She was supposed to be at my wedding.
I was supposed to attend hers.
Me
Ellis. I miss you.
Wish you were with me now.
It’s unlike me, but I shatter. A sob rips my chest open as thoughts of my best friend flood my mind. Memories from high school. Soccer. Boys. Vacations together. That time we sneaked out to go to a concert and narrowly escaped a group of men that was breaking car windows along the alleyway we parked on.
I get up and head to the bathroom in search of tissues to blow my nose. Sadness almost overwhelms me, and I sit in the stall for a while. Just crying.
Is this my life now?
One devoid of friendship and stuck in a marriage I didn’t ask for?
Where did I go wrong?
If I’m making such bad decisions at twenty, is there any hope for my future?
Apollo’s words about making thebestof a situation ring back to me, and I grimace. I’m not one to do that. I take the logical approach. What is mostlikelyto happen? And when it comes down to it, I think the worst. It’s hopeless.
After splashing water on my face, I take a long moment to clear my head, then return to my desk.
I freeze.
There’s an open book on my laptop.
One with ancient and disturbing sketches inside.
I flip over the front so I can see the title:Aeschylus: Prometheus Bound.
The page that was left has some sentences underlined neatly in ink.
He then set a great winged eagle upon him, and it fed on his immortal liver.
He now must suffer, till he be taught to accept the sovereignty of Zeus.
Hand to my throat, I flip around in time to spot a shadow disappearing into the darkened stacks. Like they were just standing there. I’m too breathless to scream. So I hurry toward the figure, ready to fight. To shout. To kick…Something.
Is it him?
The man from Thriller Thursday?
Ellis’s murderer?
But when I reach the threshold of the doors to the staircase, there’s no one. Not even an echo of a footstep.
I creep slowly back to my spot. Every bookcase I pass, I’m tense. Ready for someone to jump out at me.
It’s time to leave.
Hands shaking, I stuff everything I have into my bag and scurry down to the first floor. Before I reach the exit, Isa Montez, a third yearOmegastops me.
“Hey, Scout!” She never talks to me, so I freeze. I must look terrified.
“Hello.”
