Across town...

Audrey Cunningham kneeled in the hallway outside of her apartment, searching once more for her keys - no dice. Her bag had been emptied out onto the floor, each pocket had been checked a dozen times, nothing. The keys were nowhere to be found, and Natalie wasn’t answering her phone. Great.

She briefly considered contacting the landlord of the apartment, but quickly decided against it. Her Landlord might as well have lived in a different country with how unresponsive he was towards his tenants. It had taken nearly a year for Audrey and Natalie to convince him to send someone in to fix their stove - they’d gotten used to a lot of instant rice and microwaveable meals by then. So, he was out.

Audrey didn’t know what to do. She was already worn out after a long day - it had been her first real day on the job as a police officer, and she’d only just gotten back from some very intensive cadet training out of state. And now she couldn’t even get in through the front door of her own home. Some cop.

Audrey sighed, slumping against the door and sliding down to the floor. God, how long had she been waiting here? 45 minutes maybe? She’d go out back and try to get in through an open window if she could, but that would be quite the challenge seeing as they lived on the third floor. She nervously twiddled a strand of platinum blonde hair around her finger, contemplating if she should utilize one of the various methods she’d learned in cadet training of breaking into a locked door. Those were **** measures, however, and very likely to void her and Spruce’s warranty if attempted.

Cmonnnn, Natalie. Where are you? Natalie wasn’t the type to intentionally ignore Audrey’s messages, and even if she got texted while she was working, she’d always make an effort to get back as soon as possible. Maybe something bad had happened? Audrey hated thinking like that, but her mind wandered to extremes more often than she’d like to admit.

Finally, Audrey heard rushing footsteps making their way down the hall and Natalie appeared, hair slightly tousled, clothes a bit wrinkled, and offered Audrey an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” Natalie muttered, shaking her head. “Something came up at work. I just got your texts.” She paused in the hallway and searched her purse for a few seconds before tossing a loop of keys towards Audrey. She caught it in midair and quickly found the key she needed.

“I’d heard about schools taking phones away from students during the day,” she joked, unlocking the door with a heavy clunk before pushing it open. “I had no idea they took them from the teachers as well.”

“Yeah. Har-har,” came Natalie’s tired reply, following behind her into the darkened apartment. Audrey didn’t notice her friend shudder as they passed through the front door into the foyer.

The tiny, 250 square foot studio the two roommates called home was nothing special - a kitchenette built into the living room, one bedroom (Audrey slept on the pull-out couch) and a bathroom with enough space to fit a smattering of toiletries amongst the tiny shower, toilet and sink. Audrey flicked the lightswitch and the living room’s single, dimming lightbulb flickered on. It wasn’t much but the pair had made it home. A single TV lay on a tiny wooden dresser in the corner of the living room, various paintings of Natalie’s hung from each of the walls, and a few plants grew from pots sparsely placed throughout the room. Audrey tore open the blinds and a late-afternoon sunlight burst through the windows, better illuminating their quaint living space.

“I guess I should call a locksmith or something,” Audrey sighed as she moved to the kitchen, grabbing a travel cup from the cupboard and filling it from the sink with a refreshing hiss. “Get another pair of keys. I mean, they must be down at the station, maybe I left them in the squad car…” she took a large swig.

If Natalie could hear her she didn’t make any attempt to respond. She was already in her room, and had discreetly locked the door behind her.

A few minutes later Audrey saw her roommate emerge, this time in a different outfit. Decked out in dark blue jeans and a yellowish turtleneck sweater, Natalie certainly had a style - an “I don’t really care what I wear” kind of style, but a style nonetheless. It beat Audrey, still in her police uniform that was new enough to feel starchy and uncomfortable after a long day of work.

“Got changed?”

“Yeah. My clothes were all… sweaty.”

“Busy day, eh?”

Natalie just nodded. Heaving a deep breath she exhaustedly moved to the table at the border of the kitchenette and the living room, a tall, oaken thing they’d recently picked up for cheap at some dingy antique shop. She rested her head in her hands and Audrey took a seat opposite to her, concern set on her face. She placed her cup down on the table.

“Are you doing alright?”

Natalie’s hands dropped from her face, and she rubbed her nose, sniffling a little. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just a chaotic day at work.”

“You sure?”

Natalie nodded and tried beaming a fake smile, but Audrey could see the water in her eyes. Audrey shook her head. “Hey. Remember what your therapist said. Deep breaths.”

Natalie had a habit of letting her emotions take the better of her, this Audrey knew. Whether that looked like her sulking in silence after a particularly rough day at school, or her flying off the handle on a dime, she could be volatile. When the pair first met at college through a shared kinesiology class they’d each hit it off, but it had taken a while for Audrey to get accustomed to her mood swings. Natalie had been getting better, though, with her new therapist and Audrey’s help. But that was only when she decided to cooperate.

Natalie wasn’t looking at her. Audrey reached across the table and placed her hands on Natalie’s, calling her attention back. “Cmon, breathe with me. Ready? Inhale.”

The two inhaled slowly, letting the air fill their lungs over a span of four Mississippi’s. Then: “Hold it,” from Audrey, and the pair let the air sit in their lungs for a count of two. Finally:

“Aaaaand exhale.” Natalie let out a big, shuddering sigh as the carbon dioxide left her lungs, and she, seemingly accidentally, let a single tear roll down her cheek. She blushed as she squashed it with her sleeve. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Again,” came Audrey’s reply.

The two did this ritual another three times, before Natalie’s condition seemed to stabilize. Audrey considered asking her what was going on, but she knew by now that if Natalie wanted to discuss anything with her she would bring it up herself.

“Thanks.” Natalie wiped her eyes, sniffled a little. The two sat in silence for a moment before Natalie found Audrey’s gaze again. “How was your first day?”

“It was good, honestly. Just a lot of paperwork at first, but then they took me on a ride-along. Saw some of the more dangerous parts of town.”

“They give you your gun yet?”

“Yup. It’s locked up at the station. Got my badge, too.” Audrey thumbed through her bag before tossing it onto the table, a golden badge with her name on it in bold black text.

Natalie whistled. “Wow. It’s just like the movies. I’ve never seen one up close before.”

“That kind of surprises me,” giggled Audrey, placing the badge back in her purse. “No offense, but I can definitely picture you in the back of a squad car.”

“Fuuuuck off,” Natalie smiled. Audrey returned the smile, confident that her roomates mood had been lifted. She knew working at a highschool could be intense, especially for someone as… emotional as Natalie, but Audrey was here for her.

It helped that Natalie was by far the strongest person that Audrey knew. Natalie could pull through whatever it was she was dealing with.

She always did.

Charlotte Amely sat on her bed, the late-afternoon sun beaming through her window and across her face as she read through the book. It was damn heavy, but, as she’d expected, had proven to be very informative. She’d been collating notes on her phone, cross-checking sources, and could now confidently say she knew more about 1940’s war photography than any normal person probably ever needed to know. So far this project had been going well.

There was just one thing she couldn’t plan around: Bennet. Her somewhat awkward project partner had seemed affable, but the interaction regarding his book had left a sour taste in her mouth. She still felt the flush of embarrassment on her face when she thought about it. The impossibility of how something that was so obviously his made it into her bag. The way he’d so callously argued for them to meet up, just because she had accidentally... 'stolen' his book.

She frowned. Some part of her still felt odd about that whole exchange. She couldn’t figure out exactly why, but something didn’t add up. She didn’t think Bennet was lying about the book, the fact that he owned the book was entirely irrefutable, but something about his ownership of the book felt… unnatural. It sounded ridiculous in her head, but she felt it all the same, a gut feeling that just wouldn’t fade.

Still, he was kind in letting her borrow it regardless. Of course, she wasn’t stupid - she knew he had leant it to her on the condition that they work together in person because he was interested in her. He wasn’t good at hiding it, but honestly she was used to it. These days it seemed every boy in her grade wanted a piece of her. Some girls, too.

It was tiring, honestly. She’d made a very intentional choice not to have any high-school relationships so she could focus on her studies. Boyfriend-girlfriend drama would be a cancer on her GPA, and she needed to balance her time wisely if she was going to fit in all of her extracurriculars. Volunteer hours didn’t just grow on trees. It had paid off, obviously. She hadn’t gotten a letter yet but her academic advisor had hinted that she was basically a cinch for Stanford, probably with full scholarships, and everything else was quickly settling into position. Her life was basically planned out from here, to a T. She’d made sure of it.

But group projects could be grade killers. Luckily Bennet seemed decent, though she knew (and was reluctantly accepting of the fact) that she’d be carrying the two of them in the academic sense.

Of course, being good at doing coursework didn’t necessarily mean she always enjoyed it. The book was as dull as it was heavy, and she’d been glassily reading and rereading the same paragraph for the last few minutes out of sheer inattentiveness. She needed a break. Sliding in a bookmark, she rubbed her eyes and closed the book, finding herself face-to-face with the cover.

As her eyes lazily settled on the shiny maroon surface, her eyes once again found themselves on the name etched onto the surface. Bennet. Written in a smooth, if somewhat rushed handwriting. A symbol of ownership. She blinked slowly as she traced each letter with her eyes, following the blackness of the ink.

Her eyes lidded a little. She felt so tired all of a sudden. Too much time spent doing coursework today, maybe? It was a good thing she was taking a break. Studying could be so boring sometimes, even she had to admit.

It was better to do this. Something about what Charlotte was doing - staring at the book, that name - was starting to feel… good. A drowsy, drippy feeling, that seemed to fade in and out of her attention in a gentle throb, as if her conscious mind were trying to keep hold of something slippery.

Her hands drifted across the cover, fingers lightly caressing the shiny black lettering. She was blinking much slower now. She traced each letter, as her breaths fell deeper. B-E-N-N-E-T.

Something about the curves and lines of each letter filled her with… warmth, maybe? Like the time she’d tried schnapps on her 18th birthday, but… different. She couldn’t really figure it out, but gosh, it was nice, and kind of distracting. She needed to get back to the book, to her studies. Eventually. But she simply couldn't resist how soothing and nice it was to keep rubbing the name.

She liked it. She liked it a lot.

Her fingers pushed down harder onto the black surface, and a distant part of her noticed her pleasurable feelings growing as she did. She could feel the ink beneath her fingers, pulsing as if alive. She dug her thumb into the name and was rewarded with a tiny piece of the black, chalky substance coating her fingertip. A strange thought blossomed in her mind. It wasn’t really the name, that fascinated her. It was the ink.

What about it? The color? The lack thereof, maybe? The black of the ink was deep, darker than she’d ever seen, a void that seemed to pulverize any light around it before it could taint the ink with its luminosity. That darkness signalled to her as dangerous, almost, but she couldn’t for the life of her posit why. It was a perfect darkness, like the quietest, emptiest depths of space were peeking up at her from the cover. From the ink.

It felt oh so yummy to peek back

There was something else, though, in the back of her head. Not a nice feeling. An annoying, clawing one, actually. Something was distracting her. A nagging, insignificant-

Voice.

Her own?

Her daze lifted. Her eyelids fluttered, her fingers freezing mid-caress. A dreamy smile left her face. One she didn’t even remember forming. When had her vision become so blurry?

The ambient pleasure began to fade out of her brain, replaced by the frigid sting of adrenaline. She tore her eyes from the name, flipping the book over so the black etchings were out of her field of view. Fully awake now, she bolted up in her bed and kicked the book away from her, watching it warily as if it might jump up and attack her. She felt something wet on her chin, and she wiped it off, before staring at her fingers in horror.

“Drool? What the fuck?” Her voice cracked as she quickly wiped her fingers off on her blouse. Her stomach dropped as she noticed a small puddle that had collected on the light blue bedspread underneath her, and she quickly dabbed it up and away with her sleeve, leaving a dark wet spot behind.

A shiver crawled up her spine. She could feel a hazy remnant of whatever she’d just been feeling slipping from her body, ghostly sensations that were quickly fading, located in her head, her fingers…

Between her legs?

Her eyes slowly fell to her lower half, sensing a dissipating tingling in between her thighs. She felt hot, and something felt… strange about her panties. Uncomfortably so. She gingerly dipped a hand underneath her skirt and to the fabric barrier covering herself. Damp. She recoiled.

She knew that feeling. It was how she felt when she masturbated, as rare as that was. But that didn't make any sense. Had she been rubbing herself? For how long? How did she not notice?

Was that why it had felt so good?

Shock melted into a distant confusion as everything began slipping away. She could feel the memories dripping out of her head as if someone had pulled a drain plug in her brain, her panic growing dimmer as she forgot distinctly what she was supposed to be panicked about. So many questions, evaporating, like grains of sand falling through her fingers.

She had to hold onto… that strange feeling. That feeling that had felt… good?

Wait, had it?

…

What had?

What had she been doing just now?

She blinked. The last remnants of something seeped from her mind and disappeared. Her eyes floated to the book on the other side of her bed and for some reason a spike of anxiety manifested in her chest. Which was odd. Why was the book over there?

Shouldn't she be studying right now?

Her phone buzzed on her bedside table, ripping her from the state she had found herself in. She drowsily grabbed her phone. It was Kendall. Asking about… Bennet. She’d heard the news through some grapevine, evidently, and seemed to have some reservations about Charlotte having him as a partner.

Charlotte texted back. ‘Yeahhh we're partners. I’ll be going to his place to work on it tomorrow after school,’ Charlotte sat back and stretched out on her bed. Why had her shoulders been so tense? Her phone pinged again. Charlotte furrowed her brow, before replying. ‘Yes, I know you dated him before. So what?’

Kendall was complaining, as per usual. Evidently, her and Bennet’s breakup had been messy, and here she was gossiping in an attempt to poison Charlotte against him, rehashing scandalous rumours that Charlotte was convinced Kendall had made up anyway. It didn’t matter to her - Bennet was a group partner to Charlotte, nothing more.

‘I mean, he was a bit of prick to me about this book in class today. But all things considered, he seems fine, Kendall.’

She wasn’t the type to judge someone by one (slightly embarrassing for both parties) interaction. She’d had plenty of group project hangouts before. Why should this one be any different? She frowned as Kendall reacted to her message with the sobbing emoji.

Kendall texted her once more: ‘Cmon girl, this guys a loser. Youre not at all worried about having to go over to his house?’

Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘No, I’m not worried. Why would I be?’ She hesitated as her finger hovered over the send button, her eyes reading and re-reading her draft text. Unconsciously, she adjusted her panties beneath her skirt.

Her heart felt unusually active in her chest. After a moment, she held her thumb down on the delete button, before sending one final reply.

‘I’ll be careful.’

The apartment was quiet, the silence occasionally broken up by the bubbling of pots or the scraping of pencil on paper. It was Audrey’s turn to make dinner for the pair, so she had started on a nice spaghetti dish while Natalie did her paperwork on the table, starting preparations for an upcoming parent-teacher conference. Audrey couldn’t imagine needing to take work home with her - she’d already changed into her pajamas, a fuzzy pair of dark blue pajama pants and a white bra, and was ready to check out for the night after eating.

Despite their previous chat, Natalie still seemed distracted. She kept gazing out the window, kept slowly rubbing at some unknown spot on her left forearm, and had a permanently wistful expression, one that Audrey had never seen Natalie wear before. At some point Audrey had to drop the marinara sauce she was working on and confront her roommate once more.

She approached from the side, but Natalie didn’t turn to face her. “Hey, seriously. What’s up?”

Natalie just stared forwards, as if lost in some sort of trance. “Uhm… Nothing.”

“You sure? You seem really distracted. And you were crying earlier.”

Natalie responded distantly. “I do? I… was?”

Audrey placed a hand on her roommates' back. Was she dissociating? Natalie had had bouts of dissociation before, but they were very rare. Maybe she could try talking her out of this state?

“Just tell me what’s going on, please.”

Natalie heaved a deep, shuddering breath. “Um…”

“Yeah?”

Her voice was very small. “I… need to go back to him.”

Audrey was taken aback. Him? Who was him? Someone she hadn’t met before? As far as Audrey knew, Natalie didn’t have a brother or father that she was still in contact with.

Audrey studied her friend's face, but Natalie kept staring blankly ahead. Her mind turned. Was she talking about a boyfriend, or something? For as long as they had known each other, Natalie had never once mentioned even having a crush on someone, let alone having a boyfriend to return to. Why was this coming up now?

“What are you talking about?”

Natalie looked up at her with wavering eyes. “My… owner.” Tears streamed down her face, melted eyeliner dripping alongside them. “I can feel it. He needs me. I need him, to t-tell me, what to do.”

Audrey was speechless. Natalie never needed anyone. She was by far the most independent person she knew, In fact, it was one of the traits of her roommate she most admired. But right now, Natalie seemed helpless, even ****. Instantly her mind turned to some kind of burgeoning **** addiction, or manipulation… How long had this been going on?

What the fuck did she mean by Owner?

But Natalie wasn’t done. She rubbed her nose with her hand, sniffled, and then slowly, as if revealing a dark secret, she presented her left arm onto the table. “You don’t understand. Look,” she whispered. “I can make you understand.”

Audrey was baffled. What the hell was Natalie doing?

“Look,” Natalie repeated through tears, as she rubbed a spot on her forearm, hidden underneath the fabric of her sweater. Carefully, hesitantly, as if part of her was fighting back, she began to slowly pull her sleeve down.

Centimeter by centimeter.

Millimeter by millimeter.

Audrey could see the hint of a dark shape revealing itself,

a jet black substance seemingly forming the tops of letters,

a word,

perhaps

even

a

BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP

Both women flinched as the smoke detector in the kitchen sounded off, bringing attention to the flaming remains of a cardboard box of spaghetti that had, at some point, come into contact with an active element and been set alight.

“Shit, shit, sorry!” cried Audrey as she spun towards the kitchen, grabbing an oven mitt hanging from the counter. She gingerly removed the fire hazard, tossing the burnt remains into the sink and twisting the tap, the resulting gush of water drowning the active flame. Shielding her eyes as a wave of steam exploded out of the sink, she began ripping through various drawers in search of a tea towel. Rag in hand, she fanned the air around the beeping smoke alarm, the ear-piercing screams echoing throughout the flat. This was not what either of them needed right now.

Finally, after a couple seconds, the beeping stopped. Audrey sighed, placed the tea towel on the counter and tiredly rubbed her face. “Sorry,” she said, turning around. “What was it you wanted to show…”

But Natalie was gone.