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Authors: V. M. Black
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Almost everyone had gone home. Everyone who had a home. Without the other students, there was no normal here to return to. The elevator’s ding echoed in the emptiness.
When I reached the fourth floor, I found the door to my apartment propped open, and I could heard voices from the hall. Cautiously, I stuck my head around the doorframe. Two police officers were standing inside the living area, a woman poking through the kitchen cabinets while a man scribbled on a notepad.
“ Hello?” I asked cautiously.
The man looked up, rubbing one hand over his close-cropped hair. “What’s your name, miss?”
“ Cora Shaw,” I said, my stomach sinking.
Lisette had called them, just as she had threatened.
“ How may I help you?” I asked stiffly as I fumbled in my pocket for my driver’s license.
“ We’re here to do a wellbeing check following up on a potential missing persons report. We got a call that you are seriously ill and dropped out of contact for a period of—” He checked a piece of paper in his hands. “Five days.”
“ Yes, that would be correct,” I said carefully. I had my lie ready. “I was at a private clinic for an experimental cancer treatment. It was supposed to be an outpatient procedure, but there were complications, and I was admitted and put into an induced coma. I wasn’t able to reply to my friends’ messages until today. But I’ve been discharged now, and I’m perfectly all right. See? That’s me.”
I showed him my dr iver’s license, and he looked it over carefully.
“ Good to hear that you’re okay, miss,” the officer said, a hint of boredom in his voice.
“ The treatment was effective, so I am more than okay, thank you.” It was more than I had to say, but it was too important not to share, however uninterested the officer was.
“ Glad to hear it, miss,” he repeated, flipping his notepad closed. “We’ll put in our case report that we talked to you, and that should close it out.”
“ Thanks,” I said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m still recovering, and I’d like to try and get some sleep.” That part wasn’t entirely a lie, but mostly, I wanted them out of the apartment. I needed to be alone with my thoughts in the closest thing I had left to a home now that my Gramma’s house was empty.
“ No problem, ma’am, and thank you for your cooperation,” he said. “Your friend Lisette Bonner filed the report, so she would appreciate your call.” He put his pen into his breast pocket, and he left, the woman following after.
I pushed the doorstop out of the way so that the door swung shut behind them, locking automatically. I started to take off my sunglasses, but the glare from the windows was still too powerful until I had lowered the blinds to a crack. I folded up the aviators and put them on the kitchen counter.
Alone. I was alone in my own space for the first time since I had gotten into the Bentley bound for Dorian Thorne’s house. I flopped onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the seconds ticked by, stretching into minutes, and willed my mind to be blank.
Willing all traces of Dorian away.
I made it, Gramma, I thought. I’m alive. The leukemia’s gone. It’s going to be okay.
Had so much really changed? My life was still here, waiting for me. I still had my classes and my friends and my plans for my future. Whatever else had happened, those were all the same.
I snagged my laptop from the coffee table. I needed an appointment with Dr. Robeson to confirm that I really was getting better. I fully believed it, but I knew not to trust any confidence that came from Dorian Thorne. I flipped my laptop open, then navigated to Dr. Robeson’s appointment scheduling. Next opening: Friday. I punched my information in. Then I logged into the campus Health Center website and made an appointment there, too. Dorian had said that I couldn’t get pregnant, but again, I had little reason to trust him.
He was gentle, part of my mind whispered. He
When I reached the fourth floor, I found the door to my apartment propped open, and I could heard voices from the hall. Cautiously, I stuck my head around the doorframe. Two police officers were standing inside the living area, a woman poking through the kitchen cabinets while a man scribbled on a notepad.
“ Hello?” I asked cautiously.
The man looked up, rubbing one hand over his close-cropped hair. “What’s your name, miss?”
“ Cora Shaw,” I said, my stomach sinking.
Lisette had called them, just as she had threatened.
“ How may I help you?” I asked stiffly as I fumbled in my pocket for my driver’s license.
“ We’re here to do a wellbeing check following up on a potential missing persons report. We got a call that you are seriously ill and dropped out of contact for a period of—” He checked a piece of paper in his hands. “Five days.”
“ Yes, that would be correct,” I said carefully. I had my lie ready. “I was at a private clinic for an experimental cancer treatment. It was supposed to be an outpatient procedure, but there were complications, and I was admitted and put into an induced coma. I wasn’t able to reply to my friends’ messages until today. But I’ve been discharged now, and I’m perfectly all right. See? That’s me.”
I showed him my dr iver’s license, and he looked it over carefully.
“ Good to hear that you’re okay, miss,” the officer said, a hint of boredom in his voice.
“ The treatment was effective, so I am more than okay, thank you.” It was more than I had to say, but it was too important not to share, however uninterested the officer was.
“ Glad to hear it, miss,” he repeated, flipping his notepad closed. “We’ll put in our case report that we talked to you, and that should close it out.”
“ Thanks,” I said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m still recovering, and I’d like to try and get some sleep.” That part wasn’t entirely a lie, but mostly, I wanted them out of the apartment. I needed to be alone with my thoughts in the closest thing I had left to a home now that my Gramma’s house was empty.
“ No problem, ma’am, and thank you for your cooperation,” he said. “Your friend Lisette Bonner filed the report, so she would appreciate your call.” He put his pen into his breast pocket, and he left, the woman following after.
I pushed the doorstop out of the way so that the door swung shut behind them, locking automatically. I started to take off my sunglasses, but the glare from the windows was still too powerful until I had lowered the blinds to a crack. I folded up the aviators and put them on the kitchen counter.
Alone. I was alone in my own space for the first time since I had gotten into the Bentley bound for Dorian Thorne’s house. I flopped onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the seconds ticked by, stretching into minutes, and willed my mind to be blank.
Willing all traces of Dorian away.
I made it, Gramma, I thought. I’m alive. The leukemia’s gone. It’s going to be okay.
Had so much really changed? My life was still here, waiting for me. I still had my classes and my friends and my plans for my future. Whatever else had happened, those were all the same.
I snagged my laptop from the coffee table. I needed an appointment with Dr. Robeson to confirm that I really was getting better. I fully believed it, but I knew not to trust any confidence that came from Dorian Thorne. I flipped my laptop open, then navigated to Dr. Robeson’s appointment scheduling. Next opening: Friday. I punched my information in. Then I logged into the campus Health Center website and made an appointment there, too. Dorian had said that I couldn’t get pregnant, but again, I had little reason to trust him.
He was gentle, part of my mind whispered. He
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