen next. Like she was scared to fail. To fail school, to fail college. To not succeed. Like she felt tense in a crowd. Like her father would never love her if she didn't succeed, and instead, loved a psychotic woman. She looked helpless.

"I ... I don't know. I don't think so. But I do think she had something to do with their deaths," she started nipping on her bottom lip again, and stared down at her feet uncomfortably. The usual aura that she had around her was a confident, mean, but insecure one. But the first two things that people usually characterized her with were gone. She was just a scared, insecure girl. And when I looked into her eyes, I found my former self.

"Hannah, please be honest. Are you afraid to be alone with her?" I responded and looked at her for some time, until she looked up and replied with a simple, "No."

"Okay," I looked directly at her and she looked back, "if you don't think it was her...who do you think it was?"

Now she looked down at the floor again and tapped with her high heels on the carpet. The sun had set a long time ago, but the warmth had remained for the evening hours. An open window opened and closed again and again near the front door. It was generally a very uncomfortable, almost creepy mood. I shivered slightly when the wind from outside reached us.

"I don't know. But I know that she once worked for Jack Cavanaugh. And as far as I know, he's not someone you want to work for. I heard, " she leaned forward and my shivers grew stronger by the way she said the next few words, "I heard he brings you to do things you never dared to think about. Things you are scared of."

Jack Cavanaugh. Jack Cavanaugh.

I knew that name.

And I knew his voice.

I swallowed.

I knew this man.

But at the moment when it was most important I had no idea who this man was.

I saw Hannah swallow and her fingernails bored themselves into her elbows. I realized that she started to freeze because of the cool air that came in through the open window. Her arms had layers of Goosebumps over them.

"I'm going to go up now. I'm warning you, do not to tell anyone about this conversation," her voice was just a hiss, and again, it was filled with arrogance and hatred. Like she was looking down on me. Though we shared the feeling of fear in this dark hour.

I nodded slowly and saw her walking towards the stairs, and expected to only see her slim figure from the back in the next couple of seconds when she turned around, and looked back at me.

"But Melea," she said and her eyes were watching me. They were suddenly different; they reminded me of Jace's hurt eyes.

"Thank you. No one has ever asked me how I feel about this," she whispered and I smile graced my face for a second. Then she ran up the stairs and left me standing in the hallway. I stared at the open window for a long time, trying to sort my thoughts. Trying to put the puzzle pieces together in my head. But no matter how much I concentrated, no matter how hard I tried - I couldn't remember this man.

When I opened the creaking bedroom door, I heard Veronica's loud breathing, that resembled a snore, and Sofia who turned to the other side of her bed.

"Hey," she whispered softly.

"Hey," I replied and laid down quietly in my bed. The warmth of the blanket gave me comfort. I always been the one to love a good riddle. And I always solved it. But this one didn't want to be solved by me.

I closed my eyes and tried to forget everything. I let myself drift off. Imagined that I was somewhere else. I heard the sound of waves crashing near the beach, the gentle wind, and I felt the warm water that surrounded my calves. I took a deep breath of fresh air in and was about to run into the middle of the ocean with a smile on my face, but when I opened my eyes I looked into two green ones. One resembled poison, the other a soul. I wanted to look up at the sky to look away from the eyes, but suddenly I was much smaller, my arms thicker and every step that I took was so little that it would take ages to get away.

"Hello," said a beautiful blonde woman who suddenly appeared next to the man with the poisoned and soul resembling eyes, "Nice to meet you."

She gave the man a swipe and looked at me again, "Jack."

"It's okay," he answered, rolled his eyes and shook my hand, "Nice to meet you."

But the corners of his mouth didn't twitch upwards saying these words. He just spat them out. He didn't mean them.

I startled. I put my hand over my mouth so I wouldn't wake anyone and slowly took it away after I calmed down. I had Goosebumps all over my body.

I knew this man. I knew that voice. I knew the person who probably had something to do with the murder of three men. Or murdered them himself. I knew a murderer.

And he was Mason's father.

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Peripeteia - a sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances; the point of no return. You cannot unknow what you know.