Brandon sat on the cold windowsill of his dorm room, one knee propped up, the other dangling loosely. The window was cracked open just enough for the night air to slide in, and for Ashes to perch beside him.
She was curled up lazily, half on the sill and half in his lap, her white-and-grey fur catching glimmers of moonlight. She purred softly, as if to remind him the world wasn't completely terrible.
"Yeah," Brandon murmured, his voice low. "I know. I'm stalling."
Ashes stretched a paw and batted at the string on his hoodie.
Brandon gave her a faint smile, but his eyes didn't move from the courtyard outside. It was quiet now. Too quiet. Last night had been different — almost orchestrated.
He should've seen it sooner.
"She set me up," he finally said, scratching behind Ashes's ears. "Cute girl. Sad eyes. Burned through enough eyeliner to hide all the red flags. Played it casual, like she didn't notice me watching her."
Ashes gave a little chirp in reply, eyes blinking slowly.
"Don't give me that," Brandon whispered. "I deserved it. I got cocky."
He thought back to the freshman — Ezra. Brandon had seen the fear in the kid's body language. But it was wrong. Off-script. He wasn't nervous like a normal victim. He was performing. Practiced steps, perfectly timed.
Brandon's jaw tightened.
"She staged it," he muttered, more to himself now. "She used him as bait to draw me out. She knew I was watching her… she knew exactly when I'd be there."
Ashes blinked again, unimpressed.
Brandon looked down at her. "You're right. I should've killed her that first night."
Ashes yawned.
He laughed quietly. "Yeah. You don't care about justice. You just want tuna and someone who'll keep you warm."
He gently lifted the cat and placed her on the folded blanket near the radiator. She gave a disgruntled meow but settled in fast, already curling back into sleep.
Brandon stood and pulled the curtain back slightly. His eyes swept the sidewalk down below, the corner of the auto shop, and the alley where Ezra had vanished after playing his part.
"She knows I know," Brandon whispered. "So now the real game begins."
He moved through the campus the next morning like nothing had changed.
He waved at Liv, who offered him a wink and an over-the-top hair flip. He gave Amir a nod in the computer lab. He even chatted briefly with Manny about the new horror RPG dropping this weekend — something about moral alignment and kill paths.
It would've been funny if it weren't so tragically close to home.
He found Beth later, leaning against the bike rack near the south exit, chewing on a black pen and pretending to be bored. Her plaid skirt was wrinkled, her leather jacket casually slung over one shoulder, and her smile… was razor-thin.
"Brandon," she said sweetly, like she hadn't tried to lure him into a trap the night before. "I didn't think you had morning classes."
He slid his hands into his pockets. "I don't. Just like to walk."
"Same," she said, twirling the pen between her fingers. "Nice night last night."
His eyes narrowed. "Little cold."
Beth tilted her head. "Yeah. Cold enough to make people do weird things. You ever just get a feeling someone's watching you?"
He said nothing. Didn't blink.
She smiled wider.
"Well, if you see anyone creepy, let me know. Don't want anyone following me around campus. That'd be… dangerous."
Brandon nodded once. "You should be careful."
"I'm always careful."
They held that moment, both smiling.
Then Beth's phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen, tapped out a reply with speed that suggested she'd done it a thousand times before.
"Gotta run," she said. "Real life calls."
She walked away, hips swaying in just the right rhythm to make it seem effortless. But Brandon watched her closely.
She was walking with purpose.
She had a new target.
And this time, he wasn't going to just observe.
That night, Brandon sharpened his knife.
He didn't do it often. Only when he was about to do something permanent.
Ashes hopped up onto his bed and stared at him.
"I know," he said. "She hasn't killed anyone since Jamal died. She's laying low. Watching. Maybe grieving."
He paused, tightening the screws on the hidden sheath behind his jacket sleeve for his knife.
"But she'll kill again. You don't quit that easily. Especially not if it was fun for you. And I saw her face when she talked to me today. She's ready."
Ashes butted her head against his arm.
Brandon exhaled slowly.
"She wants to kill me," he said simply. "She doesn't know I killed Jamal. Not for sure. But she suspects I'm a problem. And that's enough for someone like her."
He slid the knife into place and stood.
"She's going to slip soon. And when she does…"
He looked over at Ashes.
"I'll stop her. Fast. Clean."
Ashes blinked.
Brandon smirked.
"No. You can't come."