There Will Be Blood (not mine)

37. Pyscho-Chemical Torture

JUSTIN POV

I had watched this damned video probably a thousand times in two days. What else was I supposed to do?

I hadn't left the apartment and barely ate anything. I had become a recluse, a hermit, a bum; whatever you want to call it. The point of the matter was that I had been unhealthily sitting in front of my computer for what seemed like years.

I scratched my stubbly jaw and played the tape again. The mechanics never changed, but I felt like I was going to miss something if I didn't review it every five seconds.

The man with dark hair and indistinguishable features turned the corner of Maddie's long hallway. He was carrying a large duffel bag and was just strolling along, like he actually belonged there. He even passed a student on her phone, but she didn't even give him a second thought.

Couldn't she see he didn't belong there?

The man pulled out a standard lock picking set from his coat and shoved the tools into the handle of room 913-Maddie's room- before stepping in.

I sped up the tape so that an hour or so went by. I stopped it and watched the man leave Maddie's room with glove-covered hands and the same duffel bag as before. Like earlier, he walked down the hall as if nothing had happened. He didn't even blink or twitch.

This was the part of the video when my breathing always increased, and my blood started to boil.

I closed my eyes and ran a hand over my heart, which was beating furiously. It had been for the past couple of days. I could feel the raised scribe of my tattoo under my fingertips and tried to settle my thundering heart.

I took several deep breaths and pushed the pain out of my chest.

Then, I played the tape again.

I had no idea who he was. I had never seen him before. I could see his face. I knew what he looked like, but that was it. I couldn't find him in any database that I knew of, although, I was working my fingers to the bone trying to find out.

The door of the library opened softly, but I didn't bother raising my head.

"Justin?" Maddie's voice was thick with sleep. "What are you doing in here?"

"I'm working," I answered.

I heard her feet lightly pad over to me, and she enveloped my body in her arms, resting her chin on my shoulder. "You should be in bed."

"I can't. I feel like I'm missing something."

"You've been watching this thing for hours. You haven't even eaten."

"I want to protect you," was my robotic answer.

"You are and you're doing a good job, but you need to rest."

"I slept three hours last night." I typed on the keyboard, going through the police database and tried to match pictures.

"Three hours?" she asked, scolding.

"Medically speaking, that's all the human body needs."

"Justin, this isn't healthy. Let's go to bed." Maddie took my hand and tried to pull me up from the chair.

"No, I can't. I'm almost through," I tried to placate her, "just give me another hour."

She gave me a suspicious look on the other side of the desk. "Do you really expect me to believe that? That's what you said last night and you still didn't come to bed."

"I'm fine."

"You're getting sick. You look like you're about to fall over."

"I just need to find out who he is. I won't be able to rest until I do."