Conner's Game (Sample Only)

2 - The Monster in the Closet

Bailey

I hear the moan from inside the Bio Lab's supply closet and shiver in disgust. Honestly, this school is filled with pervs. I stomp past the door, hoping that my footsteps would weird out the couple in the closet. As I go further, I hear another groan, this one ending in a whimper.

That doesn't sound too pleasurable. Was someone in pain? Suddenly, Trey's face swims in front of me, sneering in disgust as his friends shove me into an empty classroom and barricade the door, just for kicks. What if the person in the closet was another one of their victims? What if the bullies at C State are upping their game from childish pranks and smashing inanimate objects to actually hurting someone?

"Shoot," I mumble, turning to the door and eyeing the knob with trepidation. I don't want to see some other students doing the nasty. Can I walk away? What is my moral aptitude today? Another soft word, a curse, drifts from behind the door, and I'm decided.

I slowly open the door. A soft growl greets me, and I freeze. Is there a dog in the closet? How the heck did that happen? Why did that happen? Why didn't I go to MIT?

"Hello?" I ask. I fully expect two voices to shriek at me to go away or a dog to lunge at my face, but all I get is another groan of pain. I feel like a dumb girl. It's not a dog; it's a person, obviously.

"OK, oh my goodness, um... do you... do you need help?" I take a step into the closet. It is pitch black. Even with the light from the hallway, I can barely see anything past four feet. I hold the newly-stitched straps of my messenger bag tightly. (My old backpack doesn't fit everything I need, so I carry both). I take two more steps, skimming my hand on the wall for a light switch. Finding nothing, I pull my phone out and fiddle with it until I give up on finding the flashlight app. I know it's on here, but the glow from the screen will have to do.

"Hello?" I ask again as I shine my phone deeper into the space. This is an abnormally large supply closet. No wonder it's so popular for students to sneak off to.

I see a mop, a huge bucket, and shelves upon shelves of carefully labeled boxes. I travel deeper, past the shelf of paper towels and protective glasses, and finally, I see the mass of a human body. I almost drop my phone when he (or she) groans again.

"Oh, God, do you need help?" I dumbly repeat my last question as I hurry over and fall to my knees next to the person curled into the fetal position at the back of the closet. From what I can see in the dim light of my phone, his head is turned toward the floor, so I can't see his face. All I can tell is that he is definitely a he. His hands are clutching his stomach, and as I watch, they clench tightly, too tightly, on the flesh underneath his black t-shirt.

"Stop, you'll hurt yourself," I tell him, placing my hands over his.

His hands jerk away to cradle his head, and I peel up his shirt and tentatively brush my fingertips over his stomach. Deep purple and black bruising coat his skin, and I swallow reflexively. "OK, just stay still. I'm going to go get help," I whisper. I am horror-struck. These bruises are awful, I can tell even blind in the dark that this boy must be in awful pain.

I start to stand when a hand lashes out, grabbing my wrist. One tug and my palm hits his stomach. I look up, startled out of my mind with how fast this man is, only to be greeted with a familiar face.

"Conner?" I say in disbelief. In the sparse light, his eyes look black and creepy as heck. His entire body shudders, the muscles tensing as he gnashes his teeth. My morals suck.

"Don't leave," he rasps out. His hand is firm on my wrist, keeping my hand touching his warm abdomen. I start to blush when I realize that I am touching the bare skin of the best abs at Caluna University. I hadn't even realized how muscled they were in the distraction of his bruises. He's all hard lines and ridges. Oh, my goodness.