Chapter Text
Wednesday, November 6
Rage.
Fear.
Panic.
She’s going to tell everyone. She’s got him cornered. She and her punk-ass blue hair are up in his face and she’s shoving him.
No, he’s got her backed up against the wall now. She’s the one who’s scared. Her grip is tight on his arm, but he’s got the cold metal of his gun against her stomach.
It happens so quickly. She pushes him back, his finger twitches and pulls the trigger, there’s a flash and she’s falling to the floor.
He tries to shake her as if she’d wake up, obviously with no success. Her eyes are cold and her body is limp. His heart beats twice as hard as if it has to make up for her lack of one.
He fucking shot her. He can’t take that back. There’s already blood pooling on the bathroom tile. It’s a much deeper red than he expected. He feels bile threaten to come up his throat, but it doesn’t give him the satisfaction of throwing it up. Hands on his head, he runs around the bathroom aimlessly like he has somewhere to run.
The walls close in on him. Sirens. He hears a siren. Or a bell. Alarm. Some sort of blaring sound that rings in his head so loudly to the point where it feels like it’s going to split him apart.
Nathan Prescott woke up in his bed to his phone’s alarm. Covered in a chilled sweat and a sinking feeling of dread in his chest, it’s no different from any other morning. It had been over four years since Chloe Price died, but every day he woke up as if it was last night.
He finally turned his alarm off, a soft melodic bell instead of a police siren. After spending a moment gathering himself, he finally threw off the covers and began his day.
His days were fairly routine. Wake up, take his pill, shower, go to class. He’d only been out of Columbia River Correctional Institution for a few months, but he was adjusting decently. Not a day passed where he wasn’t grateful to have his own space. He had a soft mattress and his own shower in his studio apartment. Cracking drywall beats a concrete cell any day of the week.
He had his mother to thank for that. If it weren’t for her, he’d probably still be in prison or homeless. Shockingly, she spoke up for once and begged his father to set him up with a little cash and a place to stay. And even more shockingly, the old man complied. He guessed it would be more embarrassing if the former heir to the Prescott fortune was seen panhandling. Setting him up with a basic education and place to live was more appealing. At least then he could just disappear into mundane common life, maybe die inside a boring cubicle at fifty. Other than that, he was practically completely separated from the Prescott estate, free from Sean Prescott’s hell.
It worked out better that way. He doubted anyone would want to be roommates with a convicted criminal.
Before heading to class, he stopped by the library to print out a post-lab report. It was stupid that an arts major had to take chemistry classes, but the fact that he was even able to be in college was a miracle. Sitting at a computer, he went to plug in his USB drive but paused. There was one left attached to the computer. Curiously, he looked at the files on it.
Weird Science - Homework
W.G.'s Incredible Film Library
Greatest TV Shows Ever
Muzak
Randomz'
Not downloaded
He rolled his eyes at the quirky “s” replacements. “Weird Science - Homework” was exactly what it was titled: weird science homework. However, he was surprised by the self-proclaimed “incredible film library.” The files varied from anime to trashy 80’s pornos disguised as movies, to even emo vampire films. “Greatest TV Shows Ever” held Doctor Who and The Twilight Zone . “Muzak” contained the entire The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time soundtrack and some indie rock and electro songs. Nathan couldn’t help but scoff as he opened up “Randomz’” only to see a compilation of cat memes.
Nathan could come to one conclusion about the owner of this flash drive: They were a total geek. A geek with a deep knowledge of film that he, a film major, could appreciate. But a total geek nonetheless.
He ejected the drive and looked it over. It was decorated with colored blocks, as if it were a third of a Rubik’s cube. Sharpie was scribbled on one of the sides, but it was almost completely faded and rubbed off. All he could make out was an “M” and “u.” The other side, in much fresher ink, said “CH, Rm208.”
At first, he thought “CH” stood for chapter, but he quickly put together that it stood for “Carson Hall, Room 208.” One of the dormitories on campus. Checking the clock, he didn’t have time to find the owner. He printed out his paper and pocketed the USB for later.
College was far different from high school. At Blackwell, everyone knew everyone. Even the students who were loser wallflowers, you had classes with them for the past four years. At university, everyone was a stranger. He didn’t have to be at the top of some social hierarchy.
Even then, sitting in his chemistry class reminded him of Ms. Grant’s classroom. It was odd how that period of his life somehow felt like yesterday and yet also lifetimes ago.
He passed along his report to the front of the class. The professor then passed out sheets with questions for him and his group members to answer. Nathan was never great at science, he’d always been more into English and arts. The assignment consisted of only ten questions, and he relied on his groupmates for nine of them. The one he could handle was a simple math equation and even then, he was unsure if he was doing it right.
Some know-it-all type led the group. Some girl who was probably her high school’s valedictorian and head of the robotics team or some shit. When their group first formed and they made small talk, ages managed to come up in conversation. Nathan mentioned he was twenty-two, and the kid looked at him wide-eyed. She laughed to herself and remarked, “You’re four years older than me and we’re both in our first year!”
Yeah, it didn’t feel great starting later, and he had prison to thank for that.
The worst part was the girl was almost always correct, but she was a total asshole about it. When one of them asked a question, she would reply with a nasally uptight voice, “Oh, you didn’t know that?”
“No, that’s why I’m fucking asking, bitch,” Nathan muttered under his breath after she said it for the fifth time.
A voice laughed quietly at his comment. It was the girl sitting next to him. An amused smile hung on her lips along with a ring piercing. She whispered over, “She pisses me off too.”
The girl discreetly nudged her notebook toward him. Her nails were covered in chipping ultramarine polish, and they acted as a bright arrow to the corner of the page. On the paper was a caricature of the other girl with large nerd glasses and buck teeth. Now Nathan was the one laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Nathan answered. He then proceeded to draw a speech bubble next to the drawing with the words “What’s so funny?” inside, earning a smile from her.
They finished their group worksheet and turned it in. After a lecture on intermolecular forces, the professor explained their next project to the class. It was a partnered report that was due before Thanksgiving break.
The girl turned to him again, tucking her sleek black hair behind her ear, “Partners? Unless you wanna run the risk of being with her.”
“Sure, what was your name again?”
“Jeanette. Jeanette Fischer.”
“Nathan Prescott,” he shook her hand, “Just promise you won’t be half as condescending as her.”
Jeanette smiled and fidgeted with the piercing at the center of her bottom lip, “I’ll try. I can’t stand people like that. I’ve had more than enough of them in my life.”
He raised a brow, “Yeah? I get what you mean.” After spending so much of his life being talked down to by his father, then being looked down on by bullies, and then made little by Jefferson, he was sick of it as well.
Class ended and they exchanged Instagram accounts to contact each other.
Nathan’s next class was in an hour so he went to the library to work in the meantime. He decided to grab some coffee at the cafe inside the library. While he was waiting in line, a man cut in front of him.
“Excuse you,” Nathan said. The man ignored him. “Is it fucking asshole day or something? Move.”
No answer, he simply waved him off.
That familiar anger bubbled inside him. Younger Nathan would’ve blown up right there, shouting, “Do you know who I am?” and getting physical. Now, he hoped no one knew who he was. So instead, he clenched his fists and stayed put.
When he finally got to the front, he ordered a hot peppermint mocha. Not a very manly drink, but it was a guilty pleasure, and it wasn’t like he had any Vortex douches to impress anymore. It would be a treat after dealing with such a dickhead.
The baristas called his name and he grabbed his drink. Leaving the cafe, he took a sip while walking into the library. He grimaced, tasting something much more bitter than expected. Still walking, he took off the lid and checked inside. It was straight-up black coffee. They got his fucking order wrong. He considered going back and chewing out the barista. What a waste of money and time.
Before he could even mourn his coffee, he bumped into someone. It was another student who had dropped their books, clearly in a rush to get somewhere. The hot coffee spilled onto Nathan. It wasn’t scalding, but it was certainly uncomfortable as it soaked into his clothes.
Without thinking, he shouted, “What the fuck, man!”
“Shit, I’m sorry!” they apologized as they picked up their things. Others in the library turned to see who was being so loud.
“You better fucking be,” Nathan fumed, much angrier than he meant to be. As he yelled, he knew it was just coffee, but he couldn’t stop it. He shoved the person back, “Fucking watch out!”
A librarian stepped in. Great, more people to fan this flame. “Excuse me, sir, but could you keep your voice down? This is a library.”
“Can this dumbass watch where they’re going? This is fucking cashmere.”
He wanted to roll his eyes at himself. He sounded like a fucking diva and he was as much to blame. He wasn’t looking where he was walking either, but he wasn’t admitting that. He was covered in hot coffee, coffee that he didn’t even order.
The student shot another sorry look before rushing off to wherever-the-hell they had to go.
Nathan stood there, dripping in caffeine and feeling embarrassed for reacting immaturely. He felt everyone’s eyes on him in the library. With a frustrated sigh, he decided to study later and return to his apartment to change.
His walk from campus to his apartment wasn’t long, but it gave him plenty of uncomfortable time to reflect on his actions. Four years in prison, four years of fucking counseling and he still was acting like a goddamn kid. Why go to a “Correctional Institution” if none of his behavior was corrected? That exact anger got him into Columbia River Correctional in the first place.
As he walked, he thought about one pivotal session he had with his psychiatrist at Columbia River.
Nathan always hated sitting on her office couch. It was weirdly stiff and had too many throw pillows. Dr. Ruiz sat across from him with her laptop and coffee mug with “Going to therapy is cool!” in a colorful groovy font plastered on it.
“You said last session that you’ve been struggling with…” She tapped her fingers on her laptop, searching for the right words.
He finished for her, “Giving a shit?”
She smiled, revealing deep laugh lines on her aged skin. “Yes, that. Care to elaborate?”
Nathan shrugged, bouncing his leg. “I don’t know. Like where the fuck do you go after you do the shit I did?”
She let the silence hang in the air as she waited for him to explain further. He hated it when doctors did that.
“You know my charges. That says enough.”
She looked through a file on the table beside her and read off it, “Yes, first-degree manslaughter, drug offense and commercial trade of drugs, kidnapping and forced insertion of illegal substances, and assistance of the prior and—”
“—Shit, doc, I get it. Didn’t need the reminder.”
She put the file down. “How do you feel about those charges? How does that affect you wanting to ‘give a shit’?”
He thought for a moment. “Like… I fucking…” he struggled to say it, “I fucking killed that girl.” His voice cracked as he admitted it. “Even if I hadn’t, I still ruined all those other girls’ lives. I fucking lied to all my friends, hurt them.”
Victoria was even lined up to be another victim, and he would’ve helped Jefferson in photographing her. How fucked up was that? His best friend who helped him throughout his worst times, who loved him wholeheartedly; Nathan would’ve roofied and sent her to his mentor at the time.
“It’s all unforgivable. I’m objectively a bad person. I did so many awful things, what’s the point in me doing anything? I just make things worse.”
Nathan wished he could sink into Dr. Ruiz’s endless throw pillows and disappear.
“You did a bad, unforgivable thing,” she agreed, cementing the shame in him. However, she continued, “But that doesn’t stop you from doing good things in the future.”
He shifted in his seat, unsure how to take that. “Am I even capable of that?”
“Of course! You may see yourself as a bad person, but that doesn’t stop you from becoming a better one.”
He scoffed, “I don’t think I can just turn around like that. That peace and love shit doesn’t really come naturally to me.”
“It doesn’t have to. In fact, consciously doing one good deed a day shows that you’re trying to change, versus just naturally doing what is comfortable. Make it a habit. Your habits make you as a person, right?”
Nathan hesitantly nodded. What did it say about him if he had a million bad habits?
“As the days pass with your daily good deeds, you’ll know there is a little more good in the world than before,” she explained.
One good deed a day to counteract his thousands of bad deeds.
Nathan changed out of his stained clothes. As he tossed his pants aside, something made a clacking sound on the floor. After putting on a new pair, he picked it up. It was the USB from earlier.
One good deed .
He finished changing, started a load in the washer, and left his apartment with a mission to turn the day around.
Carson Hall was in the middle of campus so he could quickly swing by before going to class. It could be an easy and much needed win for his conscience. The dormitory was nice enough. It reminded him of his time in the Prescott dormitories at Blackwell. A single studio apartment was nice, but he’d been alone for the past four years. The communal space had a social feel to it he missed. Oh how he missed easily walking down the hall to smoke weed and game with Hayden.
He took the stairs to the second floor, fidgeting with the flash drive in his fingers. Room 208. At first he didn’t find it because the sign was broken. The doors went 206, 207, 209, with the door in between 207 and 209 actually saying 20 and the 8 snapped off. He could hear The Legend of Zelda music playing through the thin walls. This had to be it.
Nathan lightly knocked on the door. He heard the music pause, then shuffling, and then the door opened.
It took a second for the both of them to recognize each other. They both hadn’t changed too much from high school, but it takes a second to remember someone you never thought you’d see again.
Blood from both of their faces drained as they stood in shock.
The “m” and “u” on the flash drive. He looked at it again and flipped it upside down. “W” and “n.”
Warren fucking Graham.
He felt like a fucking idiot.