Book 3: Chapter 25 - When the Dog Gets Out

People often forget, in their stories, that Violet Asher had a C average in school.

Stop telling stories like she was a genius.

Yes. She was clever, when she needed to be.
She was quick, and she used her talents to great effect.
But she was no smarter than the average person.

Some people are remarkable only in their capacity for evil.
—Daisy Whitaker, Interview

Chase hated Prism City. The red glow bathing every wall, window, and road made him sick. Not the color specifically, but the refusal of the city to sleep. Every district made him dizzy, and the school was the worst of all of them. It was well past sunset as he wandered the streets of the red district, and it felt like the town was screaming.

The locals would call it quiet. But to Chase, who'd only left Roseville to protect Alex, it was little better than a circus. This was the closest Prism ever got to a state of silence. And it would drown out the busiest days back home. There was no peace to be had in this godforsaken hellhole.

Not that quiet and peace were really the same. Chase could hope for the former, someday. But never the latter. He would never sleep through the night again. 

After that night on the tower with Violet... he'd hoped he could stop her. He told himself he could undermine the girl who'd murdered his best friend. That if he suffered enough, he could bring her to justice. She'd been arrogant when she confessed to him, and he'd hoped to make her regret it. And when he did, he thought there'd be a real life waiting for him on the other side.

He still believed he could stop her. But that was the end of his hope. He didn't deserve anything after that. If he had the strength to do it, he'd stop her himself or die trying. But he knew he'd lose that fight. He'd only die without accomplishing anything. He knew now. That he wasn't going to live to graduate from Chromatic. Violet was going to be the death of him one way or another. 

And he deserved it. 

He'd helped her murder a man. It didn't matter that Violet technically hadn't lied. The result was the same. And Chase couldn't convince himself otherwise. Violet had gone out that night to murder a man. She'd brought Chase along. And she'd used him as a weapon.

He wanted to believe he hadn't known. But he had. He'd understood exactly what Violet wanted from him. And he'd done it anyway. Because he was afraid. Terrified that his defiance was actually what she was betting on. Because he knew she might’ve wanted him to betray her, and it would play into some deeper plan. 

He'd convinced himself that was the case. That the only way to avoid really helping her kill was to do exactly as she said.

And a man was dead. Another had been arrested for the crime, as far as Chase knew. And only Violet and Chase were actually guilty. Chase had trapped himself in his own head, overestimated Violet's scheming, and mindlessly followed her orders until he had blood on his hands.

He should have been relieved when she left the city. Her mission offered Chase a few weeks of peace. She wouldn't taunt him. She wouldn't tell him stories of her atrocities while drawing memorabilia for them. He would finally be alone. 

She must have understood that. Because she ensured he would carry her with him regardless. She'd saddled him with shame he'd never escape. The silent reprieve was nothing but a lack of distraction from his own complicity.

He hated her. And she'd infected his soul with the same filth as hers. That grime that caked every smile she ever wore. It was on his lips and in his ears. The cracking of the gun rang through his mind like that fucking bell. At the top of the tower where he'd died. 

For a week, he lived with that. The hateful reprieve made him sick. Until he almost wished Violet was back, torturing him again. Then he'd have a target to hate more than himself, if nothing else.

That was a thought he regretted, however. As soon as he got the letters.

The first was the same as always. His father, lecturing him about the family. Asking if he'd enticed Violet into a relationship yet. Those messages always made him shudder. Chase's opportunistic father had no idea whose coattails he wanted to ride. But that was easy to dismiss. Chase had dealt with his dad for years.

It was the second letter that forced Chase into the dark streets of Prism City. Shivering in the unnatural light of far too much red.

He didn't know who'd sent the letter for Violet. She couldn't have done it herself, logistically speaking. But she'd arranged for it regardless. When he retrieved his regular mail, he'd found a new set of instructions from her. Written in clean, nearly featureless penmanship. Like she'd carefully considered each line of every letter and drawn with the precision of a machine.

She had more instructions for him. Orders which made him sick to his stomach as he read them. He didn't know what she was planning. But one thing seemed obvious. Violet was trying to use him as a weapon again. She obviously needed another murder to take place while she had an alibi, and she planned to use Chase to do it. 

He didn't know how. In fact, her instructions seemed to have the aim of keeping a man alive rather than getting anyone killed. But Chase knew there was more to it. Like there had been more to sending those cops to that motel. 

He wasn't going to play along this time. 

Whatever she was doing. If someone was going to get hurt, they wouldn't be a casualty of Chase's obedience. Never again. 

She'd given him very specific instructions. What food to buy from what stalls or shops. What time of day to deliver it. They were far too particular. Chase didn't know how every poison worked, but he was certain that was the plan somehow. 

Violet had a man locked in a storage container. A man who'd have run out of water a day ago, and food two days before. He was probably there specifically so Chase could help her kill him. 

But that wasn't going to happen. Not this fucking time. He wouldn't be stopping at any stalls. He wasn't going at the time of day he'd been given. Chase didn't care anymore. His reputation was beside the point, and this was the best chance Violet would give him.

The captive may have seen Violet. Or maybe not. But Chase was going to rescue the man and bring him to the police as soon as he had the chance. Whether this captive was a useful witness or not, he would provide credibility to Chase's claims. Or Chase would be framed, perhaps. But it was worth that risk. He’d rather be arrested than help Violet kill again. He’d even deserve it.

He finally made his way to the storage unit Violet had mentioned in the letter. It was one of many, and he was somehow surprised to find it unremarkable. Some part of him believed it would feel different, just because of its insidious use. But the roll-up door was identical to every other unit. Covered in red crystal, yet somehow as grungy and beat up. Chase hated how everything was coated with crystal in Prism. He understood why. With a city full of different callings, crystal was the only thing that could protect privacy and property.

But back home, in Roseville? People had simply trusted each other. He’d been told that was a naive way to live. Or that his town would look the same as Prism if it had the clarity to spare. But that didn’t feel like the whole story. And this way of living just felt... grotesque.

He checked the letter in his hand one final time, just to make sure he was at the right unit. He couldn’t stop the churning of his stomach as his eyes met Violet’s words again. She’d taken on an almost business-like tone when writing, but had still managed to taunt him. She’d signed the letter with “The Cruel Ivy Killer.” So instead of evidence that Violet Asher had abducted a man and left him locked in a storage container for a week, it was just evidence that Chase was working with the killer. It made no threats or mention of the exact connection he had with Violet. If he turned this letter into the police, it would look like a relationship between equals.

He was considering doing it anyway. The campus had been crawling with cops all week. They weren’t investigating every student, and they seemed to be starting from the end of the alphabet for those who were being questioned. So Chase had time. But he’d be called in eventually, and someone would recognize him. Unlike this storage service, which had only one camera at the entrance, the police station was crawling with them. Chase had almost definitely been caught on camera when he’d helped Violet. That was likely why she’d brought him in the first place. He was lucky his face wasn’t on posters all over the city already. If the police weren’t keeping so much of the investigation classified, he likely would be.

He sighed and knelt in front of the unit. The padlock used a four-digit code instead of a key. To allow Chase inside, no doubt. He didn’t have to check the letter to verify the code.

0706

Alex’s birthday.

Chase probably wouldn’t live to see Violet die. But he hoped she suffered when it happened. He cycled each number on the orange padlock until the four familiar numbers were aligned. With a gentle tug, the lock opened. Chase took a deep breath before lifting the large bar locking the door in place, and another before grabbing the handle.

The door screeched in protest as he opened it, and Chase felt like there was a spotlight on him with every inch it moved. He didn’t understand how Violet had confidently locked a man inside. The damn thing announced his presence to anyone with even a few attribute points in perception. He was going to have a heart attack trying to set the man free, and she’d been entirely unbothered about putting him there in the first place.

It was almost enough to make him doubt the man was in there at all. Except for the smell that assaulted him as the door opened. There was nothing specific about it. But it carried a certainty that a prisoner had been kept inside and neglected. He hadn’t expected that, but only because he hadn’t considered it. Yet, once he was confronted with the scent, he realized it was far milder than it should have been.

He was further surprised as he released the door at the top of the entrance and revealed the inside. It was perfectly clean. Or as clean as an unfurnished storage unit could be. 

“I’d really like it if you were here to let me go,” the tired man greeted. The letter said his name was Demetri. He looked hopeful but resigned at the same time. Chase wasn’t sure how to interpret that. He was still taken aback by the container. There was what appeared to be a composting toilet in one corner, and there was a clarity-run air conditioner in the middle. There were empty water bottles and a few tupperware containers neatly stacked in the side of the room. And the beleaguered man was chained by his neck to the floor.

“Does she... like you?” Chase asked. It wasn’t what he’d planned, and the words sounded insane the minute they left his lips. 

Demetri leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. He didn’t seem to think the question was as strange as Chase did, despite everything. 

“I’d hate to hear how she treats you, if that’s your first thought,” he answered.

Chase stood frozen for a moment. Then he realized he was standing free in front of a chained man. “Sorry,” he answered. “I am. I came to help you.”

Demetri’s breath caught, and he looked at Chase with wide eyes and renewed interest. “Shit. I thought you must be working with her,” he whispered. “How did you find me?”

Chase was starting to feel hope for the first time in days. This man knew Chase wasn’t the killer. He knew he’d been captured by a woman. He must have seen Violet at some point. He must have. She wouldn’t have bothered with AC or the means to stay clean otherwise. She did like the man, in a way. In her twisted way. He’d spoken to her, and he could testify against her.

He’d been chained for at least a week, probably more. The police would believe him. Everyone would believe him. Chase understood now. The real reason Violet had brought him to kill that cop. It was a test. She wanted to know for sure that Chase would be too afraid to defy her. Before she sent him on this errand. She really thought Chase would feed and water this man like a horse. That he’d keep him chained and care for him in her absence. Instead of letting him go. 

She was wrong. And she’d just delivered the evidence Chase had been waiting for. His leash wasn’t as long as Violet thought.

“I’m sorry,” Chase said. “I found you because I know who trapped you here. I don’t have a key to your chains, but I’m bringing the police back here. I’m going to make sure you go home.”

“Fuck. Thank Christ,” Demetri sighed. “This chain is uncomfortable as fuck.”

Chase was certain the front office had a phone. And if not, someone else would. He just needed to make a call, and he could make up for his mistakes. But first, before the police arrived and asked Demetri to describe his captor, Chase thought the man deserved to know who’d done this to him. “Her name is Violet,” Chase said. “Violet Asher.”