Anonymous: Before Justice gets killed

The minute she enters the Choco&Cream shop, I know she’s The One. Not that I haven’t had an inkling for a while now but today, looking at her cross one leg over the other on a rattan-style white chair, I know she’s the perfect fit. The perfect girl. I don’t just choose anyone because like I said, everything must be perfect.

Every day after school is done for the day, she comes to this little shop no matter how expensive their menu is, she still goes there every day. I know this because I’ve been there myself. I admire her, really I do. One waitress—a pixie sized woman with an upturned nose from what I can see—hands her the note I dropped a while ago. My imperfect scrawl is what her eyes are perusing before she hands it over to the girl I’m watching from afar. Nosy little bitch. The thought eggs me as I watch the little midget saunter off.

If the note is anything to go by, then today I’m going to meet the famous Justice Ortega. Arden Academy’s own epitome of popularity. There’s nothing impressive about that title, it’s the girl hiding behind that façade who intrigues me. Justice’s body angles to the side of her chair, eyes scrutinizing everything within her vicinity, undoubtedly searching for me. She won’t find me though, I’m so far away she can’t help but squint a little to see me. She doesn’t though, but she knows I’m here. Can you feel it? Can you feel me breathing down your neck? I silently ask her.

The nosy waitress walks back balancing a tray of sugar-coated scones and a cup of hot chocolate per my request. My eyes follow the movement of her lips as she says: It’s on the house. But of course, it’s not.

Justice, from where I’m standing on a sidewalk burning in the heat, looks dubious for a moment but accepts it, nonetheless. My work here is done but not quite.

Punctuality, I realise, isn’t her best forte. She arrives at the hotel two hours later in a state of perplexity with a hint of fear which she masks away with a scowl. Standing up from where I’m seated in a far corner of the lobby, I block her path. A smile spreads on my face. “You took long enough.”

The gasp that leaves her lips tells me she has no clue what to say. I’ve rendered the catty mouth girl wordless. Good to know. “This way,” I gesture to the elevator.

It takes a while before a familiar clicking of heels sounds on the vinyl floors. We don’t speak. Don’t look at each other. For her credit, I stand far away from her, though this is not what I want. She’s known for some weeks that I’ve been watching her but no cops have come banging on my door. They wouldn’t have known where to look anyway because she hadn’t seen my face beforehand.

On the threshold, after a moment’s hesitation from her, I turn around to face her. “What? Are you going to sleep in the elevator now? Come on out.”

Fear flashes across those beady ears.”This doesn’t feel right.”

“It does to me.” I let out a soft chuckle, letting her know nothing is going to happen to her. “I’m not a serial killer, am I? You know me.”

That fire I thought was extinguished by fear settles on those gorgeous eyes. Great, I was kind of worried there. “No, I guess not.” She follows me at a distance to the room I’ve booked for the whole month of October. If this goes according to plan, I’ll switch rooms by November.

Inside, I cross over to the blinds and pull them down, shutting us away from the prying eyes of the world. Relaxing against a back corner seat, I find that she’s still at the doorway, looking very annoyed and somewhat curious.

“You can come in. Have a seat. I don’t bite.” For effect, I smile because my kind of smile showcases straightened white incisors.

“Clearly,” she quips with the roll of her eyes. “What’s your game?”

I sigh it’s not my place to sound irritated but I do feel this way. “Come in and shut the door. That’s if you want answers.”

She does as she’s told, but something tells me she won’t be docile henceforth. Her shoulders move in an almost imperceptible shudder. At this, I ask, “Is the air condition too much for you?”

Teeth bared in a semblance of a smile, she replies, “No, it’s perfect.” A pause. “You’ve been following me for weeks if not months.”

“I call it fate.”

She shudders again. “Well, I call it bullshit. What do you want?”

Leaning in, I rest my elbows on my knees and regard her in what I hope is a harmless posture. “The question is, what do you want, Justice?” Her eyes widen. I love that I’ve caught her off guard. “I want to help you. Give you what you need.”

She jerks her chin up in defiance. “And what exactly is that?”

“Someone to help you. I know you’re struggling with money, that you live in a tiny house even though it’s in The Circle. I can give you stuff like this.” I walk briskly to the wardrobe and pull out the full outfit I purchased two days ago.

I see the battle of wills playing in her eyes, the exact moment she realises with a taste in her mouth that she can have it all if she just lets me help her. “What’s the catch?”

Smiling, I say, “There’s none.”

“And if I don’t agree to whatever silly little game you have going on here, what then?”

The tension in her rolls off into the room in waves. I walk to her, stand as far as possible but still close enough for her to hear me. “Do you know what Edwin Sandys said about honesty?”

Confused, she offers only a small shake of her head. “He said, ‘Honesty is the best policy.’ That’s why there cannot be lies between us and believe me when I say I know what you did and if you want that can be the ‘catch’ you’re talking about.”

When she doesn’t give a snarky reply like I expect her to, I stare directly into her eyes and whisper in her ear. After I tell her what I know, the kind of leverage I have on her, she pulls back aghast with her mouth gaping wide and I smile. She doesn’t know this, but I have her right where I want her.