(Edited with Grammarly 1/8/2025)
Fifteen minutes. Fifteen agonizing minutes, that's how long Albert needed to just sit there and listen as this random guy nearly talked his ear off. Maybe the man had his best interests in mind...who was he kidding? The coach just liked to hear himself talk. Bragging would be a better word for it. He'd gone on for what seemed like forever, proudly stating his success with women. Introduced a few actually funny stories before trying to pass the idea of creating his own seminar to spread his 'gospel' amongst other unlucky men out there, completely unaware of how to play the game,
Safe to say, the teen had found an opening before nearly dashing out of the gym like the hounds of hell were hot on his heels.
Leaning against the cold wall, he shut his eyes before taking in a single heavy breath and exhaling slowly. He could stand there and lie to himself, tell himself that what Brandon had said didn't affect him on some level. Of course it did, he'd experienced it himself. Not the whole dating part, but he could very vividly remember not even being the third choice for the fairer sex in his past life.
But back then, he'd at least had the chance to grow up and mature before pick-up artists became such a huge thing on the net. He'd only sighed with a more wizened gaze and genuinely felt bad for young men growing up in that time...but now, here he was.
In this younger, malnourished, ugly body that he could spend days analyzing for every minute flaw present. Check every one with a ruler for every inconsistent spacing. Everything he could clearly see that was wrong with him. It was why looking in the mirror was always such a difficult thing for him, why he inwardly hated the way he looked. And he knew, with his wide-spanning perception, he could easily pay more attention to the way people reacted to him. Could easily pick away those faux smiles hiding grimaces, pick apart pleasant talk to know they wanted nothing to do with him, and fully unravel their innermost thoughts to know exactly how uncomfortable his wretched face truly made people.
But that road led to self-destruction, both physical and mental.
He knew where an unhealthy obsession with validation would lead. It would start with a simple nose job. Shave down a few millimeters of cartilage and narrow it a hair. But then, it would be his rather weak jaw next. Cut some layers of his ears away, a plate under his forehead, and incisions around his eyes to give him a more smoldering gaze. Plump up his thin lips. Break his femur or tibia just to add a few extra inches, pump his muscles full of silicone, and maybe even try to get a permanent tan just to not look like he was allergic to the sun.
He would scour every single option out there to enhance his appearance and find it all wanting, until eventually deciding to delve headfirst into more magical means. Potions, glamours, neither would sate him for long. Digging deeper, he would throw caution to the wind and fully indulge himself in some of the darkest of spells known in both Call of Cthulhu and Pulp Cthulhu, particularly those that could 'drain' the APP of others and add it to his own. A temporary thing, but he could potentially be one of the most beautiful people ever to grace this Earth, and that fact would become like a drug. An insatiable thirst. Something that'll surely lead him to spiral even more rapidly than before.
In his pursuit of perfection, a sea of shriveled up corpses would follow in his wake.
Maybe he was just being dramatic, a worrywart, but he wasn't willing to even entertain the idea of those seeds of insecurity taking root. And with an effort of mental will, the teen flung those pods up and out of his consciousness. Like slinging small objects from a blanket.
They would be back; insecurity never truly faded from the mind after all. It would lurk, waiting in the shadows for the most opportune time to strike.
Shaking himself, Albert pushed back to his feet before waiting a few seconds and started his way down the long hallway. Soft steps followed in his wake, hesitant at first but growing more assured as he went on.
While he strolled, his eyes were set on a near pivot. An object in mind, something universal that would easily signify his next target's location. Going even further, he opened his nose as well. Taking in deep inhales, trying to use that as well to help get a better handle on things. His ears perked up, tendrils of awareness unspooling from their perch. Stretching out wide to the rapidly quietening building. The crowd, now diminished into nothing more than a light splash of humanity. Their chatter low and nostalgia-inducing.
"I'll use my X-Ray vision to burn right through those cinder blocks!"
One child proudly proclaimed, pointing their nose high up in the air to look down at a carefully prepared, standing paper cutout atop undecipherable scribbles on a page.
"That's eye lasers, stupid!" Another child rolled their eyes hard and replied as if they were talking to the dumbest person alive. Their hand came up to slap away the grubby finger inching its way towards another cut out, this one far more detailed with even a makeshift paper cape held together by pipe cleaners and well wishes. And instead pointed towards what looked to be a chart beside the two cutouts. "Besides! The Mountain isn't made of cinder blocks! He's made of stone! Lasers can't burn through stone!"
"Who are you calling stupid, stupid?! Of course, lasers can burn through rocks! What do you think cinder blocks are? They're rocks, that's what!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yeah-uh!"
"I don't want to play anymore!" The second kid got up off the ground, swiping up their own cutout with a huff. "You always che-"
A certain smell dragged him away from the argument, their voices fading out into background noise. On the air, a slight sterile scent tickled at his nose. Harsh chemicals and elbow grease, turning down another hallway, he came face to face with a yellow sign that had a stick figure frozen mid slip. A red circle with a diagonal slash across its form.
In front of a pair of bathrooms, an off colored green mop bucket sat. That soapy and eye-watering smell was enough to clearly scream out who was behind all this. From the half-dried floors to the sound of someone mopping just beyond sight. Deep humming followed, an unknown tune danced along the empty hallway.
"Hello?"
The humming stopped all at once, a mop head freezing in place mid-pass over. Before long, heavy footsteps could be heard coming his way. And peeking around the corner, an older man gazed out with squinted eyes.
"Bathroom's closed." The janitor looked his guest over, a single bushy brown quirking up. "But I'd say you're too old to be a student, wouldn't you agree?"
"I'm not a student," Albert shrugged, holding out a single gloved hand outstretched. A small but warm smile upon his lips. "You may call me Howard. You must be Mr. Dover? A pleasure to meet you."
Mr. Dover was an older gentleman of slight build and stature. With arms as thin as twigs and a visible hunch to his frame. The few remaining strands of stark gray hair clung stubbornly to his liver spot-covered scalp. Narrowed brown eyes glared out into the world through a pair of thick, wire-frame glasses. Decades of that perpetual frown left thick furrows through his skin, harsh lines around his thin mouth.
Wearing simple but faded navy blue khakis, with a tucked-in black dress shirt and elbow-length rubber gloves that clutched tightly to the mop held between them.
"Well, 'Howard'." The way the old man squinted, experience easily allowed him to tell the alias for what it was. Nonetheless, he still took the proffered hand. "What do you want? Did one of the teachers send you to come get me?"
"No, nothing like that." He waved the man down, eyes raking over his figure in some attempt to devour as much information as possible. Those faded khakis might've hinted towards some form of financial straits, or maybe they were just sentimental...but that didn't make much sense then. Why would he be cleaning a bathroom, a public bathroom at that, in something he genuinely cares about? So maybe they were just work clothes, something he wouldn't mind getting dirty? "I just want to ask a few questions...But I would be willing to make it worth your time."
Deciding to test the waters, he whipped out a few extra bills but was met with a dismissive rebuke.
"I don't want none of your money!" Mr. Dove scowled, those harsh lines growing deeper. "What kind of man do I look like to take money from someone who don't look older than my own grandkids? No, keep it. Put it in a bank somewhere and save it! Besides, I'm not in need of money! When you get to my age, after working all your life, retirement is a slow and boring way to die. At least with this part-time gig, I can spend a few hours a day doing something actually productive! Just ask whatever, I have to wait for these floors to dry anyway."
'A prideful man then.' Albert nodded, stuffing the few bills back in his inner pocket. 'A grandfather as well, let's see how he reacts to the straightforward approach.'
"Then, I'll be blunt." This was the type of person he liked the most, brusque and straight to the point. No need to side-step the conversation or play those little verbal games. "Do you know of someone called Jacqueline?"
"Oh." Whatever the old man was expecting, it obviously wasn't that, as he visibly deflated. Hunching further in on himself and gripping the handle tighter, it was like he'd aged a few extra years in that brief pause. "Yeah, I know...well knew her. She was a very sweet girl, got her head lost in the clouds a lot of the time, but was still very respectful. Never once had to clean up after her, that I can say as an eight-year-old, is a massive accomplishment. She even used to sneak me one of those cafeteria sugar cookies every week...I don't even like them; I'm more of a peanut butter type of man. But I accepted them because I could easily see my grandkids when I looked at her. It's a real shame what happened to her."
"What do you think happened to her?" A lever exposed itself, and what kind of investigator would he be to not press it? "I heard that she just wandered off school grounds?"
"Bah!" Mr. Dover swiped his hand through the air sharply, that scowl falling into the very deepest of depths. "I don't know how that rat of a man got all these teachers and staff to agree with that stupid story, but I know for a fact that that girl DID NOT just wander off! I got a few grandkids that act exactly like her, but they would never, ever just wander off like this damned school claims! Did you know someone tried to frame me for taking her?!"
"Really?" He really played up the look of confusion; it really didn't make much sense to pin the blame on him. "Who would say such a thing?"
"Exactly!" The old janitor motioned to his twig-like arms and legs before ending it off by waving at his entire body. "I'm sixty-seven years old! Been through the military, served my time with nothing to show for it but this hunch and a monthly severance check just barely enough to keep me going! All these kids here can run circles around my huffy and puffing corpse! Most of these kids outweigh me! But even worse, I came in late that day! I had a doctor's appointment for my high blood pressure from all those damn sugar cookies! By the time I got back, it was well after three o'clock, and I didn't even know the girl was missing until Russel came in here like a man about to go to war!"
"When the police came, I was the only one to testify against the idea of Jacqueline just wandering off! A kid just doesn't do that! But for goddamn reason, all these other staff members didn't agree with me! As if they thought that was just one of the most normal things to happen! I almost quit that day, can't trust none of these teachers now. If that wasn't bad enough, for some reason, there's a rumor going around the kids that I had snatched her up and am keeping her in the basement. The BASEMENT! This school don't got one! I would know! It would make fixing stuff around here way easier if that were the case!"
"When did these rumors start to circulate?" He could guess what happened; this rumor had to have been retaliatory when the old man wouldn't fall in line with the rest of the staff. It brought something to mind. "How often do you check your email?"
"I would say they started...about a week after she went missing? And I don't check my email; it's a waste of time, honestly. If they want something done, they can do it down and put it in my request box or just call it out on the intercom. All this technology, email and je-mails and hotmails, I don't see a reason to use any of it. Good ol'fashion pen and paper is a-okay with me."
"Then, do you mind if I get a look at it?"
It would be great if he could directly get his hands on the school-wide email itself, perfect proof to prove that the principal had knowingly covered up this matter. Providing leverage for him to springboard this case into action.
"Well…" He actually looked sheepish as could be just then. "I don't see a problem with that...I would just need to find my login stuff, you know? I kept forgetting my password, and they had to keep on resetting it, so I wrote it down somewhere so I wouldn't ever forget...But I probably tossed it a long time ago."
And just like that, all the hope he could feel bubbling up inside of him died just as suddenly.
"Oh well, thank you either way." His gaze fell to the slightly damp floor and to the bucket that had lost quite a bit of its sudsy bubbles. "I won't keep you up; you probably have a lot of work to do. Thank you again for being so cooperative."
"It's nothing, really, I just hope she's found well and healthy. I'll keep praying for her."
***
Albert pushed open the heavy security doors, coming back out to the chilly evening air. The sound of traffic long since faded, and only a few honks let him know of their presence. The first thing he noticed was the massive parking lot that probably was where the buses were being kept, and a park off to the side. Swings swaying in the breeze, a brightly colored slide that twisted and curved, along with a long path of monkey bars running from the end of the park to the other. Next to it, a basketball hoop stood at a much lower height. Enough so that even he could probably dunk if he was willing to embarrass himself. Along with four tetherball poles, each with its primary feature nowhere in sight.
And finally, multiple groupings of rough picnic tables filled a small portion of the leftover space. Leaving the rest to be used as a massive playground for kids to run and play around in.
Taking a few steps, he breathed in mouthfuls of 'clean' frigid air. Feeling a steady breeze run across his form, eyes closed, he took this moment to truly enjoy the nostalgia such a place induced.
He could easily imagine a kid version of him running around here, could imagine him trying to see how high he could get on the swings. Arguing with the scaredy-cat before him to stop being such a massive wuss and go down the slide already, to playing hopscotch unsuccessfully, to barely understanding the rules of basketball, to getting absolutely demolished at tetherball, and finally ending off with spending the rest of his recess sitting at those benches just chatting with whoever was nearby.
Sometimes, back in his old life, and this one, he did miss being a kid. Missed how simple life was back then, when all he had to worry about was how to entertain himself. No responsibilities and actual cliches weren't so stringent. Despite those rose-tinted glasses trying their hardest to make it seem like those were the best years of his life, he still wouldn't actually wish to go back then. The lack of freedom is the primary reason.
Just the idea of having adults constantly hover over him, never being allowed even a moment of privacy to even just think peacefully, was a fate worse than death if he were being honest.
That part of his life, he would always look fondly at. But that was it.
"Couldn't figure out how to follow me quietly, huh?"
He didn't look back as the sound of those security doors clicked open.
"….." His stalker was silent for a breath before a soft voice finally spoke up. "How long?"
"Since the beginning." Albert turned to face the girl, the same blonde from Mrs. McBride's classroom. "It was a good attempt, but those shoes aren't really built for sneaking around."
"Oh." The girl looked down at her pristine, closed-toed slides in sudden understanding. She was silent at first, her face going through a multitude of expressions. Uncertainty, guilt, anger, sadness, before settling on resolve. "Why are you looking for Jacqueline?"
"First, you may call me Howard." He turned partway, the pieces falling into place. "Think of me as a worse Sherlock Holmes."
"You're a cop?"
"Nothing like that," It was better to nip that idea as soon as possible; impersonating a police officer was still a federal crime after all. "More like I solve mysteries for people."
"Oh….And Jacqueline is a mystery?"
"Indeed," He turned back to the swaying swing set, allowing her to collect her thoughts. "I've heard from multiple people that she wouldn't just wander off, but for some reason, everyone else believes the opposite."
"...It's because she did." The girl, Candice, he suspected, tried to put some strength in her words, but it was clear her heart wasn't in it. "Or...or maybe that old man snatched her up! And stuffed her in a trash bag!"
"Really?"
"Yeah!" She said louder, more assured, and maybe even a tad angry now. "That's what happened! So-so, mystery solved! You don't need to be here anymore! Go! Leave!"
"…." Albert now turned to her fully, gaze not hard or cruel. He could see it now, dampness holding itself at the corner of her eyes. Yelling or arguing wouldn't help here; it would only embolden her further. Choosing not to engage was a far better weapon than dropping himself to the level where he was willing to argue with a literal child. "Her father misses her a lot."
The blonde flinched away like she'd been slapped, before she crossed her arms.
"That's a lie!" She declared confidently, taking the time to wipe at her eyes. "I know fathers wouldn't care enough to miss their daughters! Maybe a son, but never a daughter!"
'I hate your dad already.'
It was a gut punch to hear someone so young say something like that.
"Not Russel." He shook his head sadly. "Poor guy can't sleep, can't sit still, and probably wouldn't remember to eat. Did you know he's been putting missing person fliers for months now? Still goes out every day just handing them out to people, even if they already got one? I'm sure he spends most nights looking through every alleyway, every nook and cranny just looking for his daughter."
"...Why would he do all that? Shouldn't he be happy?"
"He loves her, that's why. If possible, I'm more than sure he would rather take her place wherever she is. So no, I would call him the complete opposite of 'happy'."
"…." Candice dropped her head low, curly locks obscuring her face, before saying something nearly inaudible. "It's not fair."
"What isn't fair?"
"Why does she get a father like that?!" She stomped her foot, frustrated tears breaking free. "Why does she get everything?! It's not fair! First, she gets good grades without trying! Then she's liked by all the teachers, even the mean ones! And-and then she-she can make tons of friends! Friends who'll bring her birthday gifts to school and-and get invited to her party?! It's not fair! Why can't I have any of that?!"
"Why won't father love me as Jacqueline's father loves her?"
That last part was barely above a whisper, and sometimes, in moments like these, he really, really hated how aware Listen made him. Now, she was openly crying. Heavy streams flow endlessly from her eyes. It tugged at his heartstrings and burned a cold fire within his own chest. But above all else, he couldn't help her. He wasn't a close relative nor a trained child therapist. This was something she would need to unpack years into the future. Somewhere in a safe environment where she could properly heal...but that wasn't here or now.
"What really happened, Candice?" The sobbing girl was so out of it that she didn't even react when her name was spoken by a stranger.
"I-I…" She was nearly unintelligible, a mix of heavy sniffs and croaks followed as she tried to get her story out. "I c-can't! I'll g-get in trouble! I-I lied to the police! T-they'll put me in j-jail!"
"No, they won't."
Yeah, he was so going to hit whoever fed her that lie.
"H-how do you k-know?"
"They don't arrest kids."
That's what juvie was for, but it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell her about that side of the justice system.
"…." Candice coughed, rubbing away her tears roughly. "It-it wasn't supposed to go like this! I-I swear! I-I just wanted to get what she had…. During class, I just couldn't take it anymore when she started laughing at some stupid joke someone told, so I sent her a note. I-I told her to meet me out here before lunch, near the bus parking lot. I was going to fight her, just punch her real good in the nose...But I know she can do more push-ups than me, so I was going to come out here early and set up so I can at least get the first hit off. I waited behind the corner there and waited for her to come out...that's when this car screeched to a stop right before those open gates there."
She pointed a single finger at the far-off gate, shaking all the while. Nodding, Albert took out his small notebook and began to take notes.
"At first, I didn't care too much about it. I was worried about letting her get the first hit off...but that's when this massive man in a robber's mask got out of the car and was calling out to me. Told me to come over to him, that my parents had gotten into an accident, and he was my uncle here to pick me up. My father is the principal here, and my mother...she doesn't leave the house, so I knew that was a lie, but by the time I realized that, he was already too close to me. I tried to run...I really, really did, but he was too fast! He grabbed me, covered my mouth, and began to drag me away! I tried to fight him, tried to bite him, but he was just too strong! He-he told me to stop fighting, or he'd be forced to shut me up...I was so scared that I just froze...In the next moment, I heard a scream ring out and saw Jacqueline running our way with a rake. She hit him so many times that he had no choice but to drop me and wrestle the rake away from her. I was already running. The man was cursing, and the driver yelled out the window to just snatch her and leave….And he did just that...I'm a coward, a scaredy-cat...I didn't even try to help her out and just ran with all my might as she was scooped up. I went directly to my father...and he told me to never tell anyone or the police would come and arrest me. And-and when the police came, I kept to the story he told me to tell...and when the janitor wouldn't go along with the story, he told me to spread a rumor that it was him who took Jacqueline. The rest is history…"
"Thank you, you were very brave to tell me. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise." And he truly meant it. She'd gone through a traumatic experience, and the one person who should've been there for her was too busy covering his own ass. Just her willingness to come forward made her instantly better than a majority of the staff at that school. "I know this is a lot, but do you remember anything particular about the man or the car? Actually, here, draw it out the best you can and just write the color in place of coloring it in."
As much as he felt bad for Candice and forcing her to relive that traumatic event, there really weren't a lot of options. He needed something to go off of. An accent, a tattoo, a distinguishing feature, anything to help track down Jacqueline's kidnappers. These people had at least half a year's head start on him, the way his stomach churned as she hiccupped and began to draw in the small handheld note could be dealt with later.