Act 1, Scene 10

I closed the office door quietly behind me and grimaced at the mess we'd made. When I turned around to face the exit back to the party, my breath hitched. Looking down the corridor, it was as though the whole building had somehow extended.

The door felt further, the space grew darker and the night quieter.

The rain had stopped outside and so the sound of our breath vibrated against every surface, making it feel like faint whispers in my ear. Even Julien looked creeped out beside me as his eyes were wide and calculating the surrounding area.

The lights flickered on and off, a sour yellow then plunging us into a serene darkness as the thunder rumbled in the distance.

We faced one another and held a silent conversation with our eyes, a matching hazel that most Monet's shared. When we were very little, Julien and I would trick our friends at Sunday school into believing that we had twin telepathy. We'd stay up the night before and practise sentences over and over again to say at the same time until people eventually began to believe us, both that we were twins and that we could read one another's minds. 

We'd practised our telepathy so much that sometimes it felt as though I actually could read what he was thinking. And now, we were thinking the same thing.

"I'm not scared," he defended.

"I never said you were," I replied with a raised brow.

"You're egging me on!"

"I'm doing no such thing."

Julien nudged my side and puffed out his chest before taking the first step forward with me hot on his heels. Though he tried to remain calm, I saw how his body sort of hunched over as though he were trying to hide. Normally, a reaction like this to the dark would have granted me a free pass to tease Julien but with a killer on the loose, it seemed only right to be afraid.

"Surely, it wasn't this scary on the way to the office," Julien murmured and checked over his shoulder every half a second to see whether I was still there or not. "Tell me a story."

I thought about it for a moment as a shiver ran up my spine and I stuck close to my cousin's back. "In Greek mythology, there was a titan called Prometheus who cared for and sympathised with human life. When Zeus had denied the people the pleasure of fire, Prometheus climbed up onto Mount Olympus and stole the fire from Hephaestus, the god of fire's, workshop and gifted it to the humans. When Zeus found out about this, he was far from happy; he was furious, in fact. He chained Prometheus onto a rock on top of a tall mountain where every day he'd send an eagle to eat Prometheus' liver. The titan remained on top of the mountain, suffering for thirty years before Heracles found and released him."

Julien remained quiet before he groaned. "That was a terrible story."

I shrugged.

"You can see the past and that's what you decided to tell me? About some guy's liver being eaten every day for thirty years?" We neared the exit in slow steps and my heart sped up with every second. "Well? Are you going to tell me the deeper meaning of that story? Why you told me that right now?"

"No reason," I laughed shakily. "I'm just cold and thought of fire."

Julien hummed into the silence and the shuffling of our feet quickened as I slightly swayed.

After a beat, I added, "it's also a story without a happy ending, like many stories from Greek Mythology."

"At least he escaped," Julien offered.

I snorted. "After thirty years? Imagine the trauma."

He raised a brow with an amused smile. "So what does the no happy ending have to do with our situation right now?"

"Prometheus was tormented for thirty years for doing what he thought was the right thing. Then, Zeus punished him for doing what he thought was unacceptable. So, who was right? Of course, we'd say Prometheus, but then Zeus would say himself, right? The villains always think they're the hero."

"Please get to your point. I'm impatient."

"I'm just trying to get into the mind of the killer."

I heard his intake of breath, sharp like a knife as it cut through the silence. "Don't do that, Charlotte."

His change in attitude shocked me to the core, clearing a fog in my head.

"Don't get your mind in there, it's not worth it." His eyes were bugging out of his head at this point and I couldn't respond, only nodding dumbly.

It looked as though he was about to add something when a shrill sound interrupted, causing us to bump into one another as we jumped in fright. It was the high pitched sound of a phone ringing on the wall.

A single strip of dim yellow light stood against the brick wall and guiding our way. I shook my head at Julien, knowing that his desire to answer the phone might have been stronger than I could've held back. 

"It's not for you," I reprimanded. "Let's keep walking, we're almost there."

He nodded distractedly and I practically dragged his arm away. When the ringing stopped, plunging us back into silence, it was jarring. My heart rate spiked as we turned the corner and the ringing began again, except this time it came from the telephone in front of us, as though it were following.

"This is fate. We have to answer," Julien pleaded. Just a second ago, he was shaking in fear but now his curiosity had taken over. I was glad he was no longer frightened but his wonder was a pain in my ass. They said that satisfaction brought the cat back but if the cat was called Julien, I would have throttled it before the satisfaction even had a chance to kick in.

Julien moved towards the telephone and the light above it created deep shadows on the receiver, giving it an eery edge that made the hairs on my arms stand tall.

He reached out carefully as though he were the star of a dramatic Hollywood horror film before quickly grasping it into his hand and pulling it to his ear.

"Hello?" He called. For a few seconds, we waited in a complete silence that seemed to drag along forever. I wanted him to say something, to move or to at least breathe. But he didn't. Julien stayed perfectly still as his eyes remained trained on the numbers of the telephone.

Slowly, he turned towards me and pulled the phone away from his face. "I-it's for you," he whispered.

I frantically searched his eyes for the sprinkle of amusement. I begged for it to be a joke but then I looked down at his hand that shook slightly, at his flared nostrils and chest that heaved with shaky breaths, and I knew he wasn't acting.

I wasn't sure why, but I took the phone from him. It was cold to touch and the wire that connected it to the box tugged as I put it to my ear and sighed quietly. 

"Y-yes?" 

"Lottie. I see you-"

Then, it cut off and my blood ran cold.

X X X

Khaleel was a sight for sore eyes after Julien and I had scrambled our way back from the drama block and back to the party. I recognised the voice on the other end of the telephone, yet I couldn't place my finger on it. It was a man, though, that much was certain but all this thinking made my mind numb.

It was a man who claimed he had seen me. The same feeling of ice-cold water being poured over my body that I got when I saw the photo of Khaleel and me through the window, washed over. I felt violated of my privacy and had to force myself to breathe properly as my cousin and I sprinted through the drizzle of rain to get back to the party. I had only seconds to pull myself together again before being bombarded by people in this party setting. It made the bile rise from my throat.

Somebody on this floor of the boy's dormitory could have been Elijah's killer and the possibility seemed far more real now than ever.

I couldn't let the relief of being back in the light wash over me as Vincent, Khaleel's roommate, and his rugby friends approached Khaleel with sneers. There wasn't much difference in height between the group and him but while their t-shirts were filled out with as much muscle a group of 17-18 year olds could have, Khaleel was quite the opposite. Francis stepped back, swaying with the music as he looked anywhere but at the group harassing the new boy.

Frustration and fury flickered in my stomach. Had I not just come back from that horrible phone call then maybe the sight wouldn't have bothered me so much, but it did now.

Leaving Julien behind me, I marched on over with Hephaestus' fire in my narrowed eyes. Vincent, Khaleel's own roommate, watched as one of his friends with long red hair pointed his finger at my friend and pushed it into his chest with a scoff.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, stopping beside the group.

Khaleel seemed flushed and lost as his eyes looked anywhere but at me.

"Mini Monet," Vincent announced, surprised. "I thought you'd left."

"Is that why you're picking on the new kid? Because I'd left?"

The redhead took his finger away from Khaleel's chest and instead settled his hand on my shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting manner.

"Listen, Monet," Vincent began from behind his friend. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as his brows turned down patronisingly towards me. "We're just asking him a few questions. We need to know where he came from, why he got kicked out of his last school and all that stuff."

I brushed off the redhead's hand and looked at the group incredulously.

"We just need to know you're safe. With all these deaths, we want to make sure you're not in any trouble if we can help it. You're a little lady, easily abducted."

I actually laughed at Vincent's words that were dependant on the fact that I couldn't take care of myself - which I could.

"Wow," I replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm so thankful for my knights in shining armour. Would you like a Blue Peter badge to go with that?"

The redhead spluttered. I knew they weren't here to protect me as they said. No, they'd been keeping tabs on Khaleel even before we were friends and just needed an excuse to give him a hard time.

"It doesn't matter, we think your little boyfriend here's a fairy anyway," the redhead announced as snickers erupted from his gang behind him.

Without thinking, I pushed my hands against his chest and hard. He only stumbled back a few steps from the shock but it sent the message. It was stupid of me to do. I always thought before I did something but this time, I didn't. It was probably because of the Jack Daniels that rushed through my veins and it was difficult to tell right now whether I'd pay the price for that or not.

Vincent's expression hardened as he looked down at me. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you, Mini Monet."

I scoffed, throwing all caution into the wind. "Bog off! Seriously, all of you, get lost!"

Vincent blinked, then opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the shrill sound of a scream. 

My heart stopped.

I whipped my head around to the sound of the shriek as every nerve in my body set aflame. I didn't spare a second glance at Vincent and his goons, or Khaleel who seemed defeated or even Francis who'd slunk into the background with a guilty expression from not stepping in sooner.

I rushed down the corridor to where a large group of people had congregated. With hands to their mouths in shock and arms that clutched at one another. I pushed through to see what it was that had started the fuss and gasped at the sight.

Hanging from the door of room number seven was a noose, knotted tightly around the neck of a mannequin that hung lifelessly.

The sight made my lungs heave for air and my stomach churn. As the sounds of voices around me dissolved into nothing, I could only look at the chilling sight as my throat burned. From the noose tied so firmly, the mud that decorated the legs as though it had been dragged through the dirt here. 

Everyone around me was a suspect now and I felt my skin burn with the fear that I tried to push to the back of my mind.

As the mannequin swung back and forth, the familiar fog evaded my sight as the telltale sign of my visions took over. I let it.

I heard the grunt of frustration, the smell of ink, and the darkness of a wardrobe that the mannequin had been stuffed into. The feelings of excitement but also stress as it buzzed through my veins and then I heard the sound of a camera shutter behind me, ripping me from the past.

I turned quickly with wide eyes just as a camera lowered to reveal Nora Takahashi behind it with a mask of indifference. Nothing in her eyes, no pull to her lips or her eyebrows. Nothing.

I opened my mouth to reply but exhaustion took over and the world dissipated into black before me.

What really shocked me more than anything else of the situation though, was the photograph sellotaped onto the face of the mannequin. It had been folded neatly like somebody had tucked it into their pocket for most of the day, just getting ready for this moment. 

It was a photograph of me.