Now what?
Do I message Derek? Is that the play here?
I start to pace in the small amount of space that isn’t taken up by my things but end up having to take my over-anxious self out into the main living area, even though I know Xavier will be watching me. After finding out about the cameras, I located each and every one. And even though there were only three, that is still more than anyone should have to deal with in their living space.
But once I found them, decisions had to be made.
Did I leave them there, so I at least know where they are? Or take them down and get into a battle of wills with Xavier over replacing them?
And what about Oakley, did I tell her?
In the end, I followed her like a creeper into our bathroom, because surely we would have privacy in there, and explained the situation to her. At first, she simply stared at me, blinking slowly like her mental process had malfunctioned and needed to reboot. Then she shrugged and said “kinky” and “not walking around naked in the dorm anymore,” like it was fucking normal for an ex-daddy to move in and set up cameras to watch a person when he isn’t physically here.
But also, what the fuck with the naked dorm-room strolls?
Whatever.
This is a whole lot of too much for me right now.
Which is why I want my fucking art supplies. I need to turn my brain off. I need to get everything in my head, out of it. Especially the stupid fucking gift that arrived with another goddamn note.
A Kindle. And not the base model, either. It’s in full-color with cellular connectivity and an account already attached, ready for me to download whatever books I want. Not that I need to download books for a while, since there are at least one hundred romance stories on there already, from a wide range of genres. It’s at least, if not more than, an entire year’s worth of reading.
And don’t even get me started on the note.
Emery,
You are owed 17 rewards. Please consider this your 3rd.
Hudson.
It took me a minute to figure out what the three were. The Kindle, the notebook, and… the box with the big satin bow I had yet to open. It was still on my desk. For some reason, I couldn’t. Something about the box was scary.
Realistically, I know it’s just an object. But it’s the meaning behind it, I guess.
My feet carry me in figure eights around the dorm as the knowledge that I need to contact Derek starts to loom larger and larger, like it’s my only option. He would have been the last person to see my things. He managed to pack everything else. It has to be in the apartment. I don’t know how I will feel if that’s not where they are.
Because if they’re not there, then they’re lost. Gone.
My entire history of thoughts and feelings, just poof, gone. For as long as I can remember, I’ve carried that trashy sketchbook with me everywhere I’ve gone, every group home, every foster home. It has everything in it. Just adding more and more sheets as I’ve gone along. And now it is potentially in the trash somewhere because that’s what it looks like. A collection of scrap pieces of paper fitted in among overly crowded sketch pages thatcould have multiple layers of drawings on them, just because I couldn’t find more paper and needed the outlet.
Every organ I possess aches at the thought, and I start to feel physically ill.
No, it’s fine. Derek will know where it is.
I’ll just send him a message, and he will reply and say that it’s in the apartment somewhere.
Yes. That’s exactly what’s going to happen.
Okay, cool.
Pausing my steps right in the middle of the dorm, I open my messages with Derek.
Me:My sketchpads and graphite set aren’t with my things from the apartment. Did you forget to pack them?
Unlike Xavier, my message doesn’t turn toreadstraight away. Which is totally okay. He is probably teaching a class right now. I’ll just go and…clean my room.
What feels like an eternity later, my phone lights up as I hang the last shirt in my closet, finally restoring my room to its semi-clean regular state.
