The Nines (The Nines #1)

by Dakota Madison

  And I do. Much to my chagrin. I could touch her face for an eternity and never tire of it.

  “I won’t blame you if you hate me once you hear the truth.”

  “I could never hate you.”

  She gives a single cold laugh. “Never say never.”

  “Please just tell me.”

  She swallows and then says, “I legally changed my name. When I left Massachusetts. My birth name is Rovzan Baiev.”

  It takes a moment for her words to sink in. Timur Biaev, the Back to School Bomber, had a younger sister. She was two years younger than we were. She was mentioned in the news a lot, but they only ever showed one photo of her. It was an old yearbook photo. When I saw it I remember thinking to myself how innocent she looked. Roxie’s grown up a lot since then.

  When our eyes meet I see so much pain, and humiliation, and fear in her big brown orbs.

  I’m not sure how to feel. I want to feel anger and bitterness, but it wasn’t Roxie who set off the bombs. I’m not even sure if she was close to her brother.

  “Did you know he was going to do it?” I ask. “Could you have stopped him?”

  She shakes her head. “I wish I had known. I wish I could have stopped him. But he didn’t talk to me. We hadn’t been close in several years. But I still feel like I should have done more. Like I should have known. There were signs that things weren’t right. He started hanging out with a bad crowd. He didn’t spend much time at home and when he did he was locked in his room. My parents thought he was going through a phase. They assumed when school started in the fall that he’d go back to being Mr. Popular. That he’d get involved in his classes and school activities again. But school didn’t start again. At least not for him. He bombed the school on the first day back. I’m sure it’s because he knew it was the day when the most people would be there.”

  She wants me to hate her. She wants me to blame her for what her brother did. Part of me wants to blame her too. To exact some of my revenge on those close to him. But would hurting his sister truly hurt Timur?

  I take her in. Every beautiful, perfect inch of her. And I realize that I could never hate her no matter how much I may want to because I like her too much.

  “Do you want me to leave?” There’s so much uncertainty in her voice it squeezes my heart.

  “I want you to help me.” As I say the words I realize there’s more to them than I may have initially intended.

  She furrows her brow. Maybe she realizes there’s more to my request than what is on the surface.

  “How can I help you?”

  I want to tell her that her just being here with me, letting me touch her and hold her, is making me human again. It’s making me feel things that I thought I’d never feel again.

  “Just don’t run away again, okay?”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Now let’s see if we can find your roommate.”

  When she nods I grab her hand. I’m glad when she doesn’t pull away. My hand is a quilt of various skin grafts taken from different parts of my body. It’s functional, but not the least bit aesthetically pleasing. Not that the rest of my body is any nicer to look at. I’m a mass of burn scars and mismatched replacement skin.

  I lead her into my study and she gasps when we enter. She’s not the only one with secrets and I’m about to reveal mine to her.

  “What is all this?” She’s wide-eyed as she looks around the room.

  This is the only area of my aunt’s house where I made significant changes, but out of necessity more than anything else. Nearly every inch of the space is filled with computer equipment: keyboards, monitors and storage capacity. I’m sure to someone who doesn’t do what I do the sight of all the equipment could look a little overwhelming.

  “This is how we’re going to find your roommate. But first I want to show you something.”

  I pull up one of several desk chairs I have in the room and motion for her to sit down then I sit in another chair right next to her. I flip a switch and all of my computers come to life. I do a bit of quick typing. Retrieve the photos that Julio emailed to me and then plug them into a few facial recognition databases to see if we can get any hits.

  “This is unbelievable. I know you’re a computer major, but do you really need this much equipment?”

  I shake my head. “I use my laptop in the living room for school. These computers are for something else.”

  “What else?” Her question gets caught in her throat.

  “Remember you promised not to run away.”

  She frowns. “You really are a hacker?”

  I nod.

  “Do you do stuff that’s illegal?”

  “I do.” I don’t want it to sound like I’m justifying my behavior by saying that I usually only hack other criminals.

  Just like when we first met and I thought she might bolt she seems more curious about me than disturbed by my admission.

  “Do you get paid to do this?”

  I nod again.

  “A lot?”

  “Enough that I don’t really have to worry about earning my degree or going out into the world to get a legitimate job.”

  She studies me. “It probably wouldn’t be easy. Getting a job, I mean.” She looks down at her black ballet flats as if she’s uncomfortable with stating the obvious. That no one would ever hire someone who looks the way I do.

  “And I don’t really have anything to wear to an interview,” I joke.

  When she looks back up at me her eyes are filled with tears again.

  “You gotta stop doing that,” I complain.

  “Doing what?”

  “Watering your cheeks like that.”

  That makes her laugh, but just as fast she’s serious again. “I’m really sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For what my brother did to you.”

  I’m not sure how to respond. It’s not really her apology to make, but I can understand her desire to make some kind of amends. I never thought it could happen, but I feel a tiny bit of the rage I have inside of me starts to dissipate. The angry vengeful me doesn’t feel quite as angry and vengeful as I did before Roxie pushed her way into my life.

  “Sometimes I feel like my life ended before it really had a chance to begin,” I admit. “When you’re seventeen, just starting your senior year of high school, one of the star players on the varsity football team, you feel like you’ve got the world by the balls. You never expect your entire life to change in an instant. I went from being one of the most popular guys in school to being a sideshow freak.”

  “Why would you say that? You’re not a freak.”

  I let out a cynical laugh. “Even my own mother has trouble looking at me. I know what I look like and it isn’t pretty.”

  I freeze when she lifts her hand and ever so slowly moves it toward my face. “Why do you wear this mask, even inside your own house?”

  “I don’t like looking at myself any more than anyone else does. Have you ever seen someone who was severely burned before? It’s hard to look at.”

  When she touches my face on the side that wasn’t burned as severely I take in a sharp breath.

  “Is the skin underneath your mask like the skin on your hands?” Her eyes search mine with such intensity I’m chilled to the bone.

  “It’s worse.”

  “I want to see it.” It’s both a demand and a plea.

  I shake my head. “I don’t let anyone see it.” What she probably doesn’t realize is I don’t let anyone see me with the mask on either. Not until she insisted on it.

  Before we can continue that battle of wills one of my computers pings. “We’ve got a match.”

  When I pull up the information my stomach sinks, but it’s not unexpected. “It’s a photo that was taken of her and another girl and they’re with a few of those Delta Omega Gamma guys. She looks wasted.”

  “She doesn’t drink,” Roxie insists. “She would never drink. It would interfere with her medication.”
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  I enlarge the photo so we can look at it more closely. Her eyelids look heavy and she’s staring off into space. “She definitely appears to be under the influence of some kind of substance.”

  Roxie’s face turns white. “From what Wendi told us it sounded like they drugged Claire…” Her voice trails off.

  “Probably Rohypnol. It’s known as the date-rape drug.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Roxie exclaims before she falls back into her chair and puts her hands over her face.

  “Would you like me to get you something to drink? Some water maybe?”

  She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. “Do you think they have her at their house? In one of those rape rooms?”

  “Probably. We can try to find out.” I take her hands into mine and just hold them for a few seconds. “Look at me.”

  When she looks up at me she’s blinking back tears. “Yes, I’m watering my cheeks again.”

  We both smile, but they fade just as quickly.

  “Those guys videotape everything that goes on in their rape rooms.” Her eyes grow wide as I speak. “I can run a scan to see if we can find her on those tapes, but you understand what we’re going to be seeing.”

  She gulps. “I know something is really wrong. I can feel it. I realize it’ll be awful, but we have to look at those tapes.”

  I turn back to the monitor I’m working on and make my way back into the Delta Omega Gama system. I set up a search of all the recently uploaded videos against the biometrics we have for Claire and let the computer do its thing.

  “There’s something else I need to show you,” I say. “But you need to be aware that it’s extremely disturbing.”

  She gives me a tentative nod.

  I pull up the Delta Omega Gamma Listserv and show her one of the emails that recently went out to all of the fraternity brothers.

  Brothers-

  I’m glad to see the rape rooms being used to their full capacity. But we need to have more fun together. I want to see more trains running through the Delta Omega Gamma house. Let’s gang up on those girls for a really good time. The bitches should know that getting banged by several brothers is always better than one. Choo..Choo…Choo…

  Brotherhood Above All

  Luc

  Roxie’s face has turned pure white and she looks like she’s going to be sick. If just this email has bothered her so much there’s no way I can show her the photos of the girl they beat and raped. And if I never see them again it will be too soon.

  And I haven’t yet proved that the girl who was attacked is the FANGURL from our online forum. I decide to wait until I have more verification before I tell her.

  “Would you like to sit down?” I suggest.

  She shakes her head. “Let’s just do this.”

  Maybe she’s stronger than I’m giving her credit for.

  “Do you know anything that might connect the DOGs to your roommate?”

  She tilts her head to one side like she’s giving it some thought. “She told me there were two guys in her math class that scared her. They stared at her a lot. And they would whisper to each other and laugh. Stuff like that. She tried to make light of it, but I think she was freaked out about it. Otherwise why would she mention it? She told me they said something about their fraternity once.”

  “Do you have any idea what math class it was?”

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t really talk to my roommate about school that much. Honestly we didn’t have conversations about very much. She’s really wrapped up in her boyfriend. As you could probably tell when you met him. She was trying desperately to set me up with her boyfriend’s roommate. That’s about the extent of our conversations.”

  I look deep into her eyes. “What about her boyfriend’s roommate?”

  She frowns. “What about him?”

  “Do you like him?” I can feel my heart start to pound. I know it’s not really any of my business. And it’s not like she and I are ever going to be a couple. I just feel like I have to know.

  She gives me an odd look, like she’s trying to figure out why I would ask her that question, or maybe even how she should respond.

  Her eyes search mine before she finally says, “I’m not interested in Hector. I’m interested in someone else.”

  I gulp. “Who?” The question escapes my lips before I can stop it.

  Our eyes are now locked on each other. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

  I shake my head. “I have no idea.”

  “You.”

  The word just hangs in the air for a few long seconds before I’m able to truly grasp it. Did she really just say that she’s interested in me? How is that possible? I want to ask her to repeat it, but I also don’t want to come across as a complete dweeb.

  Before I have a chance to address it further my computer pings. “Another match. Video footage.”

  We both look at each other.

  “Are you sure you want to see this?” I ask.

  “I’m sure,” she whispers, although she doesn’t look sure at all. She looks like she could throw up at any moment.

  I turn back toward the computer and download the footage. Then I get ready to play it. I instinctively reach for Roxie’s hand and she hangs on to me like a lifeline.

  Two guys drag a young blonde girl into the room. She doesn’t even look conscious. They toss her onto the bed like a rag doll.

  “Are you sure that’s Claire?” Roxie moves really close to the screen, but it’s difficult to make out her face.

  “The facial recognition software is extremely accurate. If it made a match, I’m willing to bet money it’s Claire. And I’m not a gambler.”

  One of the guys is huge, like a hulk, he’s a wall of thick muscle. The other guy is short and lean. It’s hard to make out too many details on the video, but they both look like they have dark hair.

  “You’re up first,” the big guy says. “I want to take a little extra time with this one and I don’t want to hold you up.”

  The shorter guy puts his hands on his hips and stares at Claire. “I don’t know, man. Maybe we should wait until she comes around a little bit. It’ll be like fucking a dead body.”

  “At least she won’t put up a fight like that fucking bitch the other night. That girl was psycho.”

  The shorter guy laughs. “I thought you liked it rough.”

  “Rough, yes, but I’m not into crazy pussy. That cunt bit me. My shoulder still hurts.”

  “She’s not going to be biting anyone else for a while.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Roxie whispers.

  “It does. And you don’t have to whisper. They can’t hear you.”

  When the guys high-five each other it makes my skin crawl. I wonder if they’re the ones responsible for the brutal rape and beating in the news. These monsters aren’t real men. How can they be proud of raping women? I want to reach into the video and hurt them.

  Badly.

  “I’m ready to plow her,” the big guy says as he starts to unzip his pants. “Take her underwear off.”

  The little guy gets into the bed with Claire and lifts up her skirt. But he doesn’t take off her underwear. He looks back at his friend instead. “Dude, there’s something really wrong with this chick.”

  The big guy’s pants are half down and it’s obvious he has an erection. What kind of pervert gets hard looking at a girl who’s passed out?

  “What’s wrong with her? I’m rock hard and I really need to come.”

  The short guy shakes his head. “No, this is bad. I think she might be dead.”

  It takes a few moments for this to sink in because the guys are just staring at each other and not moving.

  Finally the big guy says, “You’re shitting me.”

  “No, she’s not breathing and she’s getting kind of blue.”

  The big guy pulls up his pants. “I’m out.”

  The little guy hops from the bed and stands in front of
the door. “What do you mean you’re out? What are we going to do with the chick?”

  “You roofied her. She’s your problem. I need to find someplace else to stick my dick.”

  “Did you hear what I just said?” the little guy sounds desperate. “She’s not breathing. And you’re not innocent in all this. You picked her out. You’ve wanted to bang her all semester. She’s all you talk about in math class. I gave her the drugs, but you helped me carry her in here. You’re the one who was getting ready to fuck her.”

  “So what do you suggest we do with her?”

  The short guy runs his hands through his hair a few times then says, “What’s that place in the park where all the guys take girls to make out?”

  “Make Out Ridge,” the big guy says.

  “Let’s take her out there. We’ll say that we saw her at the party and she left with some guy we don’t really know. We’ll say it was a guy we were trying to pledge. We can be vague about it. Maybe he’s the one who drugged her and took her to Make Out Ridge. We have no idea what happened when she left. But she was fine when she walked out of the house.”

  “Whatever, dude,” the big guys says. “I just want to get laid at some point tonight.”

  “Mercer,” the short guy’s tone is serious. “The girl is dead. This is some fucked up shit and we could get in real trouble. We have to take care of this. I don’t want to go to jail.”

  The big guy actually laughs. “We’re not going to jail. We didn’t do anything wrong.” He waves a hand at Claire. “It was an accident. It’s not like we were trying to kill her. We just wanted to have a little fun with her.”

  “We need to make it look like someone else’s problem. We’ll take her out the back. Load her into my car. And we’ll dump her somewhere over near Make Out Ridge.”

  “As long as we get back here before all the girls are taken. Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

  The little guy pokes a finger in the big guy’s chest. “This is on both of us. We need to stick together, okay? We saw the girl at the party. She left with some guy. We have no idea what happened after that. We have to stick with that story. Got it?”

  “Yea, I got it. Now let’s get the chick out of here.”

  The two guys grab Claire under her shoulders and pull her off the bed. Then they drag her out of the room.