What am I missing.
My alarm goes off for the last thirty minutes left before they shut the kitchens for food and at the same time my stomach growls in protest. I don’t have time for a bath now but if I hurry, I can still get something in me.
My phone bings.
At leastthat takes the pressure off, and I can take a quick shower, not only do I feel eyes on me even when I am the only one in here, I am slick with sweat. Hopefully a freezing cold shower will make me feel better.
I rush over to my desk and open the bottom drawer I haven’t used yet. I will hide the note in there for now and investigate later, maybe I can convince Corden to look at the security cameras in my staircase to find out who posted it. As I pull open the empty drawer, I realise it isn’t as empty as I first thought. I always use the dining hall or the common room to do my work, so this desk has barely been touched, which is why I have never noticed the object rolling back and forth in front of me.
I reach in and grab the pink pen and my eyes widen in shock. It might seem like your everyday ballpoint pen, something that wouldn’t draw anyone’s attention normally. But it has mine.
“No way,” I whisper to myself.
I press the side of the cap and sure enough the very end of it lights up like a torch. I pull the cap off completely and smirk when I try to write a word on my notebook open on the desktop. Nothing happens. It’s as though the pen has run out of ink. I know better.
I once again click the button that turns on the light and sure enough, my invisible words have become visible.
I start to laugh, but then realisation hits me.
This is Marlowe’s. Or…was.
I examine the room I am in with new eyes.
“Holy shit. This was Marlowe’s room,”
I look back down at the pen in my hands. If this was here and Marlowe was the one using it, then I just found the best evidence since getting here.
I quickly flick the main lights off in my bedroom but keep the pen light on. With the age of the building and my small window, the room isnow shroud in darkness. I rush around all the surfaces that came with the room, shining the UV light on anywhere she may have written something down.
We used to do this to each other. It was something we picked up after that day with the vase. The day we weren’t allowed to spend much time together without being under supervision. Delphine took Marlowe on a shopping trip but of course I wasn’t allowed to go, but Marlowe brought me back something this time. An invisible ink pen. It wasn’t out of the goodness of Delphine’s heart, the pack came with two pens, so Marlowe shared one with me. For months afterward we would write each other little notes and pictures around the house, something to make the other smile or even a game of noughts and crosses on a mirror until it was wiped away by the maids.
No one had a clue we were communicating so much. When they eventually ran out of ink a new pen took its place, and we continued that way until Marlowe left for Marrowton Academy. Yes, the communication slowed down as the resentment came between us, and the more Delphine got into her daughter’s head, but they are still my favourite memories I share with Marlowe.
I push all the books and paper off my desk and scan the surface. No words but there are a lot of doodles, hearts and flowers. Nothing of importance that I can see but I will come back to it. I run over to the bedside tables. Nothing.
The windows. Nothing.
The bathroom counters and mirror above the sink. Nothing.
Finally, I make my way over to the large, golden framed mirror beside the door. I shine it on the surface, but there isn’t anything. My shoulders drop in defeat.
I really thought I was onto something.
As I go to switch off the light from the pen it passes over the ornate lamp on the side table. A load of numbers appears written on the surface.
“Bingo,” I smile to myself, holding the UV closer.
NW.598534.EW.233879.SW.723144.WW.382946
My brows furrow as I grab my phone and quickly make a note of the random letters and numbers, then type them into google, but nothing that comes up has any relevance.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I see a message appear in the drop down from Corden asking where I am.
“Shit,” I forgot about meeting Corden.
I type out a response and grab my bag from the back of the chair before rushing from my room. I have no idea what I found but it clearly means something to Marlowe if she had to write it down in the invisible ink.
How fucking weird is it that I am currently living in Marlowe’s old room.
