The Story of Blood and Roses

When I reached my bedroom, I placed all the letters on the bed and divided the letters into two sets. There were two sets of letters in general because of the difference in penmanship. I reached out for the neater writing. I switched on the bedside lamp and put the letters over it one by one. I saw the word Jasper written on top of it and realized that the letters were from him. There were more than five letters in total in the bunch and it left me curious. Why would Jasper try to contact me, now? I got the first letter letting me know that he was following me, but all the other letters made little sense to me. I tore the top of the first envelope and pulled the letter out. The texture of the paper showed that it was the handmade quality. I opened the letter which was folded into three to see two handwritten lines written on it.

[\'Nothing suspected by me,

Nothing proved can be...

-Written with a Diamond on her Window at Woodstock (Queen Elizabeth I)

Yours,

Jasper.\']

It made little sense to me. But the words \'suspect\' and \'proved\' popped out. As I took a closer look, I realized that he was either implying that he had been accused of something that he had either not done or had done, but there was no proof of it, or he was meaning to tell me that he thought Anthony suspected me but that no concrete proof to put me to the same fate as Scott. If the words had any other implications, they didn\'t come to my mind. Deeply unsettled, I folded the letter and put it inside the envelope again.

The next letter was on an A-4 sheet with the same bold print as the first letter.

\'Who was your father, Mia? Both of us wish you knew. His death was not an accident.\'

There was no signature, but the handwriting on the envelope was similar to that of the writing style in the previous letter. So, there was no doubt that it had been Jasper who had sent this message. One letter after the other, it went. Poetry had never been something that I had had a strong affinity towards and the hidden meanings alluded me. Every letter made a new sense of confusion fill me. I tried to overshadow the dread with the mist of confusion so that I wouldn\'t lose my mind while Anthony was in the same apartment. He would get curious and he would search for me. I couldn\'t figure out how that was going to work in my favour.

I wondered what excuse I would give him for taking so long. I shoved all the letters indiscriminately into the private cabinet behind my bed, reminding myself to grab them as soon as Anthony left the building. The answer came easily as I shoved the letters inside. I grabbed a towel and some comfortable clothes to wear and took a long, much-needed shower. The heat of the water scorched my skin, by soothed my muscles as well. The blistering warmth of the steam kept my mind from wandering to darker places.

The shower didn\'t take long, as I needed an alibi. I knew exactly where the videos were so that wouldn\'t take too much time. One would call me paranoid. I was that and someone who cared for insignificant information. I wanted no part of the story to go wrong and be caught. Always be cautious. Never change your story. Never let your guard down. These values had been drilled into me the moment I had joined the academy to become an agent in the organization. It was just as twisted as fight club, only I wasn\'t as crazy as the protagonist, neither was I Marla Singer. And this twisted version of Fight Club was more real than the whole concept could get.

When I exited the room, I saw Anthony still standing with his eyes zoomed at the balcony. I placed my laptop on the couch and realized that the food had arrived.

"The boy delivering the food seemed traumatized. He didn\'t look particularly happy to be the one to deliver the order." He startled me. I looked up at him to see that he was staring at me.

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