Chapter two: Bella

Isabella’s POV

“Tonight the body of young Adam Collins was discovered in the state of New York with - get this- a red box cutter embedded in his chest. We have seen many other cases like this all around the country. It is believed that this murder is linked to the notorious killer Lucifer. Lucifer is known for killing the very religious especially Christians. This killer is still on the loose, we advise everyone to stay vigilant. We now turn our cameras to Jim for the five day forca-” The TV screen switched to black as I scowl with disgust.

 

“Layla can you believe this?” I ask turning to my roommate, “They still haven’t caught that guy, and who the hell kills with a box cutter?”

 

“Mmhm, yea okay. Can you help me with this,” she replies indicating to a textbook laid out across the kitchen counter.

 

I gave her a look “What makes you think I can help with that? You’re the smart one.”

 

“You’re totally right I don’t know why I asked.”

 

“That’s just mean.”

 

“You should get started on your work too ya’ know.”

 

“Eh I’ll do it later.”

 

“That essay is going to be saved to the last minute isn’t it?”

 

“Yup.” I quip popping the “p”.

 

“I’m gonna drive to the flower shop and pick up a few things for the apartment, it clearly needs some improvements,” Layla’s eyes glance across the bare room, “What’s you’re favorite flower?”

 

“Bleeding heart,” I answer easily, “I don’t think decorating the apartment with flowers is a good idea. Every plant that I’ve touched has died.”

 

Layla rolls her eyes in response, then saunters out the door. I watch her leave. Giving my head a shake, I return my attention to the blank screen of the television. As I stare at the TV, my mind finds itself on the subject of Lucifer once again. “What kind of sick persons runs around killing people, and he kills hard-core Christians. At least I’m safe.” I mused, “Although there have been instances where he’s tortured attractive girls and killed them after he’s had his fun. I’m still out of harm’s way then.”

 

-Line Break-

 

“There’s nothing to do with Layla gone,” I mutter a while later as I roll around the on couch, “I might as well get started on that essay. But I don’t wanna. It is due soon. I can finish it in like 2 hours. It’s worth like 30% of our grade. I’ll do it as an hour, You’ll just keep saying that until the last minute. One more episode of Good Mythical Morning. Just work on the essay! Ugh fine.” I stop my internal arguing and flop over to the indigo Jansport book bag thrown carelessly on the floor hours before. I rifle through the messy, bottomless pit I call a backpack, and come up to let out a breathy, “Well, f**k. Did I really leave the instructions in Professor Yom’s classroom. Well at least I don’t have to do it today. It’s due soon, the professor is still in the classroom right now, it’s like 20 minutes away just run over and get it. Knowing me it’ll probably take twice as long, and I don’t wanna. Just do it, you lazy a*s.”

 

I glance at my phone and cringe, did I really spend 15 minutes arguing with myself. I’m surprised I made it into college with how much I excel at wasting time. Throwing on an acceptable outfit for venturing into the dangers of society, I stumble out the door. The streets are still packed with people at 6 pm and said people throw me weird looks as I pass by. I suddenly realize, I probably look like a zombie. Bags under my eyes, hair thrown carelessly up in a ponytail, an outfit that clearly stated I give literally zero f***s, bad posture, and a sluggish pace, yep definitely look like a zombie. Although, I’m definitely not the strangest thing they’ll see today, I honestly wouldn’t that be surprised if I saw a real zombie walking around. Manhattan is filled with such weird people.

 

As I neared the campus, I sigh, “It would have been awesome to live here. This is what I get for waiting until the last minute to register. How do you run out of dorms anyway. I’m just lucky Layla and I have been friends since like kindergarten, and she doesn’t mind my gayness.”

 

I sprint to the Yom’s classroom, taking a calming breath, I pushing the door open.

 

“Mis Blackwood, what brings you here at this hour?” the source of the voice came from a short man standing at the whiteboard with a stain on his dress shirt. He proceeded to scan me with hungry eyes.

 

“I um left my assignment here on accident, did you happen to pick it up?”

 

“Why yes you did, you should be more responsible, that assignment is worth 30.98% of your final grade.”

 

I was suddenly so glad I ran here, he would have no doubt belittled me in front of the whole class tomorrow if I had waited. “Yeah, um, thanks professor, I’ll keep that in mind,” I grinned nervously as I quickly snatch the assignment and flee the classroom. Professor Yom gives me the creeps, they way he would stare at me and lick his lips sends shivers down my back. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s a pervert who wants to get in my pants.

 

The sky was dark as I turned into my street, and I felt relief course through my veins when I see light flooding out through the windows. That is, until my foot hit something and I tumbled rather ungracefully onto the road. “What the hell did I trip over? I know it’s not my own two feet this time.” Pulling out my phone, I activate the flashlight. A gasp escapes my lips as I realized I had tripped over someone. Said someone was lying face down, drenched in blood, presumably their own. I flip the stranger over as gently as possible, and a lump formed in my throat. “She looks just like her,” I whisper. Now normally I would walk away, but something about her made me want to bring her home and take care of her. I mentally groan at my idiocy and lug the stranger onto her feet, dragging her the last few yards home.

 

“Oh my gosh, where have you been? I was worried sick. It’s like seven o'clock-who’s that?” Layla stopped her rant when she noticed the unconscious person I had in my arms.

 

“I, uh found her on the streets and-”

 

“You brought a stranger home with you!”

 

“She was hurt. I couldn’t just leave her!” in truth, I actually could.

 

“Why would you do this. For all you know she could be the serial killer you saw on the news.”

 

“She looks like her.”

 

“Her?”

 

“She looks like Logan.”

 

Layla gave me that look. You know, that look, the look that screamed “you’re a complete idiot!” To be fair I am an idiot, but she didn’t have to give me that look. “Isabella Rose Blackwood-”

 

“Crap, use of full name.”

 

She carried on like I hadn’t interrupted, “She might look like your crush from middle school, but you are not supposed to bring random strangers into our home, she could be diseased!”

 

“She is going to bleed out on the floor.”

 

“Fine let's just help her and tell her to leave when she’s conscious.”

 

I unceremoniously dump the stranger on the ground, cursing myself seconds later for possibly hurting her even more. As Layla crouched down to inspect Logan-look-alike’s wounds, her words sunk in. What if this stranger really is dangerous, what if I made a big mistake by saving her? I push those doubts away. There’s probably a million things she hasn’t done, maybe, by saving her, I gave her the chance to do something great.  I was brought out of my inner conflict by Layla’s voice, “She looks to be okay, only a few cuts along the stomach.  They should heal rather quickly.”

 

“Oh good, how long do you think it’ll take before it heals?”  there was no response from Layla, “ Hey Layla. Layla.  Whats wrong I feel like something's wrong.  Layla?”