chiaroscuro

17

"Now you know the other thing."

Emery's awake, scrolling through her phone.

We've done this before. I wake up from some crazy dream and Emery just calmly sits there. Like a psycho waiting to kill someone. Calm but villainous.

"Goddamn," I say, burying my face in my pillow. "Can you not use magic for one damn second?"

"It's not magic," she says, "it's a skill."

I don't argue.

I don't really blame her for learning magic–skills–whatever– What Camrice did was...traumatizing. I mean, not the sex, but, like, the other stuff.

"So everything I just saw is true."

"Yes." She doesn't hesitate.

"And...those were your memories?"

"Yes."

"And...are you the only one who can do these, uh, skills?"

Emery furrows her eyebrows. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"Why did you even show me that?"

Emery swallows, her face nonchalant. "Why not?"

"Seriously, bitch." I sit up and cross my arms.

I always feel like Emery's hiding something. Her attitude is perplexing and her memory was traumatizing, yet she seems so calm all the time. And the glitch at the end of the memory...what was that? Just another complication to this mystery. Gray's still in jail for a murder she didn't commit (probably), Camrice's secrets, Emery's backstory, the glitch at the end of the memory, why Lev seems so familiar, the list just goes on.

I don't know how to fix any of this. Every mystery continues the next day–I don't see an end to this. I want answers–now. All this has to stop. Heaven was supposed to be like...heaven to me. It's starting to seem a lot like hell.

"Chiro!"

I squeeze my eyes shut. I try to focus on the buzz of students' voices around me instead of my paranoid brain freaking out.

What did I do this time?

I turn around hesitantly. "Yes?"

"Chiro, open your eyes."

Standing in front of me is Mrs. L. Her face is full of makeup and she's tightly clutching a folder, dodging students spilling from their dorms.

"I'm here to take you to detention," she continues. "Do you– No running!" Mrs. L glares at a kid with dragon wings.

"My bad!" they yell nervously, then quickly walk away.

"Come, now," Mrs. L says. I try not to groan.

Ugh, I forgot about detention. At least Camrice will be there. Oh, maybe I can ask her about what she wanted to tell me. Her secrets or whatever. Please, please let this turn out okay. I need today to be a good day. Can I still pray to God when I'm in Heaven? If He is even real. I hope He is. I really need help right now.

Camrice isn't there when Mrs. L and I arrive at the basement. The route we took was surprisingly short and only involved entering the elevator and pressing a combination of numbers. I think the first number was 7, but it might've been 8. Actually, maybe it was 9. Or 6. No, it was definitely 7. Or not.

Camrice's absence isn't the only thing that left me in a state of irritability. The basement is a mess. The floor's a shade of grayish-brown, the walls the same. Boxes are everywhere, dusty and piled up to the ceiling. The bodies certainly don't help the dismal place or my stomach.

I don't even want to describe the blood. Let me just give you a brief summary: splattered, dry, plentiful.

"I have to clean this up all by myself?" I don't let my jaw fall. The thought of the horrid smell of the decaying bodies entering my mouth makes my stomach churn even more. "Where's Camrice?"

"Missing," Mrs. L says calmly like it's no big deal. Like situations like this happen all the time. "She was not in her dorm."

"She didn't leave a note?"

Oh, fuck. Camrice, where are you? Please, NOT YOU TOO. Please, God, GOD I NEED YOUR HELP. I can't do this. I can't. I can't. I want to die but I would probably end up in somewhere like here–

"Not one that I could find," says Mrs. L's STILL CALM VOICE. "But a job like this shouldn't take long. Today you are just transporting the bodies into these bags." She pulls out three long plastic bags from her pocket. Then from the other pocket, a pair of gloves.

"Can't you just use magic?" I try not to focus on the plastic bags instead of the...bodies. The bodies that are not covered in blood and do not make me want to throw up at all.

"I could," she agrees. "But misbehaving students need to be punished in some way."

"And you couldn't think of any other way?"

Mrs. L sighs. "The truth is," she starts, "no one likes being near dead bodies. Especially ones such as these." She pauses, swallowing. "And especially since they bring back...memories."

Oh.

I guess I'm not the only one who doesn't like looking at these lifeless bodies.

"So why are you making me do such a treacherous task?" I cross my arms that feel so delicate for some reason.

"Because no one else wants to," Mrs. L snaps. She hands me the bags and gloves. "Get to work."

Without another word, she snaps her fingers and disappears.