Bridgette is about to leave her room when realizes that she put her skirt on
backwards. “Chey!” No response. She spins it around, glad she didn’t leave
the apartment looking like that. Cheyenne would find it funny. “Chey!” Still
no response. “Cheyenne, have you seen my bracelet! I don’t remember when I
last wore it, but it’s not on my nightstand!” Why isn’t she responding? She
needs to sleep a lot, even with the Insulator of Life, there’s no way she
beat her out of bed this morning. She opens her door, and reaches over to
knock on Cheyenne’s. “Are you there?” What is up with this? She takes the
liberty of opening Cheyenne’s door. At first, it’s like she doesn’t see what
she’s seeing. That’s not her, hanging there. It’s a big decoration for some
kind of holiday that she’s not that familiar with. It’s a...it’s an
illusion. There’s nothing there at all. This is some kind of trick. That
Alyssa girl can make you see things, right. But why would she do that? Why
would she make her see her best friend hanging from the rafter? That’s sick.
This is sick. It’s a sick joke. “Help!” She flips the upturned chair
upright, and jumps onto it, holding Cheyenne by the waist as high as she
can. “HELP!” she screams again.
“The door is locked!” someone on the other side of it muffles back.
“Break it down!”
“Mateo!”
Mateo suddenly appears in the common area of the apartment.
“Get a knife!” Bridgette orders.
Mateo grabs a kitchen knife from the block. He runs into the room, squeezes
himself onto the chair with her, and slices through the bedsheet. He tosses
the knife to the corner just in time to catch them both before they fall to
the floor.
Bridgette scrambles to remove the sheet from Cheyenne’s neck. She doesn’t
check for a pulse, or a breath. She goes right into chest compressions and
rescue breaths. By now, Leona and others have rushed into the apartment,
having retrieved the master key.
Leona kneels down and takes Cheyenne’s wrist for some reason. “She’s gone.”
“No!”
“She’s cold,” Leona explains solemnly.
“So? It’s a little cold today. It’s the first day of fall, isn’t it?”
Bridgette keeps going.
“Bridgette, stop.”
Bridgette stops. Her hands come off of her friend’s dead body, and land on
her own knees as she leans back. “She’s so cold,” she agrees, tearing up.
“She did this last night. Either I was here, or I came in, and didn’t check
on her like I usually do. Why didn’t I check on her? If I had just...”
“Where is the Insulator of Life?” Mateo asks, looking around the room.
“Is that all you people care about?”
Leona takes both Bridgette’s hands in hers. “If it’s not here, where would
it have gone? Would she have put it somewhere else?”
Bridgette wipes the saltwater from her eyes, and looks around too. “No. You
were done with it, so she would have brought it back here, where it
belongs.”
“She did,” Kivi says. “We were chatting, so I followed her in. I saw her set
it on her desk.”
“And she wasn’t suicidal, right?” Leona asks.
“No, of course not.”
Leona looks up at Ramses, who sighs, and shuts his eyes in sadness and fear.
“The boo-boo cage is on, right?”
“Yes,” Leona answers.
Ramses takes a little remote out of his pocket, and presses a button,
dropping the remote in time for it to not teleport with him.
“Angela, check the security feeds. I want to know everything that happened
in this building since I let who we thought was Ramses out of that cage.”
“You have a client meeting today,” Alyssa points out.
“You take it,” Angela requests.
“I’m not qualified or experienced, I’m just the receptionist.”
“You helped me edit the discussion notes. You know the material. I trust
you. I need to watch the feeds. My mind can absorb the footage better than
normal people.”
“Shouldn’t Kivi do it instead?” Alyssa suggests.
“Kivi needs to find someone for me,” Leona says, standing up.
“Who?” Bridgette questions.
“Erlendr Preston,” Leona answers with a burning hatred. “We may be able to
rewrite history.”
Mateo wraps Cheyenne’s body in her blanket, and carries her out of the
apartment. Bridgette doesn’t know where he’s taking her, or what they’re
going to do with it. They’re not really a part of society anymore. Would
they even be able to call the authorities on this matter? No, they have to
handle it in-house. When they find out who did this, be it Ramses, Erlendr
in Ramses’ body, or a random burglar, Bridgette is gonna deal with it
herself. She’ll hurt anyone who tries to get in her way. They’re going to
answer for their crimes, and she’s the only one who gets to determine what
that means.
Leona doesn’t feel like it’s good for Bridgette’s mental health to be at The
Lofts right now, so Marie escorts her to the condo. Heath has been sleeping
in his old master bedroom, and Arcadia and Vearden sleep together, so that
leaves the smaller room free for Bridgette’s use. She woke up well-rested
this morning, but she’s feeling so tired. She can’t even keep her eyes open.
She passes out on the bed.
She doesn’t wake up until night has fallen. The other four, including Marie,
are sitting in the living room. “I’m hungry.”
“We’re warming a dish for you,” Vearden says, standing up, and heading for
the kitchen area to retrieve it.
“What is it you people like to say,” Bridgette begins, “report?”
“Please, sit,” Marie recommends. “Angela finished with the security footage.
The whereabouts of Ramses’ body has been accounted for all day yesterday,
and all this morning. He fell asleep in his lab, having missed out on a lot
of work, so a camera was always on him.” She hesitates to continue.
“Say it.”
“Andile Mhlangu was seen leaving your apartment, going down the stairs, and
exiting through the side door.”
“I can’t remember who was in her body,” Bridgette admits.
Marie nods. “It was the man we’ve been looking for, Meredarchos.”
Bridgette nods. “That’s good,” she decides.
“Why would that be good?” Heath asks, afraid of the answer.
“Andile doesn’t need her body anymore, unlike Ramses. That means I can kill
it.”
