I sit in the control room of the mansion, nursing a bottle of alcohol and staring at the security footage of the initiation that changed everything.
Or, more accurately, I watch the sequence of when Cecily ran off the property on repeat. She probably thought she was out of the camerasâ range, because she removed her wig and mask as she sprinted away.
The scene is oddly reminiscent of earlier, when she finally managed to slip through my fingers.
Like sand.
This was probably how it was supposed to be long before she barged into my space.
The first time I actually âmetâ Cecily was at the fight club when Annika decided it was a good idea to sneak in with her new friends. That was exactly one night before the initiation.
I throw my head back as images from that first meeting flow to consciousness.