-Zoey’s POV-

 

“And this is my dorm.” Laura let me into the cramped room that couldn’t have been all that much bigger than my own bedroom. There were two beds, each resting against one side of the wall, a window serving as a room divider, as well as two small cupboards which I imagined contained most of the clothing that both herself and her roommate used.

“Intimate,” I said.

“Sure is.” She leaned on the door. “But if you really want to move out of your mom’s place like you said, then you’ll have to get used to being intimate.”

I took the opportunity to walk in and take a look around. There appeared to be two religious paintings on the left wall of the room, hanging over the bed. On the side table next to the bed, I spotted more religious objects such as a book of scripture and a holy lockets resting comfortably. Lawrence certainly wasn’t lying about her religious devotion. I took the moment to sit on her bed and stare at the girl herself while adjusting my glasses.

“By the way, Enzo goes here too, right?” I asked.

“Enzo? Who’s that again?”

“Football team, a year below you, dating Krista…”

“Oh, him? I think so. I haven’t really seen him around much, though.”

Well, that’s that. Seems like Lawrence was worried about nothing. It’s almost as if I knew it the entire time. His obsession with his sister’s purity creeped me out to no end. It was almost as bad as everything related to Tristan Collins. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder why she was standing so awkwardly over by the door. Did she not want me to stay here? It appeared to me as if she was waiting for me to satisfy my curiosity so that we could leave as soon as possible. And if that were the case. How interesting.

“Come on, have a seat. Let’s chat for a little bit,” I said.

She looked through the door and into the empty hall, pausing for a moment to consider her position, then closed the door behind her. It was the first time since we’d met up today where I’d seen visible cracks in that cold exterior of hers.

Indecisiveness.

Anxiety.

She probably figured that we were only swinging by to take a look at the dorms. And yet I pushed past that. A foreign entity had invaded her private living space and was making itself at home. It’s no surprise that she was unsettled. But for me, it wasn’t a question of if she was or wasn’t on edge. It was how much could I push until I got her to voice that displeasure. Or would she play little miss perfect and let me do as I pleased without setting up a single boundary?

She was proud of her abstinence, and yet I had known her as a doormat from my time at Deer Valley High. She was taken advantage of and walked over more than someone of her reputation should have been. But how could sex be any different? How has she managed to protect that purity of hers for so long? It was a contradiction that required reconciliation.

“Come,” I said, tapping the spot next to me on the bed.

If ever there were a time that Laura smiled, it would probably be a moment in time when she genuinely meant it. However, the only expression I’d ever seen on her face was one of apathy. She always wore an unreadable face, no matter where she was or who she was talking to. But that’s exactly why the look of worry on her face was so palatable to me. Seeing that stone cold demeanor crack made her all the more appetizing. The impulse to devour her where she stood was difficult to contain.

“What did you want to chat about?”

“Nothing in particular,” I said. “I just need to rest my legs for a bit.”

“Oh, sure.”

Seeming reassured, she decided to take the seat next to me. In that moment, I scooted up closer to make sure that we were just a breath apart.

“Gum?” She held out a stick for me.

“Is there something wrong with my breath? Why do you keep offering me gum?”

“Oh, no not at all. I just enjoy sharing, that’s all. I’d feel kinda antsy if I didn’t offer you any.”

She’s a weirdo. Nothing’s going to change in an hour. What was going on in her head that made her think that this was okay? Whatever, it didn’t matter. I needed to switch the topic.

“So, how much do you and Lawrence talk these days?”

“How much?” she repeated. “Not much at all. We exchange a few messages every few days, but that’s about it. I don’t really know what’s going on in his life at all.”

“Does he know that you have a boyfriend?”

“No, no one outside my friend circle really does. My parents would be all over me if I told them, so I try to keep it to myself.”

“Hmm.”

“Why? How is he?” she asked.

“He’s doing well, just dealing with the fallout of the homecoming game.”

“Oh, that’s…”

Her voice halted when she noticed me reaching out to touch her cheek. She could only meet my gaze with the same wide eyes from when she asked me about my view on death. I could sense something in this expression that was absent from that time, though. A distinct, creeping fear.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Rice.” I pulled my hand away and showed her a single grain of rice.

“Oh, thank you.”

Of course, the rice hadn’t been stuck to her face at all, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Earlier,” I said, looking up at the religious paintings. “You asked what kind of atheist I was. You asked if I’m the kind who lives in denial through material pleasure, or the kind that struggles every day with the fact that I’m going to die.”

“I did,” she said, eyes shifting around. “And?”

“Well, I’m neither.”

“You can’t be neither.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“To be neither is to reject your humanity. If you’re not struggling with your own mortality, then you’re running from it. Those are your only two options. Why do rich men who have more money than they’ll ever need try so hard to increase their profit margins? Why do they want to make as much money as they possibly can? For what reason? For themselves? It’s not a matter of survival for them, they’re the most powerful men in the world. No. it’s because it provides an escape. The validation that their net worth and fame awards them is enough to help them forget about the mundane pointless existence they lead. No matter how much success you attain in life, you’re still human.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever met a nihilistic religious person before.”

“And you still haven’t. Of course there’s an afterlife. But if there are people who believe that there isn’t, then there’s only two paths for them, aren’t there?”

“You’re so adorable.” I leaned my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes shut. I had no idea what kind of expression she was wearing, but quite frankly I didn’t care. “But you’re wrong, Laura. There is a third option.”

“Oh really? What is it?”

“To live in service of an idea.”

“An idea?”

Judging by the sound of her voice, and by the fact that she hadn’t pushed me away as of yet, it was safe to assume that she was interested in what I was about to say. With that in mind, I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of her body warming mine as the flesh around her neck cupped my head.

“I hope you don’t take offense to this Laura, but from my point of view, that book on your tabletop is like a cup of wine. It intoxicates both men and women alike, allowing them, in their drunken stupor, to rationalize the terror that is their own mortality. God could exist, I think it’s more likely than most people would think. I would never be naive enough to say for certain that He doesn’t. It’s just, I’d just rather not live my life in service of Him when there’s so many other things I could do.”

“No offense taken,” she said. “After all, by your logic then everyone is drunk, Zoey. Whether it’s religious people, fans of celebrities, designer clothes, sports, TV shows, video games, movies, music, it’s all a cup of wine.”

“There’s a difference between drinking a cold beer at the end of the day and going through life with the constant buzz of a vintage red.”

“Is there?” she asked.

“No, I suppose there isn’t. Not if you think that those are the only two options, I mean.”

She didn’t respond. It sounded like she was carefully considering what I had been alluding at. The third option that she hadn’t thought of before. If she’s had this conversation with people before, then I suppose I should pat myself on the back for having given her something else to consider. “Have you figured it out yet?”

“No, and I don’t imagine I’ll like what you’re about to say either.”

My hand enveloped her own, allowing her skin to melt into mine and become one. She was tense, but she didn’t refuse my touch.

“I view the world through a historical lens, Laura Young. One that views major world events as occurring due to the influence of overwhelming personalities: great men who carved the world at their own whims.”

I felt her gaze on the top of my head. She was observing me more intensely than before.

“So that’s your answer to your life of mortality? To live on in the history books?”

“Not just to live there, but to be loved.”

 She seemed perplexed. ”Not anyone can die a Napoleon, you know.”

“Napoleon would be nice, but I’m aiming for at least Andrew Jackson.” I grinned. “Besides, I’m not just anyone, Laura. I thought we made that abundantly clear already.”

At my words, she finally pulled herself away from me.

“I don’t like this,” she muttered.

“No?”

“Andrew Jackson and Napoleon were exceptions among exceptions. To say that the only way for a human life to be validated is by living such an exceptional life is sad.”

“It is sad that everyone else’s life isn’t as grand or important as mine is, I agree.”

 “No, I’m saying it’s sad that you don’t care about other people. You don’t care about other people and their struggle with the looming insignificance of their own lives, just as long as they love you. That’s all their lives are worth to you, isn’t it? Tell me the truth, Zoey Brahm. You don’t actually care about other people, do you?”

I allowed her to seep in the silence of her own words; words I had left drifting through the air like bubbles in a bath. She condemned and besmirched the ideology of the girl that had just been on her shoulder with no remorse. It was the first time I’d ever seen the kind and calm Laura this rattled. And to be honest, it excited me more than anything else.

“Laura.”

“Great man theory. I’ve heard of it before. You’re a very masculine person, so I think it suits you. But if you think I’m not going to let you know how I- “

I grabbed her shoulder and forced her down to the bed.

“Wha-” She landed flatly on her back, and I pinned her down by her wrists, staring down into her dark eyes. She was flustered. The anxiety I’d carefully stirred up inside of her was now being morphed into something more tangible. “Zoey, what are you…?”

She feared me. Those eyes of hers that don’t betray the emotions inside of her were communicating a deep fear of what was about to happen next. It excited me. My face was probably contorting with a wicked joy that must have only exacerbated whatever she was feeling inside of her.

“Have you ever kissed your boyfriend, Laura?”

She looked away. “I haven’t. I’m not going to do that until my wedding day.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“What if he’s disappointed with your kissing after you finally get married?” I asked.

“I’m not going to marry someone who’d be disappointed with something like that.”

“You’d deprive him of his girlfriend’s lips for years only to disappoint him when he finally gets to taste them? Isn’t that selfish of you?”

“I…”

I licked my lips. “Why don’t we practice together?”

“Zoey…?”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with two girls sharing a friendly kiss. It’s just practice, right?”

“Are you serious? That’s…”

“A sin? Laura, sin is what makes us human. We live, we sin, we repent, we die. I’m familiar with what men are. The ravenous thing between their legs dictates their every thought and action. If a man can weather a sex-less, kiss-less relationship for you, then it can only mean that he must truly love you. Shouldn’t you do your part to not disappoint him by not letting inexperience poison your marriage? Because I’ll tell you right now, it’s very possible that he’ll feel trapped once he realizes that he needs to remain faithful to a dull girl who can’t even kiss right. And at that point, infidelity becomes not just a possibility, but inevitable. Wouldn’t it be better if you had your friend, one of the same gender, who has no sexual or romantic motives or feelings towards you, gently handing you criticism now in order to save your future marriage?”

“I don’t…”

“Laura… don’t fight it. Just let me kiss you.”

“But…”

Our lips were inches apart. Her eyes way shifting wearily between my lips, which were thirsting to trample over everything she stood for, and a possible escape. Her beliefs, her relationship, and my eyes, filled with hunger to defile Lawrence’s fantastical idea of his “saintly” sister. An erotic, emotional experience unlike anything either of us had probably ever experienced before. My intense disdain for what this person stood for had been propelling my desire to control her. It was that K-pop face that all the boys drooled over, and her ridiculous, Christ-like compassion for others. I wanted to destroy it all. To take her and drag her through the mud like the bitch I know she really can be deep down, and I want it all recorded through the secret camera built on the inside of my glasses.

“Zoey, I don’t want this…”

My face was flushed. I was drenched. Her protests somehow didn’t seem very compelling. The redness on her face as she looked away betrayed any verbal protest she was offering me. I didn’t care anymore. I needed to ruin her. To make up for how dreadfully the past 24 hours had gone, I was going to have my way with her.

And then came those dreaded three knocks. “Excuse me,” said a voice from behind the door. I flinched from the sudden noise, and my glasses fell off my face when I jerked to look in the direction of the sound. The two of us faced it in silence, as if we’d just woken up from a spell.

“Your roommate?”

“No, that was a man’s voice.”

I lifted myself off her body.

“Sorry, I got kind of carried away,” I said.

“No, it’s okay. Your intentions were good, that’s what’ matters. I’m sorry for snapping at you too.”

My intentions were good. She offered the words up so casually to the woman who was aiming to defile her in her own dorm room. ‘Your intentions were good’. There should be a limit to how delusional someone can be.

The knocking continued. “Excuse me, is anyone in here? This is urgent.”

“Uhm, I’m sorry Zoey. Can you get that? I’m kind of…”

It looked like her legs were stiff. She was a God-fearing woman through and through. The trauma of a sexual encounter had turned her lower half into a Greek statue. How could someone like this exist in modern day America? Did she avoid every single song and movie that’s ever been made? Does she not any kind of social media? No, of course she did. So how could a twenty-year old girl be so blissfully unaware?

“Sure. No problem.”

I made my way over to the door and opened it to the face of a middle-aged man in a janitor’s uniform. Greasy strands of hair hung from the baseball cap he’d worn over his head, hiding his expression.

“Ah, guten Tag Fraulein,“ he said.

I tilted my head in confusion.

“Guten Tag… erm, are you German?”

“Polish, actually.”

“I see…” His answer only worsened my confusion. The Polish janitor living in America’s deep south was greeting me in German. I almost wanted to ask him about it, but I decided not to press the issue. “So, what do you want?”

“Ah, you see… I heard that you wanted your dorm cleaned so I brought this over here…” He tapped at the vacuum cleaner near his feet.

“You heard, huh? Hey Laura,” I turned back.

“We don’t need it.”

She was already at my side facing the man at the door. Her expression was sterner than it had been earlier. Sterner…

“Oh, a shame. And I’ve already gone through so much to drag this darned thing up here…” He pointed with his gloved hand at the large vacuum cleaner at his feet. “Are you sure you couldn’t let me in for a moment?”

“No. You can leave now.”

“Ah, very well. A gentleman knows when he isn’t needed. I’ll be on my way then.” He hung around, as if expecting a response from Laura, but she didn’t offer a single word of goodbye. She simply stared at him with cold eyes as if waiting eagerly for him to depart. “Well then Fraulein, I’ll see you around.”

Flashing me a final grin, he turned around and walked away with the vacuum in tow, not bothering to look back at either of us at all. It was the second most bizarre experience I’d had all day. I was so stunned that I found myself turning back to Laura with a bewildered look.

“Hey, do I look German to you?” I asked.

“German? I don’t know. I can’t tell a German from a Brit from an Irishman. You just look like Zoey.”

“Yeah, but… he knew. Is it because actually from Europe? Or…”

“I don’t know, but that guy’s been following us around all day.”

I blinked twice. “What?”

“You didn’t notice? Right after we left the sushi place I started noticing him following us from a couple of feet away. He tried to play it cool, but he was pretty hard to miss. It was a little concerning. Do you have any stalkers, Zoey?”

He followed me around since the sushi place.

He seemed to know that I have German heritage.

And…

Then there was the hack I’d experienced just before we sat down for sushi in the first place.

The one that Tristan couldn’t possibly have done.

It all meant one thing.

This man might have access to Dream Paralysis.

A chill ran through my body.

He came over and found me after he woke up from the hack then?

It was an unprecedented disaster.

I needed to get back to him.

I needed to figure this out.

“I’m gonna go.”

“Hey, wait-”

I dashed off in the direction of the man. He turned the corner at the end of the corridor which leads to the staircase, so I should’ve been able to catch up to him. He was dragging along that heavy vacuum cleaner, after all.

I should’ve, but… after turning the corner, I found the very same vacuum cleaner leaning against the side of the wall, and the staircase was empty.

“Don’t do this, please don’t do this...”

I needed to follow him. I needed to go down.

“Zoey wait!”

I felt her arms coiling around my torso.

“Wha-”

“Don’t follow him!”

Laura Young had decided to hold me back from chasing after the hacker.

“What are you talking about? He was following us, you know. I need to find out who he is.”

“Don’t do it. What if something bad happens? What if he attacks you or, God forbid, kidnaps you?”

“And? I should just live in fear everyday knowing that he’s following me around? I need to know who he is if I want to file a police report.”

“But…”

She did have a point. It’s entirely possible that he was leading me into a trap. Plus, if he did have the power of Dream Paralysis, then it’d be in my best interest not to antagonize him too much. After all, his gun would always be pointed at me since he knows what I look like.

“God…”

The truth is, I’d rather get kidnapped or murdered than what’s about to happen. My options are limited. Because the second I go to bed, I could end up becoming the target of his hacking. And once he does that, there’s no telling what will happen next. I needed to think of something. Anything.

“Are you okay?” Laura asked. She seemed genuinely concerned with my well-being despite what happened earlier.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Listen, I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

The two of us stood next to each other in silence, leaning against the wall near the staircase for an undetermined amount of time. We merely took in the experience of having had such a near-miss experience with a crazed stalker. The silence helped me to calm myself down, so that I could think this through rationally.

Regardless of what was going to happen in the future, one thing was for certain. I couldn’t tell Tristan about this man. As it stands, it seems like he mistakenly thinks that I also have the power of Dream Paralysis. The two of them getting involved with one another should be avoided as much as possible. If he does something to Tristan, or if the two of them conspire together, then I’ll lose control over the power. For now, it’s better if he deals with me as if I’m the true owner of the power.

The headaches just kept piling on and on. I needed to deal with Gwen, Lawrence, Warren, and now this mysterious man in order to have free reign of this power. The possible paths I could take were narrowing by the day.

Unable to just stand in silence for any longer, Laura finally spoke up. “I’m going to be honest Zoey, I’m kind of scared.”

“How come?”

“Well, he knows where I live now.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s me he wants.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Well, if you had to choose between stalking Andrew Jackson or a twenty-year-old college student, I’d like to think you’d choose the former.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I was in the presence of King Andrew the First today. Should I have bent the knee, my liege?”

A rare chuckle escaped my lips. I hadn’t expected to be genuinely amused by an off-handed comment, but I respected that she’d dug so far back into the history books for it.

“Oh, there’s no need. Even great leaders need a day off sometimes,” I said.

“Really? Well, I have just the thing for that.”

She reached into her pocket and held a stick of gum out for me.

“Okay, fine. You win.”

I reached to grab it, but she pulled it away and began unwrapping it.

“Was this all just a setup to play a prank on me?”

“Not at all. You can still come take it.”

She plopped the stick into her mouth, stared into my eyes.

I blinked. “Really?”

“I never lie, Zoey Brahm.”

 I paused for a moment, then grinned.

“Do you really think I won’t?”

“Why don’t you try it, King Andr-”

I moved in mid-sentence, and our lips entwined. Eyes closed, I felt her sudden breath of surprise splashing off my face. The taste of vegan sushi and icy mint clouded my head as I sucked on her upper lips with each press of my own. I held her there for a while, feasting on her flesh and allowing her to get comfortable, sitting there as I felt her, before my tongue finally invaded her mouth.

I felt her submitting to me as her drool began leaking itself onto my lips. Yes, I did everything in my power to make it a wet, dirty kiss that only lovers on the verge of fornicating could ever conceivably partake in. I ran my hands through her luscious hair, tainting her with my muck. Hauling her through a swamp of degradation and decadence that only the dirtiest of sinners would ever dare to wade through. The good believer that her parents spent twenty years raising, that Lawrence deifies, that’s holding her virginity from her boyfriend until marriage. My sick, repressed jealousy infected and blackened her soul as she was finally dragged into the world of debauchery and hedonism with myself and every other piece of shit human being in the world.

And then, I pulled myself away from her and stared longingly into her eyes. She was breathing heavily as she did her best to wipe away the thin ropes that were left after our parting. With her hair disheveled, her face flushed, she looked like a girl who’d finally found joy in the physical rather than the spiritual. I don’t blame her. To be honest, it was my first kiss too, and the pleasure I’d found in the intimacy of the experience was surprising. Joining another person like that is thrilling. That’s what I realized. But more than surprise, I could sense within her a hint of worry and panic. She might have been in the middle of regretting it. Going against the foundation of the religious beliefs that she had spent so many years carefully cultivating must not have been easy for her.

“Zoey, how did I…”

But before she could say anything, the sound of my phone buzzing interrupted her. I reached over and grabbed it and found Gwen’s contact centered on the display next to the small icon of an envelope. If she was texting me like this during her birthday outing, then I assumed that it must have been important.   

 But before I bothered to read it, I stuck my tongue out and showed Laura the gum I swiped from her mouth. The worried expression on her face melted away into one of relief. This girl really does love sharing with others, doesn’t she?