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The phone vibrates, and I look at the screen.
Z: Do you question every gift you receive?"
Me: When it comes from a man with no face that wears a bird mask, yes.
Z: No faith. Do you like it?
I smile.
Me: Who wouldn't. Where are you?
Z: Close.
Me: How did you know I called customer service.
Z: I know many things, and I'm always watching you.
He thinks he is funny.
Me: Oh, yeah. Where was I?
Z:The Bedford residence off-campus with his companion Reid. I know your friend Gia and Valen were also in attendance, but you didn't stay long. Why did you leave so suddenly? Were the sons of Kenyan misbehaving, my little Sparrow. Do they need a little persuasion?
The reminder of what they did and how they lied to me still stings. I thought Valen and Reid were my friends. I thought I meant more to them. When Gia dropped me off, I thought about Michael and how he waited for me. Was he watching? Does Zero know?
Me: How about after?
Z: I'm not sure what you mean.
I guess he doesn't know about Michael. It means he isn't always watching. My phone buzzing vibrates on my lap as I slide my boots off my feet. I sit cross-legged on the bed and swipe up to read the message.
Z:Didn't your mom ever tell you not to get in a car with a stranger.
Me: It was you.
I smile to myself. He busted all the windows and flattened the tires on Michael's Mustang. Michael deserves it, but it could also be a game. Members of the Order like to play games, and Michael is one of them, and so is Z. They probably know each other, and I shouldn't trust him. I shouldn't trust anyone except Gia.
Z:You do have your own car.
I have been here almost four years and have never seen him before. I want to know why he watches me. Why me all of a sudden?
Me: How do you know so much about me? Why me?
Z:It is my job to know things. Things others overlook. Like I said, you intrigue me. Don't you want a guy to pay attention to you? I thought girls love male attention unless they like the same sex, and from what I have seen, felt, and heard, you love cock. You want to wipe away the shame that haunts you. You use your body to calm the need and hunger to forget. When your cunt gets fed, you don't have the need to scrub your shame. Isn't that right?
He is psychoanalyzing me. These are the type of questions a therapist asks a patient. He must be a doctor. They have a psychology department in Kenyan. He must be one of those psychotherapists with a fetish for students. A fetish for female Prey.
Me: Are you a doctor?
Z: Maybe? Maybe not? Do you need a doctor, Jesse Sharpe? Would that help with the nightmares? The need to scrub the filth that has touched your skin like a disease? Did a father or stepfather fuck you? Did he…sodomize you? Touch you? Watch you?
Bastard. Tears slide down my cheeks from the memories of what Michael has done. What he allowed his friends to do to me my senior year. How I lost my virginity in the worst way. I live in fear and disgust with what I have to do every time.
Me:Fuck you.
Z:I promise you, my love. It will be special when I take you. I'm not the enemy here, Jesse. I'm your savior. Your little secret. Sweet dreams.
Me:Z
