-Zoey’s POV-
My voyeuristic tendencies began with my parents’ sex life. Peeking between the slit of the door and into that dark room, I observed as the large man I called my father mounted the delicate flower I once called my mother, and the two of them engaged in something my childish mind had done all sorts of warped gymnastics to make sense of. Almost every night, I would find myself creeping through the halls, my ears readily scanning for the sound of tossing fabrics and muffled moans that served as the green light to look inside. For years of my childhood, night after night, the sights, sounds and smells of my parents’ lively nocturnal activities were the only evidence of what others called love that I had ever witnessed from within that household.
There was no sexual pleasure in it for me. After all, how could a girl of nine or ten even have any real notion of what that is? No, I was just envious. My heart yearned for a loving relationship with them. I wanted to feel loved the way they loved each other. Father was always busy with work, and Carla would only play nice with me whenever he was around. Nothing about my home life convinced me that either of them truly loved me at all. Neither of them was exactly the poster child of emotional vulnerability. They never truly told one another or even me about how much we meant to them. It was a cold atmosphere where positive reinforcement or words of gratitude or appreciation came as often as a blizzard would on a tropical island. That is, with the exception of when the two of them shared their bed.
A part of that made me jealous that I couldn’t experience this thing with them. It was the only time either of them ever conveyed something remotely resembling affection for the other. Perhaps that was why I wanted to be seen that day. Perhaps then I could have been a part of it; been a part of their love.
It was only when I had turned eleven that they caught me watching. It’s about time, I thought. I had been wanting to get caught for the longest time. The intense volume at which they went at it, coupled with the fact that they hadn’t even bothered to close the door shut when they did it on that particular night had led my young mind to naively believe that perhaps they had wanted me to watch them do it. I was being delusional. I convinced myself as much because I hoped that maybe I could be loved too. But Carla’s reaction had dashed all hopes of that.
“Hun, Hun stop!” she screamed, trying to get dad’s attention. “It’s Zoey! Zoey’s there!”
The terror on her face was clear, even in the darkness that blanketed the room. I realized that I had made a grave error by showing myself. My voyeuristic adventures may have just come to an end. My father, however, seemed indifferent to both her pleading and my presence. He kept his body hunched over her and swung his hips as if it was no big deal.
“Hun, I said to stop! Please stop it!”
“Hang on, I’m almost…”
Dad began arching his back out as he always did when he was almost done. That move of his was the calling card of his coital finish. It’s funny, having looked up all sorts of information on sex from browsing the internet, I had only learned through watching dad that it was supposed to be an intensely pleasurable experience. The way he moaned as if he had taken a bite of a delicious steak was evidence enough of that. And today was no different. He let out that familiar masculine groan as he finished inside of my mother. I had witnessed this exact scene so many times, but for some reason that night it had taken on a more sinister air.
“Ugh… Hun, why…”
She covered her face with one hand out of shame and disappointment.
“Let her watch. She’s old enough to know what it is,” he said as he rolled over to his back. “Zoey, c’mere.”
“Zoey, do not fucking come into this room. Wait for me outside.”
Carla’s anger was in stark contrast to the aloofness my father had been exhibiting about the situation. My suspicions that he’d wanted me to walk in on them had been growing. But in any case, I decided to wait outside at Carla’s command. The room was dark, but I was used to adjusting my eyes to the darkness before peeking at them. I could see well enough the kinds of faces they were making in that room. And there was no way on earth that I’d leave that room alive if she saw me walking in.
After a few moments, Carla came out of the room and lowered herself to face me.
“Why were you looking in at us?”
“I… I heard noises and wanted to see if you were okay. Was dad attacking you?”
My face whipped to the side. A burning sensation spread throughout my cheek.
“You coy little bitch,” she said, pointing a finger in my face. “I thought I told you to stop lying. How long were you watching for?”
“How long? You mean like, today?”
“What? What did you just say?”
The horror on her face when I’d uttered those words told me everything I needed to know about what I’d done. And even if it hadn’t, it didn’t take long for me to realize how upset she was about it when she grabbed me by my hair and pulled me closer.
“Ow!”
“Listen to me, Zoey. What happened in there? That’s something special just for me and him. Do you get it? It’s our thing. He loves me, not you. So why don’t you be a good girl and just stay the fuck away from that door, hmm?”
“Owww! I’m sorry! It hurts!”
“You’re sorry? That’s all you can say?” Once she was done yanking my hair, she thrust me to the ground. “You are an unlovable child, Zoey. You don’t make me happy, and you won’t make anyone else happy, certainly not your father. All you do is infect other people with your misery. I don’t even know why you’re so miserable, either. Your life isn’t even hard.”
“Sorry…”
She opened the door to return to the room, then turned back to me.
“Go to bed, child. Go to bed and think about what you’ve done to your parents tonight.”
I did think about what I did to them. I have for a very long time now. Because after that night, my parents were no longer intimate with one another. My one action back then had been the final nail in the coffin of their failing marriage and had contributed to the separation and divorce that followed two years later.
---
The bees swarmed the room in search of an exit like rowdy drunks at a bar. They would find no such release, however, as the room was locked and sealed tightly, miles away from their hive. I’m not sure why, but I’ve never been particularly afraid of insects and other small creatures as much as other people my age.
When I was a kid, I would catch and play with all sorts of spiders and worms and cockroaches for fun. They were like my own personal pets whenever I had nothing else to do at home. Bees were a little more difficult to get my hands on, but understanding their attraction to honey and other sweet scents, such as the one Gwen had naively sprayed on her wrist earlier, made it much simpler.
Gwen’s scream might have been loud enough to get past the proofing of the walls, but thankfully the school was mostly empty at around this time, much less on this floor. No one would come to help her now. All she could do was retreat for cover underneath the computer table. Someone should have told her that bees aren’t aggressive unless they feel like their hives, or their lives are threatened. If she doesn’t do anything too drastic, then she should be able to walk out quite easily.
Of course, phobias are rarely rational, especially if she’s had an allergic reaction to a sting before. In any case, scaring her with bees was not the sole purpose of today’s confrontation. They’re merely décor I’ve prepared for the purpose of, well, ripening her up for negotiations. After all, one should never negotiate on someone else’s terms.
I flipped through my phone’s gallery and found the pictures I needed, then turned to Tristan, who was standing there like a statue. He also seemed to be relatively unaffected by the buzzing bees that had made themselves at home. Even when they flew past his face or landed in his bright hair, he seemed entirely unaffected. Was it my influence, or was he just that troubled by having done that to Gwen?
“You did a good job Tristan,” I said to him.
He turned to face me with dead eyes and said nothing, then turned back to the computer desk that Gwen was hiding under. If I had to guess, he was dissociating. Perhaps the situation was so stressful to him that his mind and body had become disconnected. Either way, there was no point in saying anything to him. This was now nothing but a movie, and he had morphed into the viewer whose participation was not a part of the script.
My walk through the buzzing wasn’t exactly pleasant, but the pleasure of having grounded Gwen’s face in the dirt like this made it all worth it. I crouched before the table and smiled at her.
“Hello there.”
“GET AWAY! GET THE FUCK AWAY!!”
She kicked at me, but she avoided actually kicking me, possibly because she was afraid her bare legs, unprotected due to her cheerleader outfit, would make a target for the flying creatures. The poor girl was hyperventilating. Was she that terrified of the bees? I almost felt sorry for her. Not that it mattered. I had a mission to execute.
“Hey Gwen, I have something I want to show you, and I can’t do that with you kicking around like a child throwing a tantrum.”
“Fuck off! I’m not going out there!”
“It’s really important though. I think you’ll want to see it.”
“Text it to me then, I don’t know!”
I didn’t really want her to have a copy of it, but I supposed that it didn’t matter. I opened her contact and texted her phone with the pictures I’d taken on homecoming day. Of course, it was a before and after of the soda switch. I took one frame from her placing her own, drugged drink on the bench, then I took another one of her picking up Ben’s.
“What the fuck…”
“You poor child. You had no idea, did you?”
“Did you set me up, Tristan?! Is that it?!”
“I’ll leave that one to your imagination,” I said smiling. “The important thing is what happens next, because I think there’s a certain someone who’d get really upset if they realized what you did.”
“You fucking bitch…” I reached out to her, and she flung another pathetic kick my way. “Stop that!”
“Why are you being so violent with your savior? I can get rid of the bees if you’d like, you know.”
“THEN DO IT!”
“But there’s something you need to do for me.”
“What… what do you want…?”
“I need you to call Warren and tell him that I had nothing to do with you drugging Ben at the game.”
“No…”
“Tell him that you found out about his accusation because I asked you about it, because I was curious. But be convincing. Otherwise, not only will I send these photographs to Ben, but I will drag you out from under there and hold you down for each one of these little mercenaries to paint the floor with your stomach acid.”
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“What the fuck… what the fuck…”
“It’s your only way out of this.”
Her wide eyes were staring down at the floor. It was hell on earth for her, no doubt about it. Her previous reaction to a single bee back at my house was already a bit much. To be in a situation like this must have been like coming face to face with a pack of hungry wolves.
“Fine…” She eventually gave in.
“Use your speaker phone when you make the call, please.”
She didn’t respond. I imagined that her mind was preoccupied with getting her out of this terrible situation. The sound of the phone’s ringing joined the unsettling sound of the bees buzzing around. It was an auditory reminder that, even while hiding underneath the table, it wasn’t her imagination. That her worst nightmare is real. And also, that she needed to make sure that the call went well.
“Hey, Gwen?” Warren asked on the other side of the line.
“Hey, um…” she gulped. “By any chance, did you tell Zoey that uh, she was the one who told me to do that thing I did at homecoming?’
“That thing? You mean with the drinks? Uh, yeah… did you want to tell the teachers on her?”
“NO! Well, that’s uh, that’s the thing Warren. I can’t.”
“You can’t? Why not?”
“Because… I… I k-kinda did it on my own.”
“You did?”
“Uh, yeah. It was my own idea. She just caught me red-handed, that’s all.” She sighed. “I just… I really didn’t want Ben dating that bitch, you know? Even if it meant…”
“Gwen, you did a terrible thing.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I regret it. But please don’t tell Ben. I want to be the one to tell him on my own. Someday…”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ll be the one to deal with it.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, goodbye Gwen.”
“Bye...”
The phone call ended after they gave their somber farewells. I’m sure Warren had no idea what Gwen was going through on the other end of the line. She sat in silence, trying her best to stifle her whimpers.
“You’re a good actress Gwen. You should consider Broadway.”
“Fucking kill yourself, Zoey.”
“Well, that wasn’t very nice. Maybe I should just leave you here.”
“NO! Please, anything but that… Tristannn! Help me!”
“He’s not going to help you, Gwen.”
“Tristan!!!”
A Bee had landed on my head then. I felt it resting in my hair, perched calmly compared to its more energetic companions who were still searching for an exit somewhere. Perhaps this single wise bee must have recognized its preordained purpose. Making sure to keep my head still, I placed my flat palm on the top of my head. Patiently, for a few moments, until the bee eventually decided to land on my hand. Anaphylactic shock? I wondered what kind of a sight that would be? In one careful motion, possessed by my curiosity, I carefully moved my hand underneath the table, towards Gwen.
Another terrifying scream. The third one today. Harmonizing with the grating sound of the chair and table screeching against the floor as she violently moved to upend herself from underneath the table. She scuttled out of the right side like a cockroach and made for the corner of the room furthest away from the door. Her entire body was shivering as she hugged her knees, back against the wall, facing the whirlwind of despair that had been unleashed into this small box of a room. There were goosebumps all over her skin, and she had broken out into a cold sweat. It seemed as if I had underestimated just how terrified she was of these things. And why shouldn’t she be? A sting without her kit nearby was almost certain death.
“Save me Tristan, please save me please save me please save me…”
Tears rolled down her face as the desperate cries rung out in futility. She didn’t dare utter my name. After all, that would give me too much pleasure and she knew it.
“He’s not going to help you. Seventh law of Dream Paralysis and all that.”
“S-seventh law? Dream… what the fuck are you even talking about?”
“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Guess you two weren’t actually that close after all.”
The vitriol in her eyes after I uttered those words almost made me wet with excitement. I didn’t know love, that much was true. But watching her squirm in fear like this was the most pleasurable moment of my life up until that point. That’s it, this is why I enjoy knowing the ins and outs of all these people. Toying with them like this really does make me feel all-powerful.
And if it weren’t for Lawrence, none of this would have been possible. Yes, it’s because of information he provided me with that I was able to charm Ben to the extent that I had. I knew all of his likes, all of his quirks, and everything else. If I told this to Gwen, then her mind would really break. But I couldn’t risk angering Lawrence by letting his secret out. Not at that moment, anyway.
“Tristan,” I called out to him. “Clear the way so that Gwen can leave.”
“Where… do you want me to move it?”
“Just park it to your right against the black curtain, there should be space for her to go by.”
Tristan nodded and retreated behind the barricade. The sound of the projector cart being rolled to the side filled the room for half a dozen seconds before returning to the dominating bees buzzing around the room.
“You’re free to leave now, Gwen.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“I’m not. Look, the bees aren’t even in your path right now.”
Sure enough, one of the bees was banging hopelessly against the window at the far end of the photography club. The other two were high up against a wall and couldn’t have possibly made it to Gwen if she dashed through. The problem for Gwen was, however, that her phobia was paralyzing. She couldn’t move.
“I thought you said you’d get rid of them...”
“Oh, that? I lied. Sorry.”
I was the furthest thing from sorry and she knew it. In fact, if she weren’t so terrified, I had the distinct feeling that she would lunge at me right that second.
“Anyway,” I said, moving myself over to the DSLR I had set up for school ID photos. “Now’s your chance before they come back down. The clock is ticking, Gwen.”
I pointed the camera over in Gwen’s direction, adjusted the settings for a few seconds, then snapped a beautiful picture of her pathetic self curled in the corner of the room.
“Okay, fuck you!” she finally lost it and made her move at me. Ignoring the fear of the bees, ignoring the consequences of laying her hands on me. Her face contorted with an ugly anger that besmirched that fallen angel image she worked so hard to create for herself. But ultimately, even that last act was futile, as she was held back by Tristan, who had pinned both of her arms up by scooping them from below.
“Let go of me! I’ll fucking kill her!”
“Don’t, please,” he said. “You’ll only give her what she wants.”
He was right. Assault in addition to the drugging was grounds for expulsion. Maybe I would get in trouble for the bees, but their presence could be explained away easily compared to what she’s done. After all, trapping and releasing bees just to bully someone sounds borderline insane compared to the excuse that I just happened to leave the window open, and it also contrasts with the image of myself I’ve worked so hard to cultivate at school.
“But...”
“Here,” Tristan said. “I’ll guide you to the exit.”
“You will...?”
“Yeah, just wear this.” He let go of her and ran over to the barricade in the middle of the room, where he lifted the cloth off it, then ran back over to her. “I’ll lead you to the exit, you just need to walk with me. Okay?”
“Um, yeah. I think I can do that.”
“Well, that’s no fun,” I pouted.
She glared at me, a trail where her tears had poured still dampening her face. I flashed her a smile in response, and she groaned then put the cloth over her body. She was now entirely covered by that large curtain that had once sectioned off the middle of the room.
“Okay,” Tristan said. “Can you see me?”
“Kind of, but not really…”
“Okay. Just follow my outline slowly and you should be fine,” he said.
It seemed difficult to walk in that thing. The cloth was so lengthy that it was dragging across the ground with each move. It wouldn’t be surprising if she had taken a bad step and fallen over. However, she seemed very conscientious about exactly that, and she took these steps while managing to avoid tripping entirely. The two of them slowly traversed the room, making it all the way to the light.
“How are you doing?” Tristan asked.
“I’m good, I think.”
“Okay, we’re almost there.”
This boring team building exercise was going to undo everything I’d done to tear them apart. It irked me. I made him the villain, and he went and turned himself into the hero again. No, I couldn’t have that.
“We’re almost past the worst part…”
As he uttered those words, I walked over and stepped on the rear end of the cloth as it dragged across the ground. The front of the sheet, being held in place by my foot, slowly ascended her body as quickly as she had been moving. It only took about four steps for her to realize what was going on.
“Wait, why is…”
Her now visible face turned to me, and I used the opportunity to reach out and remove the curtain from her body. The sight of hope leaving her face as she was suddenly standing, without protection, right below two of those buzzing creatures, had put a wicked smile on my face. I think I must have been drunk. The joy I felt as her mind shut down, watching as the insects slowly descended, attracted by the scent of the citrus perfume she’d applied to her wrist, almost forced a laugh out of me.
The fourth scream was the most enjoyable of them all. After all, only that scream had followed the deranged dance she had done in an attempt to chase them off of her, before she rushed over to the door. The way she desperately fiddled with the knob before finally opening it up was also quite the sight.
“Gwen!”
Tristan called out to her in a soft voice, almost as if he didn’t want her to hear him. As for whether or not she actually did, she was too panicked to give a response. After fidgeting desperately with the door for a few seconds, she managed to get it open and fled outside. I could vaguely hear her tapping her feet in a dance outside, trying to get what she imagined to be the bees off her body and clothes. They weren’t with her, though. All three bees were still buzzing around the room, just like before.
Whatever the case, she was gone now. I didn’t have to worry about her anymore thanks to the blackmail and her newfound fear of me now that I knew her weakness, and with that call to Warren, he should be off my back too. There are three ways to prevent someone from spilling your secret, and none of those are to build trust with them. Because no matter how much trust you build with someone, they will always screw you over if the opportunity presents itself. The first is to kill them. That’s obvious. Dead men tell no tales, after all. But the repercussions of something like that would be difficult to avoid. The second is to convince everyone that that person is insane. If their sanity is under question, then anything they say will be considered slander or a lie so long as they have no evidence to back it up. And the third, of course, is to make them aware of the fact that spilling your secrets will result in their own demise.
Mutually assured destruction. The US practically wrote the book on the concept during the cold war. If my allies and I are the target of a nuclear strike by an enemy, then they could be sure that I will use everything in my power to level them to the ground with my own arsenal of weapons. It’s not an entirely novel idea, but I think that far too many people avoid openly illustrating their willingness to follow through when dealing with secrets. The idea of trust only invites people to gossip behind your back. If they’re forced to confront the fact that they’d be destroyed if they openly spoke about your private thoughts with others, then they’d think twice about bringing it up over tea with their friends.
“Zoey, I…”
I turned to face the oaf who was clearly moping over Gwen. Just what did him and Ben see in that foul-mouthed cheerleader anyhow? Was it charming to watch someone curse the world over every single bad thing that happened to them? To create an entire image of being the most unfortunate girl on the planet who constantly needed rescuing? Was that it?
“Tris…” I found myself holding my tongue before I could say his name.
He looked conflicted. Of course, this would be the downside to taking Gwen out of the picture. She had dug his claws so deeply into his mind that getting rid of them forcefully like this was causing friction.
“Tristan, would you like to talk outside? Without these things?” I said, pointing at the bees flying around.
“Oh, right…”
The two of us stepped outside where Gwen was nowhere in sight. The hall itself was, as I had expected, entirely empty. It was getting late, so everyone was more or less heading home from their extra-curricular activities. In fact, we were the strange ones for hanging out here at this hour.
“Listen Tristan, I know you’re probably conflicted about what happened in there. I understand that. It couldn’t have been easy for you. But you have to understand that the bond you two had was something she was using to try to get back at me. You heard her yourself, didn’t you?”
He didn’t respond. He was just staring absentmindedly at the ground as he had been before she left.
“Tristan?”
“Huh? What is it?”
“Do you agree with what I just said?”
“I don’t… I mean, didn’t you start it? With Ben? She wouldn’t have been, I mean…”
I sighed. “Okay, fine. I started it. She has every right to resent me.”
Having uttered those words, I slumped against the wall and sat on the floor.
“I’m broken, Trist. You’ve felt it firsthand. I can’t experience love. Not normally, anyway. That’s why seeing those two all the time… it stirred something up inside of me.”
“Something?”
“I hated it. It irritated me to no end. Of course I want to love the way she did. I wondered why her eyes twinkled the way they did every time she looked at Ben. Why she smiled so brightly whenever he looked at her. I didn’t get it, I still don’t get it after trying to get sweet with him. None of it made any sense. Am I the bad guy for trying to explore any of that just because I’m broken?”
“Zoey…”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Even if I regret it, it doesn’t change what I did. But Tristan, I will never apologize for hurting someone who tries to tear us apart.”
I looked up at him with determination in my face. Indeed. If anyone tries to rip this power from me, I’ll burn them to the ground. This is the only good thing that’s ever happened to me, and I will do everything I can to keep it by my side.
“Zoey, I just… I don’t know if this is what I want. You’ve been so distant since homecoming that I…”
Before he can say another word, I reached for his arm and pulled him in, and pressed my lips into his.
“Mm-“
His body froze up. I could feel his body heat up as his breath splashed over my face. The cracked lips I felt against mine were almost laughably pitiful compared to Laura’s. I pulled myself away. I stared into his face. His entirely bewildered, reddened face made me sick, but I swallowed my hatred and offered up my usual grin.
“Smile, Tristan. You’re the first boy to ever taste these lips of mine.”
“Zoey…”
“I don’t know if it’ll work,” I said, letting go of his arm. “But I want to try dating you. Not secretly, either. We’ll tell the entire school that Tristan Collins is going out with Zoey Brahm. We’ll sit together at lunch, we’ll study world history together, we’ll go out for ice cream on the weekend, and we’ll do the exciting things that boys and girls do together.”
When I said the last part, his face somehow became even redder.
“D-do you mean it?”
“Of course I do. Remember that thing I mentioned yesterday about going out on Saturday?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“That was a date, dummy. I was asking you out.”
“Oh...”
“Well, it’s more of a double date. But it doesn’t change the fact that I had you in mind for it.”
“I… see…”
He would need some more convincing, it seemed. This prospect would have made him happy last week, and yet the mental turmoil was clear as day on his face. But at the very least, dangling this carrot in front of him would keep him from running off a cliff.
“I get that this whole thing’s bothering you, so I’ll let you sleep on it. Just get home and think about it, okay?”
“O… okay.”
“You’re my property, Tristan. Don’t you ever forget that.”
“I’m… yours.”
I couldn’t tell if my words were influencing him. I could only hope that his mind was slowly creeping away from Gwen, who was probably traumatized and hurt by his massive betrayal earlier. I might have had my doubts about the simplicity of this tactic, but he’s an idiot. A creepy, useful idiot. He is serving his purpose, and now Warren and Gwen were out of the picture. All that was left was getting Lawrence Young off my back this weekend. Then, with Tristan at my side, becoming God might not be just a fantasy of mine after all.