Page 40 of Shadowed With Fear

I wonder what she will be up to tonight. Will Liz be with her? Or is she doing homework? Wrapped up in that fuzzy blanket she has been carrying around with her religiously since the temperature has started to drop. Music playing quietly through her room where she nods her head along with the songs, mouthing each word, pulling all of my attention to her pouty lips.

The side doors of the building burst open, and a large group of students begin their descent down the stairs. There is actually way more than I had anticipated. Nearly half of them look young, too young to be this Ethan guy. Probably freshman or sophomores taking their required class.

A group begins to walk toward the parking lot. A couple guys climb into their trucks, and I think maybe a few sorority girls climb into the SUV.

The van remains, and there is another group standing under the streetlights, the lights of the phones glowing in the night. Waiting for a ride maybe?

After my talk with Professor Logan—Harvey—I called Henry. He was able to get a bit of info for me on this Ethan guy. A couple of the GAs in the psych department had all the things to say about Mr. Nice Guy. He lives in a house down the block, near frat row, with a couple of other people. And what do you know? The alley is a perfect short cut.

He’ll never see me coming. I just have to wait for the perfect moment.

Footsteps.

Quiet footsteps.

Nearly as silent as my own, but there.

I grip the cool metal in my hand, waiting. Always waiting.

I can see between the cracks of the dumpster, he’s a pretty average looking guy. I still don’t remember him though. He’s a little shorter than me, maybe Brahm’s height. Not super muscular, not really skinny. He has brown hair.

He passes the dumpster, none-the-wiser of my presence creeping up behind him. As he rounds the end of the dumpsters, I wrap my hand around his mouth, arm tucked around his ribs, and pull him back into the shadows.

“Ethan Cochrane, I have been dying to speak with you.” I seethe from behind my mask.

His eyes widened and he began to mumble through my hand. I tsk.

“Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast. I hear you’re abusing your power as an assistant for the school, Mr. Cochrane. That isn’t so nice, is it?” I hiss and his eyes narrow. Darkness shadows them. It was instantaneous, almost the same as when Henry turns off every once in a while. This deadened expression looks back at you.

“A little birdy told me that you have been making some,” I pause, tilting my head down at him, “not so nice comments. Suggestions, propositions, the like.”

“What I want to know, Ethan,” I raise him hand, the streetlight shining off the silver laced between my fingers, “is who gave you the goddamn right to think you can speak to a woman that way?”

He tries to speak again, and I shake my head at him, “I don’t really care what you say to me, man. You have my girl scared. A bad kind of scared. She doesn’t feel comfortable coming to school. I don’t like that. Not. One. Bit.” I inch closer with each word.

He doesn’t cower. He doesn’t try to hide. His eyes are still so empty. He looks…bored.

“I’m going to take my hand away. I just want to hear one little magic word, and we’ll forget this ever happened, okay?”

Slowly, my hand lifts from his face, and I can see it. The fucker is smirking at me like that cat that got the canary.

“What? Sorry? You’re shitting me, right?”

The corner of my vision begins to tint red. “No.” I growl.

“Hey, man. Sorry to tell you, but your girl was asking for it. Besides, you gotta remind me,” he pauses, a glint in his dark eyes, “which girl was yours again?”

My fist connects with the side of his face.

Ethan’s head snaps to the right, and he laughs, spitting to the side. “Anything else? I really wanna get home. There’s a Grims game tonight.”

“Listen, you little shit,” my voice is rough, anger dripping from every word. My hands grip him by the throat, pushing him back against the brick wall.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re serious I get it. Maybe you oughta talk to your girl about why she likes having another man’s hands all over her, hmm?”

My hands press further into his throat, his face is reddening, and I can feel the muscles in his neck moving frantically gasping for air, and yet his demeanor hasn’t changed.

“If you touch her, or even think about fucking touch her, I won’t kill you, Ethan.”