Nathianel

  He killed that woman, by the way. I went to his “family function” that he was supposedly rumored to be at, but he lied. He’s good at that.

  The party took place at some fraternity house with a few shirtless guys passed out on the front lawn. What a surprise. It was like a battlefield trying to get by, but I somehow managed to.

  The whole place reeked of alcohol and sweaty jocks who never showered and tried to mask the stench with body spray. There were a bunch of ladies and a few other students playing beer pong, some students playing Jenga. And let me tell you, the speakers couldn’t be any louder.

  I was searching and searching until I found him, talking to another girl. Let me guess, “a friend”. The two went up the steep staircase hand in hand together. She seemed to be some blonde bimbo who didn’t know any better, just looking for some fun, and got herself killed.

  I didn’t see it happen and of course I wouldn’t just let it happen, but the second that man stepped out of that bedroom covered in blood without her and then she miraculously had gone missing the next day? What else am I to expect? I’m not the type to investigate and to create commotion in a frat’s house with a bunch of hormonal young adults who were intoxicated and doing everything illegal. It wasn’t that easy to just “call the authorities”, hell, by the time they got there he could’ve disposed of the body. He probably did before he exited that bedroom.

  Okay, yes, I kind of sound like a stalker and almost like a bystander for not doing anything, but there wasn’t much I could do yet and I needed more evidence. Ever since the day I met him I had a hunch. I also get a weird kick out of taunting the bad and cruel and absolutely destroying their lives after being pricks. I guess I enjoy others getting justice too I suppose…

  I figured I had all the intel and photos I needed and I left without a trace. It was also my excuse to leave, it stunk so bad. The cold breeze cooled my flushed skin, yet left the tips of my ears and nose pink. I stuff my hands in my pockets and I walk back to my own dorm.

  I had an assignment to work on and now an investigation to attend to. I am majoring in criminology in hopes I can find a job in crime analysis and investigation. It wasn’t what my family wanted, but I hope I can still make them proud. Well, make my dad proud.

  When I was younger I spent the majority of my time with my grandparents, no, all of my time with my grandparents and I rarely saw my mother or father. Whether it was work, travel, or work, it was mainly for work, they barely made any time for me. I wasn’t neglected, I don’t know just kinda…forgotten?

  Life is lonely when those you put effort into don’t reciprocate. I’m not trying to be the type to hurt someone. No one should have to be hurt, but that’s just what people do. Hurt.

  I step through the corridor and make my way up the wide staircase. It’s a little unfair how our facility was much larger than the others. Finally reaching my dorm, I found my best man working on his laptop. Rasheed and I have been close since freshman year of college, and we could tell each other almost anything.

  “Yo, Rasheed,” he swivels around in his chair and leans back, “Hey, man. How was the party?” He grins. God I hate the way he can read me sometimes.

  “Terrible.” I shift my voice to sound dry. Although I liked him and all, I wasn’t really in the mood to chit-chat and hoped he would pick up the hint. He did, but he kept pestering me anyway.

  “Really? Tell me about it?” He drags his voice out and I just hope, again, that he would take the fucking hint.

  I knew I could trust him since he’s the kinda guy who doesn’t really have anyone else to tell, but I wasn’t sure if this was something I could tell anybody.

  “There’s this sketchy kinda guy, always doing diabolical fucking things to women. What a joke, seriously.” His voice tenses and he perks up a bit. “You’re not trying to get involved are you? I mean you’re not qualified to investigate.”

  “So I should just remain silent?” He goes quiet, not knowing how to combat what I just said. He stops fighting.

  “I just think you should let the authorities handle it and not get hurt. Come on man, it’s risky…”

  I nod and take his words into consideration. I know damn well the authorities will just push it aside, but what do I know?

  He looks at me thoughtfully before speaking, “Hey, why not try to take your mind off things? Wanna come with me and some friends to this bar & grill down on Main Boulevard?” His chocolate brown eyes gleam with genuine interest and kindness. The jerk had a kind of face I couldn’t say no to.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I mean…I don’t really have anything else better to do.” He stares back at his screen with a smile and continues his programming or whatever it was. I, on the other hand, fell asleep and was out like a log.

  In the morning all I had was Forensic Science at 10:30 and Intro to Victimology at noon. I sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. Rasheed must’ve already left. I ruffled my hands through my hair. Damn I need a haircut.

  I hobble towards the bathroom and flick the light on. My eyes dart toward the mirror, looking at my frame. My fingers grip the countertop, and I sigh. Do I really look like that?

  I reach down to open the bathroom drawer, and I pull out a tube of toothpaste and my toothbrush. Afterwards I go to my closet and I pull out some sweats to throw on for my couple of classes. I run a hand through my messy hair, step into my doc martins and I head out the door.

  By the time I got to my class, students were already taking their seats. Mr. Anderson raised his voice, desiring for our attention. So harsh on everybody, but I like him.

  “Settle down.” He gruffs. Everyone sits down on their seat and pulls out their notebooks, while I pull out my earbud case and pop one earbud into my ear. I might be a jackass, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.

  We continue our lesson till we are dismissed and I get called to stay back with Mr. Anderson.

  “Yes?” I try to downplay my annoyance but it only sounds passive aggressive. Mr. Anderson raises a brow. I pipe down my tone a bit and he sits back in his black leather chair.

  “I noticed you were a bit distracted during my teachings, Mr. Wilkins. Was it not to your liking?” I look away and he places his glasses down and rubs his temple. “Look, you’re struggling it seems, but I don’t know why. You’re a good kid. Just… don’t get involved with the wrong choices.”

  I spaced out and my attention wasn’t there, but I heard every word and took it to heart. I just want someone to be proud of me. Anybody.

  I stomp my way towards my next class. It was like an icy tundra outside but I made it safely into the next building. Just one more class, Nathaniel.

  I straightened out my jacket, took a breath from the emotional rollercoaster Mr. Anderson just put me through, and walked into Intro to Victimology. Since it was an extra curricular class, and I had less time in this class, I sucked it up and took out my notebook.

  Ms. Keely was a shorter woman, with short loose coils and a warm deep complexion. She seemed to be kind and much more passive than Mr. Anderson. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. Could totally pass for a college student.

  She had red rectangular glasses on and she was wearing a red denim dress accompanied by a matching pair of heels.

  “Welcome to your first and only term of Intro to Victimology. Those of you currently attending this class this trimester are only beginners to this subject, and I expect nothing more. I am willing to work with you and I’m here to always help you.” She steps around her desk, moving around her screen, displaying some curriculum rules and her expectations. Some minor things on how she graded as well.

  “Now. I would just like to get to know all of you for our first day and something that you’re interested in. Just fill out the slips that I pass out to you,” she steps around the class, placing a notecard on each row, “and turn them in to me at the end of class. I’m not expecting you to write me an autobiography, but just some things off the tip of the iceberg.” She flashes me a warm smile before walking past.

  Students begin to write while I’m still sitting here drawing my bullet points. The room is quiet, with only the smallest of scribbles to be heard. I finish my notecard and place it on her desk. The rest of the class and I wait for the final student before she speaks up.

  “I posted the curriculum online and you each have a textbook you may borrow for the vocab. Have a great rest of your day!”

  The remainder of the day I stalk social media for this guy and I head to the gym. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been, but I seriously need to work this dad bod off. I walk to the gym in my regular clothes. I wasn’t necessarily interested in working out, but it felt needed today if I was going to a bar & grill.

  I started with the bench press, then did a bit of core building and ab workouts. One rep after the other, one more jumping jack, another plank, until I felt…better. I needed to keep going, even though I felt like throwing up. I did a jog on the treadmill and afterwards, I knew my body was spent. Not drinking tonight.

  I hit the showers and I look at my body in the mirror, then I glance at the other guys in the bathroom; flexing. I step into the shower and I shut the curtain. I couldn’t bear to look at myself anymore.

  I finally made it back to my dorm room. Soaking wet with frizzy hair that desperately needed a comb and hairdryer. Rasheed greeted me with open arms and although I’m not a hugger, I was in desperate need of one.

  “Let’s go have fun, you teddy bear.” He throws me some baggy black jeans, a white muscle shirt, and a grey zip-up jacket.

  “Guys night!” Rasheed chants and I zip-up my sweatshirt. It was way too cold to have it unzipped.

  We walk out and meet a few other guys along our way to the Bar & Grill, strutting along the sidewalk. The two other guys were a few other geeks like my boy, Rasheed, but damn they had a high alcohol tolerance. We sat down and ordered a few drinks, each of us showing our IDs.

  After ordering we sat in silence for a moment to enjoy our drinks, then one of the guys started to share what happened to them. Travis, the guy who was yapping, ordered a carne asada, Stephan ordered a club sandwich and Rasheed forced me to get a cheeseburger with him.

  To be fair, it sounded delicious but I wasn’t in the mood to eat. I had too much on my mind, between school and life in general. Rasheed put it all on his tab. He didn’t have to.

  I stepped away to use the bathroom. They waited for me outside and we started to walk back. The cold silent breeze cools my skin.

  “Did you hear that,” I ask, my body now suddenly on edge. Which one of the guys replies with, “it’s the sound of all the girls screaming for me.”

  Rasheed rolled his eyes, “Yeah, whatever.” Despite all the jokes, something genuinely seemed wrong.

  I’m gonna go check it out.