Monster in His Eyes
Page 78
The man shrugged a shoulder, absently tapping his pointer stick against the hard floor. “Nobody knows. Maybe it's both.”
Standing in my dorm room so many months later, surrounded by all of my things, jet-legged and feeling out of place, I think I finally understand it. I'm not the same person who left here forty-eight hours ago.
And when Melody bursts in, wide-eyed and frantic, I seem to instinctively know: this place isn't the same, either. Minutes, hours, days passed... time that changed me, time I can never get back or experience here. Time I wasn't around for.
Lost time.
It changes everything.
Melody's breathing hard, staring at me like a mad woman. I freeze in front of my closet, a stack of hangers in my hand as I prepare to pack them in a cardboard box. Her eyes hold secrets she's desperate to spill, but I can tell from her expression they might not be ones I want to hear.
"Have you heard?" she asks, her eyes flickering toward my desk, where Naz quietly stacks up my books, his back to us.
"What?"
"Satan," she says, shutting the door. "He's dead!"
I blink rapidly. "Huh?"
"Satan," she says again. "Santino! He's dead!"
My stomach sinks, everything inside of me coiling, barely holding the swell of nausea down. I have a million questions, but all that sputters out are mere syllables. "What? When? How?"
"It happened Thursday… or Friday. I don't know. But somebody killed him! They stabbed him or something... impaled him." Her voice drops low, cracking as she steps toward me. "They said it was his pointer thingy, that the stick was like, stuck, in his chest! Can you believe it?"
I can't. Her words hit me, bouncing off the surface, refusing to sink in. How can he be dead? "Who did it? Who killed him?"
"Don't know," she says. "The police are investigating, but I don't think they've arrested anyone. It's just... wow. Someone killed him."
"Who would do such a thing?" I look at Naz, who is packing up my books in silence. "Naz?"
He turns at the sound of his name, raising his eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Professor Santino... he's dead!"
His expression is stoic. "I heard."
"Can you believe it?"
"Yes," he says, his curt answer catching me off guard. "I'm only amazed it didn't happen sooner."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Daniel didn't have a lot of friends, Karissa," he says. "It was only a matter of time before he pushed the wrong button."
I stare at him. How can he be so unaffected? Sure, Santino wasn't nice, but Naz knew the man.
Melody clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her. She launches into conspiracy theories, who could've done what and why and how, like this is a game of Clue and she can riddle it out with the right game pieces. I listen to her, my attention consistently shifting to Naz. He steadily packs, but I can tell he's listening.
"It's just so crazy," Melody says after a moment. "Thank God we're moving out this week. I don't know if I feel safe here right now, you know? It's creepy."
"I know," I whisper. "My mom always said New York was too dangerous."
A loud whack echoes through the room. I flinch as Melody gasps. My eyes dart to Naz in shock as he reaches down and picks up a textbook from the floor that he dropped. Wordlessly, he places it in the box, continuing on with the others, as if he hadn't interrupted.
"So you're packing now," Melody says. "Are you going home for the summer?"
Before I can respond, Naz interjects. "Forever."
"What?" Melody asks.
"She's going home forever," Naz clarifies.
Melody's gaze shifts between us. "Wait, what? You're moving back in with your mother?"
"No," I say quietly. "I'm moving in with Naz."
These were things I hadn't given much thought to last night. In fact, it didn't really hit me until we landed in New Jersey and Naz told me he'd help me gather my things to move in.
I told him that was crazy; I couldn't live with him.
He told me it would be crazy not to, considering we were engaged.
Melody stares at me with shock, and I almost feel guilty. The girl doesn't know the half of it yet.
"You're moving in together?" she gasps. "Already?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Are you ready for all that?"
Such a loaded question, one I'm not even sure the answer to. Before I can conjure up a response, Naz chimes in, laying it all out on the table. "I certainly hope she's ready, considering she agreed to marry me."
Melody looks like she's been slapped, her eyes so wide I'm surprised they haven't popped out of their sockets. She just stares at me, and I smile sheepishly, holding out my hand to show her the ring.
I expect her to be confused.
Maybe even angry.
But I don't anticipate her excitement.
She lets out the loudest shriek as she grabs my hand, jumping up and down with delight, yelling at me to spill every last detail. I explain what I can, what I remember. It's not much of a story, but the dreamy look she gets in her eyes tells me it's enough to make her swoon.
Naz remains quiet throughout my story.
He's still packing like it's the only thing that matters.
Melody is rambling too fast for me to keep up when a series of familiar beeps rings out in the room, interrupting her train of thought. Naz pulls out his phone, glancing at it, and turns to me. "I have to get going. Have something to handle for work."
Standing in my dorm room so many months later, surrounded by all of my things, jet-legged and feeling out of place, I think I finally understand it. I'm not the same person who left here forty-eight hours ago.
And when Melody bursts in, wide-eyed and frantic, I seem to instinctively know: this place isn't the same, either. Minutes, hours, days passed... time that changed me, time I can never get back or experience here. Time I wasn't around for.
Lost time.
It changes everything.
Melody's breathing hard, staring at me like a mad woman. I freeze in front of my closet, a stack of hangers in my hand as I prepare to pack them in a cardboard box. Her eyes hold secrets she's desperate to spill, but I can tell from her expression they might not be ones I want to hear.
"Have you heard?" she asks, her eyes flickering toward my desk, where Naz quietly stacks up my books, his back to us.
"What?"
"Satan," she says, shutting the door. "He's dead!"
I blink rapidly. "Huh?"
"Satan," she says again. "Santino! He's dead!"
My stomach sinks, everything inside of me coiling, barely holding the swell of nausea down. I have a million questions, but all that sputters out are mere syllables. "What? When? How?"
"It happened Thursday… or Friday. I don't know. But somebody killed him! They stabbed him or something... impaled him." Her voice drops low, cracking as she steps toward me. "They said it was his pointer thingy, that the stick was like, stuck, in his chest! Can you believe it?"
I can't. Her words hit me, bouncing off the surface, refusing to sink in. How can he be dead? "Who did it? Who killed him?"
"Don't know," she says. "The police are investigating, but I don't think they've arrested anyone. It's just... wow. Someone killed him."
"Who would do such a thing?" I look at Naz, who is packing up my books in silence. "Naz?"
He turns at the sound of his name, raising his eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Professor Santino... he's dead!"
His expression is stoic. "I heard."
"Can you believe it?"
"Yes," he says, his curt answer catching me off guard. "I'm only amazed it didn't happen sooner."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Daniel didn't have a lot of friends, Karissa," he says. "It was only a matter of time before he pushed the wrong button."
I stare at him. How can he be so unaffected? Sure, Santino wasn't nice, but Naz knew the man.
Melody clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her. She launches into conspiracy theories, who could've done what and why and how, like this is a game of Clue and she can riddle it out with the right game pieces. I listen to her, my attention consistently shifting to Naz. He steadily packs, but I can tell he's listening.
"It's just so crazy," Melody says after a moment. "Thank God we're moving out this week. I don't know if I feel safe here right now, you know? It's creepy."
"I know," I whisper. "My mom always said New York was too dangerous."
A loud whack echoes through the room. I flinch as Melody gasps. My eyes dart to Naz in shock as he reaches down and picks up a textbook from the floor that he dropped. Wordlessly, he places it in the box, continuing on with the others, as if he hadn't interrupted.
"So you're packing now," Melody says. "Are you going home for the summer?"
Before I can respond, Naz interjects. "Forever."
"What?" Melody asks.
"She's going home forever," Naz clarifies.
Melody's gaze shifts between us. "Wait, what? You're moving back in with your mother?"
"No," I say quietly. "I'm moving in with Naz."
These were things I hadn't given much thought to last night. In fact, it didn't really hit me until we landed in New Jersey and Naz told me he'd help me gather my things to move in.
I told him that was crazy; I couldn't live with him.
He told me it would be crazy not to, considering we were engaged.
Melody stares at me with shock, and I almost feel guilty. The girl doesn't know the half of it yet.
"You're moving in together?" she gasps. "Already?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Are you ready for all that?"
Such a loaded question, one I'm not even sure the answer to. Before I can conjure up a response, Naz chimes in, laying it all out on the table. "I certainly hope she's ready, considering she agreed to marry me."
Melody looks like she's been slapped, her eyes so wide I'm surprised they haven't popped out of their sockets. She just stares at me, and I smile sheepishly, holding out my hand to show her the ring.
I expect her to be confused.
Maybe even angry.
But I don't anticipate her excitement.
She lets out the loudest shriek as she grabs my hand, jumping up and down with delight, yelling at me to spill every last detail. I explain what I can, what I remember. It's not much of a story, but the dreamy look she gets in her eyes tells me it's enough to make her swoon.
Naz remains quiet throughout my story.
He's still packing like it's the only thing that matters.
Melody is rambling too fast for me to keep up when a series of familiar beeps rings out in the room, interrupting her train of thought. Naz pulls out his phone, glancing at it, and turns to me. "I have to get going. Have something to handle for work."
