Page 23 of Like An Animal

THE SHADOW

I push open the door, wrinkling my nose at the environment.

Arnold, the hacker I pay to do whatever I need, is a filthy pig who can’t take care of himself.

He can’t even be bothered to pick up his trash, but he doesn’t seem to mind the mess or the rancid smell.

The one time I asked about the state of his place, the dirt and rotten food all over the place, he said it had something to do with a mental illness.

It’s still gross. There’s a difference between someone who struggles to clean up after themselves and shower due to mental illness and someone that is just lazy.

I have the feeling that Arnold’s situation is pure laziness.

Once a month, his mother comes and cleans up the place for him. She should be coming by in another week.

“Arnold,” I grumble under my breath as I walk into his office, shoving my hands in my pockets. I carefully step around all the trash as I make my way to his desk.

I swear, I need to hire a live-in maid for him. No one should live like this.

I’ve demolished human bodies with my bare hands and nothing has ever disgusted me like this.

“Yeah, boss?” he responds while taking a big bite out of what has to be a frozen burrito.

“I’ve got a job for you. I need you to find someone for me.”

He nods as he taps away on the computer.

“Give me a name, boss. I can find anyone on the face of this Earth, unless they have truly gone off grid. I can’t help you there, but let’s see what we can do.”

I expect answers from everyone, but I give Arnold leeway because I know he gives his all with every task I give him.

“Bronwyn Durst.” I rattle off all of her personal details, including her social security number. I doubt that will be very helpful though. If a private investigator couldn’t find her, she probably assumed a new identity, which is why Arnold is the only person I can come to with this.

“Feel free to have a seat. This may take a minute,” Arnold offers, motioning to the arm chair next to his desk, but I wrinkle my nose at the stack of old takeout boxes in said chair.

“I can stand,” I mutter, trying not to let my judgment show on my face. I was lucky enough to never live in squalor. That is the only good thing that Kathy ever gave me. Our house was never dirty, stinky, or filled with insects.

“Huh. That’s bizarre,” he grumbles.

“What?”

“All I’m finding is records from five years ago.

Do you happen to have a picture or some footage of her?

I can use my facial recognition program to look for her.

It might be a few days before it catches her.

There’s a lot of records to comb through.

” I know if she’s anywhere to be found, he’ll find her.

If not, I’ll be joining her in the unknown place between life and death.

There has only ever been one purpose of my life and it’s always been her. If she’s not breathing, there’s no point in me staying. Life has only ever brought me pain anyway.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a folded up photograph of Bronwyn.

She had no idea I stole one of her school pictures so I could look at her face whenever I wanted.

It’s not the real her. The real Bronwyn doesn’t smile like that.

Her smiles are genuine and small while this one is big and fake to cover up all the fucked up shit we went through.

No one can see you breaking if you smile big enough or laugh hard enough.

She felt like she had to hide it, but I never did. Everyone knew I was damaged goods by looking at me.

Arnold takes the picture and barely glances at it before placing it on the desk.

“She’s pretty,” he remarks in passing, but the familiar rage I’ve lived with rises in my blood.

“Arny, I like you so, don’t make me want to kill you.”

Unlike other people who get freaked out when I say shit like that, Arnold just shrugs and keeps typing away.

“Do you want something to eat?” I could place an order for him, but the man is very particular.

He never leaves his house. I tried to ask him about it once, but he shut me down quickly. All I got from him was that the outside world was a lot less scary when you don’t participate in it.

That was enough for me to fill in all the blanks.

Agoraphobia.

The man doesn’t even grab packages off his porch.

I’ve even tried moving him to a bigger, nicer and more secure place, but he shut that down too. He’s just stuck in this place and his life is so depressing.

“I’m okay, boss. I’ll let you know when I’ve got some results.”

I awkwardly stand there for a minute. Wanting to say something, offer to fix his situation in some way, but most of the ways I could, he would refuse.

My hands are tied for the most part. I can literally only think of one thing I could do that could help.

“You want me to do what ?” Andrey gapes as he stands in my office, looking vastly uncomfortable.

He’s my assistant for lack of a better term.

He does whatever I tell him to and for him to ask questions like this is one of the easiest ways for him to end up in a vat of acid, which just so happens to be my grandfather’s favorite way to torture people he wants to kill–slowly lowering them into the acid.

Well, outside of his tank of man-eating sharks.

It’s quite poetic.

“Are you questioning me?” I narrow my eyes and I watch as he shrinks away, realizing his misstep.

“No, not at all.” He awkwardly laughs. “Ju-just asking for clarification, sir.”

“Good,” I growl at the fucker. “Find Arnold a live-in maid, someone to take care of him and keep him company. Get the picture?”

I can’t fix his situation, but I can make it a little bit more comfortable.

“Make sure you get someone who can cook. He’s currently living off a diet of freezer burned burritos.”

I open my laptop, my signal for him to get out of my office before I start feeling stabby.

“Yes, sir.” Andrey practically runs away as I click on my mouse, lighting up the screen to reveal the slideshow of photographs that make my screensaver.

It's all the pictures I took of Bronwyn laid out in my bed, naked or clothed. Then, there’s also a few that she took of me and her together.

In every picture she took, she’s smiling, but it’s small and genuine.

It’s not the same as it was in the picture I gave Arnold. This is my little ghost.

I pick up my phone before dialing Massimo, clicking my tongue along with the ringing.

“Yello?” he answers quickly.

“I need you to do a favor for me. Can you prepare the jet?”

“The jet? Can’t you get Andrey to do that?”

“He’s preoccupied with a task I gave him. Plus, you’re coming with me.”

He coughs. “What? Where the fuck are we going?”

“Grove Hill.”