Virgin in the Veins

Virgin in the Veins

Julian Harvey

Copyright © 2022 Julian Harvey

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 979-8-88654-892-1 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88654-885-3 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Epilogue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

About the Author

Chapter One 1

Chapter Two 11

Chapter Three 18

Chapter Four 25

Chapter Five 34

Chapter Six 43

Chapter Seven 49

Chapter Eight 56

Chapter Nine 61

Chapter Ten 66

Chapter Eleven 74

Chapter Twelve 79

Chapter Thirteen 86

Chapter Fourteen 89

Chapter Fifteen 97

Chapter Sixteen 107

Chapter Seventeen 113

Chapter Eighteen 123

Chapter Nineteen 131

Chapter Twenty 135

Chapter Twenty-One 142

Chapter Twenty-Two 152

Chapter Twenty-Three 156

Chapter Twenty-Four 165

Chapter Twenty-Five 171

Chapter Twenty-Six 176

Chapter Twenty-Seven 181

Chapter Twenty-Eight 188

Chapter Twenty-Nine 198

Chapter Thirty 205

Chapter Thirty-One 210

Chapter Thirty-Two 219

Chapter Thirty-Three 223

Chapter Thirty-Four 230

Chapter Thirty-Five 236

Chapter Thirty-Six 243

Chapter Thirty-Seven 252

Chapter Thirty-Eight 261

Chapter Thirty-Nine 265

Chapter Forty 273

Chapter Forty-One 277

Chapter Forty-Two 283

Chapter Forty-Three 290

Chapter Forty-Four 295

Chapter Forty-Five 301

Chapter Forty-Six 306

Chapter Forty-Seven 312

Chapter Forty-Eight 317

Chapter Forty-Nine 320

Chapter Fifty 324

Chapter Fifty-One 329

Chapter Fifty-Two 335

Chapter Fifty-Three 344

Acknowledgments

To Dellguan Coleman and Debra Brandon, I want to thank you wholeheartedly for believing in my vision of storytelling in regard to my very first thriller novel. You gave me the tools and exploration components I need to carry out our story. Your patience and support have been the roots to keep me consistent on this project. Therefore, our story will reach the masses.

This story is a contemporary piece of fantasy depiction based on real-life issues. This is to any of the men and women in the world who have been the victim of peer pressure sex, enforcement of rape, molestation, drug usage, loss of a loved one, abandonment, homelessness, depression, illnesses, or mental/verbal/physical abuse of an individual or one's own doing. The thought of being impure is only true to those who make it out to be as such.

The beauty of one's self is the art of singularity.

Being singular and facing your atrocities is the willpower that most people should convert to in order to help out another peer of theirs. And being pure doesn't necessarily have to mean you have a clean interior of your body, but it is in constitution to your morals and mindset that helps get you through the hard times.

And for me to write this piece… I would like to reach the world of not just the individuals that relate on a different level than others but to reach the majority of people that can relay compassion on the subjects that matter the most. It's our duty as humans to grow a foundation of support and understanding to prevent adversaries such as the ones I mentioned from tainting the lives of the public.

To my fellow readers, remember these fine words in resonance to your heart…

To be pure in a world where people considers it to be contaminated is not impossible. The only way it becomes impossible is if you don't value yourself and the resources that keeps your life in culmination.

—Mr. Prodi-j Himself

Epilogue

Mason, Tennessee, West, Tennessee Detention Facility

The thought of spending a lifetime in a facility that constantly reminds a person of their mistakes is an inability itself. It can play tricks on a person as if you're going against yourself in chess. Just when someone thinks they may have healed from their atrocities, one's proclivity reoccurs without warning.

The thumps within the heart is the universe's way of permeating all the unfavorable deeds implicated on one's self as a candid gesture of forbearance. The toughest part about looking forward is the distraction one is admonished with as they stare back at what they think is growth. Growth is not inevitable to the people who are victims of their own defeat.

There he sits in his cell with literary poetry handwritten while attached to his walls, poetry he has created himself—the melancholic diction, the anger within the amount of force written on the paper, so angry that the words can be read from the other side. There is the sound of scribbling of the pencils as he messes up on a sheet of paper. He taps the pencil against the table, puzzled at his own imagination. Because he has no sense of inspiration, he places his pencil down and reads to himself what he has written so far on the paper.

As another day goes by, the core of my heart seems to fail me…

What's to say I end up losing sight of a vital need…

Traces of my faith run week in, week out…

Driving myself crazy on the thought of doubt…

Flooding the gates of the firm wall…

While protecting myself from the long fall…

As I search for the inner peace…

I must accept my battle as true defeat.

There is no motivation in his speaking. Instead, he lives to hear his dreadful sound of missing compassion. Because he is behind closed bars and walls, there is no escape physically and mentally.

The sound of an officer's baton is scraped across the cement walls and doors of the cells. The correctional officer uses his baton to knock on the cell door. The inmate looks over at the officer. The officer responds, Let's go, inmate. Your session is here.

The inmate gets up from his chair and walks up to the door. He places both of his fists outside the slot for restraints. The correctional officer cuffs his wrists together. After applying the handcuffs on the inmate, he vocalizes for the guard in the control room, Open cell door three. The correctional officer in the control room opens the door.

The inmate stands up patiently as he is waiting to be directed by the officer. The officer waves the inmate out with his baton. The inmate abides by the officer's request. The officer puts his baton away. Before you shut the door, can you get that piece of paper on the table? The officer agrees to get it for him. The officer enters and grabs the paper for the inmate.

The correctional officer exits and gives the paper to him. The officer gestures with his hand to close cell three. Close cell three! The officer in the control room grants the request of shutting the cell three door. The officer directs the inmate down the hall.

After a brief walk from one end of the hall to the next end, the doors open as the inmate and correctional officer arrive in the examination sector of the facility. The officer knocks on the window to get the guard to open up the doors in the examination room. Through the window, the inmate identifies his well-dressed, mystified, appointed counselor in his middle twenties. The counselor's hat is tilted downward as if he is a new age Sherlock Holmes.

As he prepares his notes for his session, he uses his cellular device as a recording reference. The counselor has yet to turn it on. The doors to the room open; the inmate enters with an intangible demeanor. He walks up to the table, staring at the counselor.

Inside the dim room, there is a beam of light slightly angled in the direction of the inmate. He is unable to view the expression of the counselor due to his seating position. The inmate stands behind his chair. The correctional officer stands in the doorway as a spectator. The young counselor puts out his hand as the light hits it—gesturing for the correctional officer to leave out.

The officer abides by the counselor's ordinance. He exits the room.

Then the counselor gestures for the inmate to sit down. The inmate sits down, civilized and composed, placing his paper on the table. The light reveals his emotional expressions more clearly.

The counselor starts the recording on his cellular device. The counselor makes the initiative of greeting first. Good evening!

The inmate gives the same courtesy to him. Evening! The mood and light environment is a representation of the interaction between the two men and what one expects the other to seek for himself.

The counselor has curiosity. It was brought to my attention that you requested my return a er our last encounter.

The inmate places his cuffed palms together, resting on the table. My approach was profoundly demeaning. Someone who was raised on respect proved no other shamefaced behavior. I was… I was intimidated by someone who is younger than me to hear them out.

The counselor respects the honesty given. He makes eye contact with the counselor, continuing to express his inner feelings. I am more so surprised you returned out of good mercy. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't show up. The counselor speaks calmly and humbly to reassure the service of his client. My job is to not reprimand my clients due to their emotional state exhibited. That happens naturally. I can't speak for other counselors.

The inmate respects the approach. I actually did the exercise from last week.

The counselor is impressed. Is that right? The inmate slightly nods.

The counselor asks if he is interested in reading it. Would you like to read it?

The inmate informs him that it is partially written. It's kind of not done.

The counselor shows compassion with what he does have. What's important is the fact you made an effort.

The inmate accredits himself on his evincible effort. He slides the paper closer to him so he can read it to the counselor. He gives another look up at the counselor for approval. The counselor gestures with his hand for the inmate to read his thoughts. He clears his throat and reads with a decent pace. The counselor nods for approval. The inmate begins to read…

As another day goes by, the core of my heart seems to fail me…

What's to say I end up losing sight of a vital need…

The counselor begins to take notes. The inmate pauses briefly as he watches the counselor, then he proceeds to speak. The counselor highlights important words that are a heavy influence on the inmate's character.

Traces of my faith runs week in, week out…

Driving myself crazy on the thought of doubt…

Flooding the gates of the firm wall…

While protecting myself from the long fall…

As I search for the inner peace…

I must accept my battle as true defeat.

The counselor nods as he writes down more notes in his filing folder. The counselor's predilection of poetry is a favorable direction to go in when understanding one's self. Poetry is the best way to express feelings. There are no corrections implemented when the heart is spoken above all things.

The inmate responds, Which is why it's so hard to come up with an ending.

The counselor has his pen ready for notes. The ending will represent a whole new chapter.

The counselor proceeds to ask the inmate a question. How would you like the story to end?

The inmate turns the paper over. He shakes his head. I don't think it really matters now.

The counselor responds, It doesn't, I beg to differ!

The inmate is curious at the counselor's contrariety. Why is that?

The counselor gives an explanation. If it didn't matter, you wouldn't have me here to help you.

The inmate tests the counselor's inquisitiveness. Fair enough! But these types of stories have no good ending.

The counselor digs more into the statement. "Don't you think that all stories should have good endings?"

The inmate rests his head on his fists as he gives his input on the question. Not to burst your bubble, Counselor, but there is a difference between telling a story and altering the ending…from a person, facing the reality and living with it for a lifetime.

The inmate continues, There is nothing fairytale about imprisonment.

The counselor writes down even more notes. As he stops, he reminds the inmate of a name. Is that why you mentioned the name ‘Cayleb' the last time?

The counselor gives the name another reference. Cayleb James or CJ…what is his significance to you?

The inmate is somewhat triggered by the name. Cayleb died a long time ago.

The counselor tilts his head as he views an emotionally composed individual with a story untold. How connected were you to Cayleb?

The inmate responds, No one knew him like I did.

The counselor is curious about the subject. You want to enlighten me about him?

The inmate inhales then exhales…in preparation of him telling what he knows. Cayleb was definitely a guy of good intentions…extremely smart, goal-oriented—hell, he was a pretty boy who charmed the females he encountered.

The inmate continues speaking. He even wanted to be a psychologist, something along the spectrum of your duties.

The counselor nods with interest. Interesting!

The inmate goes on with his statement. Before Cayleb's death…he did not have to want for anything because he worked for everything he wanted, including a crowd that respected him to the fullest. There have been many times he had the opportunity to wake up to the light.

Chapter One

Externally Bonded

Memphis, Tennessee, a little over two decades ago

The feeling of sentimental consciousness while sleeping is once again the epitome of what keeps him confined. You wouldn't know what was thought of, the feeling within his world of wonders.

Here Cayleb lays in his bed like an overworked mannequin planted in one position—not facing the ceiling, his body positioned face down within the abyss of his pillows.

This is the peak of his reality. He is a twenty-three-year-old headstrong upperclassman who has a TA position for two advanced courses, the co-captain for the KAPPA ALPHA PSI, the list goes on. As bright as he is, he inspires every individual who comes into his path. He is on the road to valedictorian, the most likely to succeed great measures of life; anybody would be expedient for a friendship.

He is also compatible with his textbooks, notepads, sticky note coordination, pens, and highlighters that lie alongside with him. He sleeps comfortably in a spacious room…walls of certificates, plaques, sportsmanship trophies, even framed photos of his glorious basketball memories, homecoming, and prom royalty days. Anyone who would enter his room would think that he was already monumentally established.

A young man of his stature and reputation is highly favored. His life resorts to restless nights of studying and prioritizing. He is the top student in his class, who is a very respectable person within his community. All his great achievements are managed very well.

The door to his room opens with ease. Cayleb remains in his bed sleeping as he slightly moves around from the sound of his bedroom door. An unidentified female with a nice physique walks in, sprinkling rose petals on the carpet. The trail of rose petals leads closer and closer to the bed. Cayleb remains within his peaceful realm of sleep. More and more rose petals fall onto the bed, leading from the ends of Cayleb's legs to his back, all the way to his neck.

The woman grabs a handful of rose petals and decides to blow them toward Cayleb's face. Cayleb lifts his head as a few more rose petals fall in front of his face. His eyes are squinted in confusion, then the warm pair of hands caress the temple of his head—fingers on each side, encompassing the nerves within his cells.

There's no better feeling in the world than the graceful tingles from heaven, stimulating chills from head to toe throughout his body. He slowly lights up until the voice of the woman whispers in his ear, Don't resist, darling, Let me take good care of you. I want you to feel like the royal king you are, sweetheart.

A voice like hers is velvety and alluring, almost unforgettable. Cayleb begins to place his arms on the side of his waist to feel more immobilized with the relaxation process. He wiggles his fingers around as certain spots are tender and ticklish to him.

The hairs on his body stand up like a magnet of vibration. He doesn't resist her touch—he lowers his chin onto the pillow for a cushion of settlement. Cayleb relaxes just like he was told. You have no idea how long I—he groans with pleasure, but his words begin to slur—yearned for…something like this… She masters the pressure points applied to Cayleb's most tender locations. If only you were here sooner, I…

The mystery woman places her finger over his lips, causing him to discontinue speaking. She drifts her finger away from his lips. Shhhhhhhh…let me take care of you, Cayleb. This is all for you.

Cayleb realizes he has just fallen victim to his own complacency. All for me, you say?

She continues rubbing his head. She whispers in his ear, All for you.

His state of mind is 50 percent conscious yet discombobulated whether or not this good treatment is out of good fortune or to use peer pressure for a sexual drive in him. Instead, he doesn't think; he would rather just shut his eyes. The mystery woman is giving him the best massage and relaxation that he could ever ask for.

She begins to cascade her hands on top of his head, moving on to his neck. She smooths the back of his neck with her two thumbs. The pressure she applies to his neck is just the relief Cayleb needs as he releases an exhale of enjoyment. He gains a smile on his face. Cayleb curls his toes as the satisfaction of chills starts to pressurize his inner zeal. She kisses Cayleb's earlobes, whispering into his ear again. Does this feel good? He nods as if he is hypnotized. She grabs a petal and begins to bring it down Cayleb's bare neck.

He contorts his muscles inward as soon as the petal reaches the center of his back. Cayleb finally turns over. The woman sits over him. "Cayleb… Cayleb!" His eyes are squinted of tiredness. The beam from the bright sunlight begins to help him open his eyes fully. From that moment, he sees the light.

What seemed to be a dream leaves Cayleb with his head tilted back on the bench, saliva draining from his lips. Next to him is his upbeat friend named Paige. She calls his name into reality. Cayleb James… CJ!

Paige leans over, a bit apprehensive of his reaction, snapping her fingers in his face. Wake up, big head!

After she has called his name several times, he begins to rise on the bench. I've seen the light. He feels a weird, tightening feeling below; he looks down at his erection. He is ashamed and embarrassed when he recognizes Paige sitting on the bench with him.

The shock within Paige's eyes when she leans back from the unforgettable scene leaves him in discountenance. The words can't come out; instead, he stutters until she responds quickly to help relieve a buildup of resentment. She passes him a napkin from her bag. CJ, please wipe your mouth. He touches the side of his face and feels his saliva. He grabs the napkin and wipes it from his face.

From that moment, he questions himself on why boys and men are put in a compromising situation with their sexual limb. I wish us guys were a little more discreet. His best alternative is to cover himself with his book bag. Cayleb thinks to himself if Paige never witnessed what just happened, he would feel less embarrassed.

Paige makes eye contact with him, but she composes herself with laughter. "Damn, someone was working a number on you, child."

Cayleb shakes his head. It's natural for a man to get aroused. Just forget this moment ever happened, Paige.

Paige looks away, laughing. Sure, this moment is permanently erect… I mean erased. Cayleb looks at her with a serious expression. Paige discontinues the jokes and agrees to let it go. This won't ever be brought up. She gestures a nod to confirm his concordance to her request.

Cayleb looks around him, playing it cool. Her vitality approach is the first thing he adores. A pretty girl with a nonchalant, boyish attitude may seem too intimidating. Cayleb and Paige are high school buddies with similar qualities. Both of them look up to one another. Whatever one person doesn't have, the other person makes up for. They know each other well enough to not hold anything against one another. This particular instance, Cayleb has a battle he is facing. The thought of her asking him how he is doing never surprises him till now.

Ironically, it leaves him puzzled—an urge to formulate an excuse. Unfortunately, as inquisitive as his mind tends to be, he thinks he would deflect his unusual act of impulse. She asks him, Are you okay?

Instead, he answers a question with a question: Why wouldn't I be? And from there on, she has reminded him of his absence.

To him, the thought of being absent isn't intentional, but everyone tends to have the thought of obscurity reminiscing through their minds. Aw, sis, what makes you think I have been absent?

Paige responds, I don't know. You are sometimes in a different mindset.

According to Paige, nothing gets by her. Cayleb's approach to all this is the fact of having loads of anxiety. Paige's eyebrows are arched up. "Anxiety, you say?" But of course she jokes around the idea. She asks him if his sudden fear has anything to do with girls. Cayleb contemplates on the dream.

The more he thinks about the dream, the more it wedges his erection upward to the point he has to lean a bit more forward. Cayleb clears his throat to not give any further suspicion to Paige. Instead, she digs through her bag to find a piece of gum. Where are you hiding? Here you are. Paige unravels the paper then chews a piece of gum.

She throws the paper back in her bag. Cayleb has a quick glimpse of a pregnancy test. Jokingly he returns the favor of being facetious. How are your tastebuds?

She smacks her gum even louder. She responds with, Uh, do you really have to ask? rubbing her belly.

Cayleb leans back and responds with, And rubbing your belly I see.

She has a smirk upon her face. So what? I get hungry like every ten seconds. Nothing new.

He goes on. Maybe someone is cooking a bun in the oven.

Paige begins to put two and two together. Oh you think… She bursts out into laughter. Boy, you tried it… I think I would know if I was cooking up a bun.

He looks at her stomach, skeptical. Whatever you say!

She smacks him across the shoulder playfully. I'm serious. Nate and I are still young and embracing new opportunities. She gets comfortable on the bench. You do know that Danielle and I were walking from Professor Ingram's course. She said she invited you to her party tonight.

Cayleb nods. Yeah, she asked me!

Paige patiently waits for his reciprocation. And you said?

Cayleb shrugs. I haven't decided.

Paige rolls her eyes with sass. Cayleb, why are you holding out on that girl?

Cayleb looks in confusion. I'm not holding out on anything. If anything, she is enforcing a milestone of uncertainty. Have you forgotten I major in psychology?

Paige tries to waive Cayleb's and Danielle's feelings as a mutual ground of understanding. She might be doing study sessions with you to gravitate towards you, but you have to admit you sparked her in a way that no other guys had done. Paige has a look of being proud of his mannerisms.

Cayleb hears her out. Even if you feel neurotic about the connection you have with her, she needs someone to help influence her. She has a lot to learn about herself, and her self-confidence is the start of it. But you, on the other hand, are going over and beyond. You don't have to worry about anyone setting you back.

It's those comforting words that have fulfilled his status over the years. He sighs as if that is not enough. But deep down inside, he knows if his mother were alive, she would implant the same words into his mind. She finds inclination with Cayleb's pondering mindset. What are you thinking?

Cayleb rubs his forehead as a way of expressing himself. Nothing, it's uh…well, my mom said something exactly like what you just said. It also made me think of how Ms. Garnett does her fortune readings. As a kid, I overheard her telling one of her clients that…what you don't see is there. The spirit leaves behind synchronicities.

She listens closely.

I don't think it's the direction we should worry about. More so what lies at the end is what we should be mindful of.

Paige agrees with his statement. And these are the many reasons you're adored.

Cayleb smiles for the fact he needed reassurance from his best friend.

She places her hand on his shoulder. Try not to think. Come with your best friend to the party tonight. There's nothing hard about living in the moment. Let's be honest—you never had a problem with that before.

Cayleb sighs. I've grown up from that point on. But if it would make you happy…

Paige interrupts Cayleb's response, It would make me happy.

Cayleb nods in agreement to go to the party. Say less. On rare occasions such as these, you'll get James for a night.

Paige stands. Excited! Danielle should thank me! Oooh, I just thought about something. Me, you, Nate, and Danielle can be cousins.

Cayleb is beginning to regret his decision. Paige, do me a favor. Don't push it, sis! I would appreciate it if you just live in the moment.

Paige is sarcastically appreciative of his dedication to listening. That's what I'm talking about. You get the essence of what I'm saying. Let's go. I'll drop you off at home.

Cayleb is adamant about getting up from his seat. Paige waits with confusion. Paige, just look the other way real quick.

Paige honors his requests. I swear I'm so glad I don't have a penis.

Cayleb checks his lower genital limb; he looks up. Cayleb gets up to his feet. He grabs his book bag. Everything is good down there, Paige.

She rolls her eyes. Oh, lovely! Cayleb smirks at her attitude as his embarrassment from earlier is no longer present.

Paige and Cayleb walk away from the bench. They walk into the parking lot where students of different ranks greet themselves and show respect to Cayleb.

Cayleb gestures a nod to his friend Nate, along with his frat brothers, saluting him from far away. All his frat brothers address him as Big Brother Sir Wolf, goes everywhere with the pack. Cayleb proceeds to walk through the parking lot with a strong demeanor of significance.

There is also a group of sorority girls flirting with their eyes as Cayleb walks in their presence. Cayleb smiles big. What's up, ladies?

The sorority girls wave at him. One of them plays with a blow pop in her mouth. Excuse me, Mr. Teacher's Assistant, do you think you can further explain the historical significance of human anatomy?

Cayleb turns into her direction with a confident smirk. Trisha, you haven't been paying attention in Professor Walsh's course.

She looks guilty and explains her reasoning flirtatiously. Well, you know how the professor sounds throughout the whole period. And honestly, you're much more of a better teacher than she is. You're just very resourceful. She winks at him.

Cayleb raises his eyebrow. Well, my office hours are closed at the moment. The rest of the sorority girls giggle in interest. But I will send you some…links. He plays into her game and pulls out his phone already on the dial log.

Trisha is fascinated by his swagger approach. I hope these links are useful.

Cayleb lifts his eyebrows as if his intelligence is being questioned. Well, I wouldn't send you the links if I knew the information wasn't infallible.

She grabs his phone and types in her number. I'll be waiting for that call. She gives the phone back to him.

He looks at the number and places his phone back into his pocket. He switches his flirtatious demeanor into a much more serious expression that turns her on. I expect no slacking in my sessions, no distractions. Cayleb makes the rest of the sorority girls in favor of his masculinity.

They giggle off his response. She responds, Yes, Professor Palmer, no slacking!

He leans in by her ear to whisper in her ear, And no distractions. He winks at the other girls behind her. He backs away from Autumn with a confident smirk. Cayleb turns around and makes his way back to Paige.

Paige responds to him, CJ, you are going to get enough of leading these girls on.

Cayleb comments on Paige's statement, Umm hmm! Keyword, girls. Girls that act like that are not in tune to being the woman that I see myself desiring.

As he walks past them, he is greeted by more groups, a punk group with some ethnic diversity in it; their notable features are the tattoos and piercings that seem like a scene out of a horror film.

Not to mention a group of hippies that value the peace ideal…graffiti artists, stoners, break dancers, students that are referred to as nerds. To Cayleb, college is supposed to be for mature adults, an institution where everybody can be one. Paige, it feels like we haven't left high school. Nothing feels versatile, same old divide within groups.

She looks around. Internally we are the same. Unlike you, I don't have the skill to turn on and off when adapting to the environment of others.

Paige walks up to her car but notices a flyer about a most recent house fire under her windshield wiper. This is the third damn flyer I've seen today. She grabs the flyer and enters her car.

Cayleb enters the car and wonders what it is about. Well, what is it about? I have been completely oblivious to things today.

Paige passes the flyer to him so he can read it. The conceptual image of the burned-down home is disturbing as if the lives lost were not significant. This is sick.

Paige agrees with Cayleb. Which is why I don't take a lot of fake reporters seriously. I just don't understand why anyone would go that far to paint a narrative on the kid who supposedly started a house fire while home alone. A fire show, really!

Cayleb is curious. Was there a clear indication that the kid was found dead?

Paige starts up her vehicle. They never found his body, only the parents.

Cayleb is in shock. His parents…are you sure?

Paige shrugs, just as surprised.

Cayleb folds the flyer. Why would a child set their home on fire with the parents inside? Cayleb places the flyer in his book bag. A part of Cayleb realizes a sudden coincidence. Wait, did you receive an amber alert in regards to a person by the name of Jordan Phoenix?

Paige nods. At around 10:30 this morning, I'm sure everybody had to also receive it.

Paige notices her boyfriend, Nate, interacting with one of the sorority girls. Cayleb pays attention also. They aren't doing anything, sis. Bonita has a tendency to flirt with a lot of people.

Paige chuckles. You honestly think I'm worried about HO-LANA.

Cayleb shakes his head with a sudden amusement. You are not right, sis? She shrugs. Anyways, when you're considered to be one of the most popular people around school, of course reputations are important. Cayleb is intrigued with Paige's principles. Is that right?

Paige continues explaining. I allow my boyfriend to do him, but he knows any physical contact with any girls is a no-no. He needs me around to get him all the way together.

Cayleb raises his eyebrow. I have a pretty good idea what type of men you'll be raising. Paige pulls away from her parking spot. Cayleb contemplates on the incident with Jordan Phoenix's family. He feels there is way more to the story.

Chapter Two

We're All Being Watched

In the middle of the afternoon, where the sun has descended from its peak, a police vehicle is stationed in front of an elderly lady's house. The police officer is tall, well-built, in his late twenties. He has been on the police force for a year and is very committed to his work. People around the community respect his good services even if he is a young rookie.

He scribbles some notes down on his notepad; according to this matter, he is somewhat questionable of the matter. He scratches his head with his pen, trying to understand the discrepancy.

She looks closely at the dirt specks and the miniature-sized paw prints through her magnifying glass. She shakes slightly with her right arm, as she examines the inner sector of her property. Around the community, Ms. Garnett is referred to as the caregiver, because a lot of young adults were nurtured by her in her daycare system years back.

But over the years she went through mental phases of minimal memory loss. There are times where she remembers a small detail, but people would have to explain the expansion of the narrative.

Officer Calvin repeats her statement. Ms. Garnett, you have a reasonable suspicion that someone is interfering with your plants. She sits with her knees crouched on the dirt. She looks up at Officer Calvin with her magnifying glass. I know for a fact somebody has been messing up my plants. Isn't it obvious?

Ms. Garnett's grandson, Drew, seeks reassurance on her logic. What's obvious, Grandma? She looks at Drew.

The footprints, dammit…whoever stepped on it has big feet. Officer Calvin puts away his pen and mini notepad