Carcel Evander Dawson

I woke up with a pounding headache, my throat was dry as sandpaper, and Crue's arm slung across my neck like a vise. The weight of it made it hard to breathe, but I was too tired to push him off.

Last night had been a blur of alcohol, laughter, and bad decisions. We hadn't stopped drinking until the bottles were empty and all of us passed out. The girls had left before things got too wild, which was a relief. If they hadn't, I would've dragged their asses out myself.

I finally managed to pry Crue's arm off and stumbled out of bed, wincing as each step sent a jolt of pain through my skull. The sun was already peeking through the blinds, and I cursed under my breath.

Mornings like this made me seriously consider putting a fridge in my room-anything to avoid the agony of having to get up after a night like that. The thought of trekking downstairs just to get a drink was almost unbearable.

As I made my way down the stairs, I was greeted by the aftermath of last night's crime. My place was trashed, like we'd hosted a party for fifty people instead of just us.

Empty bottles and cans littered the floor, and random items were scattered across the room-someone's shoes, a knocked-over lamp, and what looked like a broken pool cue.

The smell hit me next, a rancid mix of stale alcohol and something far worse, making my already queasy stomach churn.

I held my breath, desperate to avoid inhaling any more of the stench, and hurried to the kitchen. The only thing on my mind was water-cold, refreshing water to quench my thirst and maybe, just maybe, ease the pounding in my head.

I grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim, chugging it down in seconds. One glass wasn't enough. I poured another, and another, until I'd downed five in a row. The icy liquid coursed through me, numbing the edges of my hangover.

Feeling a bit more human, I headed toward the balcony, hoping to air out the stench clinging to every corner of my home.

As I crossed the living room, I stepped on something soft and squishy. The texture alone made my skin crawl, and when I looked down, my stomach lurched.

"Who the fuck puked in my house!"

My shout must have pierced through the fog of alcohol and sleep, because Crue came barreling down the stairs like his life depended on it.

He didn't even think, he just automatically reacted to the sound of my voice. But the second he hit the bottom step, he froze, the reality of the situation hitting him square in the face-or rather, the nose.

The stench that had been making me gag must have slapped him just as hard because his face twisted in disgust, and for a second, I thought he was going to add to the mess on the floor.

"Jesus, Carcel, what the hell happened in here?" Crue managed to choke out, his voice thick with nausea.

"Do I look like I fucking know?" I muttered, my voice low and filled with irritation. The realization of who was responsible made my blood boil.

It must have been Ace, it has to be that fucker, he had the audacity to ruin my place and then just slink off, leaving us to deal with the aftermath.

We didn't stick around long after that. The smell alone was enough to make staying impossible. So now, here we are, holed up in Jordan's apartment, a much-needed sanctuary after the disaster zone that was my home.

The contrast between our two places couldn't have been more stark. Where mine reeked of stale alcohol and puke, Jordan's home was a breath of fresh air-literally. The moment we stepped inside, the clean, citrusy scent hit us, and I could almost feel the nausea melting away.

Jordan, being the saint he is, took pity on us and immediately started prepping brunch. The sounds of him moving around the kitchen, the clatter of pans and the sizzle of something on the stove, were oddly comforting.

More than that, he handed me and Crue a tall glass filled with a concoction that promised to take the edge off our hangovers. It tasted bitter, like some kind of herbal remedy, but we weren't in any position to complain.

I slumped into the chair, cradling the hangover drink like a baby. My head pounded with every heartbeat, and I massaged my forehead while saying a prayer that could hopefully cure this shit. I didn't see that motherfucker here, maybe his still sleeping, Good for because once he wake up I'd make sure he'd regret it, he should have just stayed asleep for the rest of his life.

Speak of the devil.

Ace waltzed out of the room, scratching his back and yawning like he'd just had the best sleep of his life. He got to sleep with clean pajamas while we just slept in our dirty clothes. The sight of him, so relaxed and refreshed, made my blood boil even more.

"I'll go to school today," he announced with a ridiculous amount of energy for someone who had drunk and puked down bottles of alcohol. "We have a championship match!" His voice was almost cheerful, completely oblivious to the hell he'd left in his wake.

I didn't even hesitate. I stood up, walked straight towards him, and threw my arm around his shoulders, locking my grip around his neck in a chokehold.

"You son of a bitch," I hissed into his ear, tightening my grip just enough to make him choke a little. "My house smells like a goddamn dumpster because of your puke. Clean it up!"

Ace, despite being half-strangled, managed to let out a strangled laugh, trying to wiggle out of my grip. "Chill, man, it was just a little-"

"Just a little?!" I cut him off, squeezing tighter. "You've got about five seconds to reconsider that statement before I make sure you regret it."

"Alright, alright!" Ace coughed, trying to pry my arm off his neck. "I'll clean it up, I promise! Just let me go!"

Before I could decide whether or not to make good on my threat, Jordan's voice cut through the tension.

"No fighting in my house, please," he said, his tone was so calm even when he placed a steaming plate of food on the table. The aroma of freshly cooked eggs, bacon, and pancakes wafted through the air, and despite my irritation, I felt my stomach growl.

The hangover drink had worked better than I'd expected, I thought I wouldn't have the appetite to eat after I saw what I saw in my house.

Reluctantly, I released Ace, giving him a final shove for good measure. He stumbled forward, rubbing his neck and muttering under his breath, but I ignored him. The sight of the food was too tempting. I slid back into my chair, my focus shifting entirely to the plate in front of me.

"Didn't you get a hangover?" Crue asked, his voice hoarse and rough like gravel. He looked miserable, slumping down beside me. "I think I'm dying." he added, rubbing his temples as if trying to massage the headache away.

Ace, on the other hand, looked disgustingly fresh, sitting down with a smug grin. "I don't know why, but I think it's because Jordan gave me one of those hangover cures before bed," he said, practically beaming as if he'd won some secret prize.

I shot Jordan a glare, my irritation flaring up again. "You took care of him and left me to die?" I complained, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my tone.

Jordan didn't even flinch,he was just peacefully sipping his coffee. "You'll be fine. You just need to rest," he replied, completely unfazed by my complaint. "I'm heading to the office after we eat. Your dad called me in," he added casually, as if discussing the weather.

Jordan was also working for my dad aside from being my driver, I don't exactly know what work his involve with but his pretty close to my father. With my place being a mess, and I had no intention of dealing with it today. But if Jordan was leaving then maybe I could crash here.

"Can I stay here?"

Jordan considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "If you want, but a lot of people will be coming in today," he said, pausing as if to weigh the pros and cons. "I'll have someone from the main house come over and clean our apartments," he added, his tone neutral, but the implication was clear.

Oh, fuck.

If someone from the main house was coming, there was a high chance my mom might show up to 'inspect' the place. The last thing I needed was her seeing the aftermath of our little party. Her lectures were worse than any hangover. I let out a deep sigh, realizing I had no choice.

"No, I'll just go with them,"

After breakfast, I hopped into the shower, making sure whatever the disgusting smell, my apartment had, didn't stick to me.

I've always been particular about smells-anything less than clean is unacceptable. I got out of the bathroom and dressed casually, I was not in the mood for wearing that uniform. I figured the school pin would suffice. Slipping on my watch and grabbing my phone, I headed out, feeling slightly more human.

Jordan decided to drop us off at the university since none of us were in any condition to drive. Crue slumped into the seat next to me, looking like he was about to pass out again, while Ace took the passenger seat, and slept.

As we drove, my mind wandered to the fact that Jordan was called into the office. Could it be that he's reporting my progress to my dad? If that's the case, I have nothing to worry about.

Jordan knows I've been hands-on with the project for days. I've already hired employees-some are working directly with the company, while others are external. I wanted a diverse team to see who excels and who doesn't, and it wasn't an easy job at all.

Since I decided to take another day off, I figured I might as well catch up on a few emails. I pulled out my phone and saw the notifications. As I scrolled through it, a series of unfamiliar texts caught my eye.

Hi, Artist ID number 0000000009, this message is to let you know that Viewer Diana Rose would like to connect with you. If you reply yes, the viewer's contact number will be given; if you answer no, we will void the request.
Sent 12:30 AM

Hi, Artist ID number 0000000009, this message is to let you know that Viewer Caty would like to connect with you. If you reply yes, the viewer's contact number will be given; if you answer no, we will void the request.
Sent 12:30 AM

Hi, Artist ID number 0000000009, this message is to let you know that Viewer Shantal would like to connect with you. If you reply yes, the viewer's contact number will be given; if you answer no, we will void the request.
Sent 12:30 AM

I crunched my nose at the messages, muttering under my breath, "What the fuck is this?" Crue, noticing my reaction, snapped his gaze to me.

"What?" he asked, curiosity piqued. I handed him my phone, still confused by the strange messages.

"It looks like it's from that app you registered for yesterday," he said, glancing through the texts.

Huh? Registered for what?

I stared at him, blinking stupidly for i don't remember doing shit. "You lost the game of pool to Ace, you dumbass, and he made you register," Crue reminded me, sighing as if I were the biggest idiot on the planet. He rolled his eyes for emphasis.

Oh, yeah, I fucking remember now. Let's take a mental note: never drink when playing pool.

"Look at the last message," Crue added with a chuckle, handing the phone back to me.

We need to shut down the app temporarily.
Sent 1:11PM

The system's crashing! And who the hell is Carcel Dawson?!
Sent 1:11PM

His making everyone crazy, fuck him! Please rescue me!! ASAP
Sent 1:11 PM

I stared at the message, for a minute. How could someone be stupid enough to send a text like that to the wrong person? Did the app really crash that quickly? And who even developed this thing? It's utterly useless if it can't handle a sudden influx of users.

The more I thought about it, the more I found myself smiling. The fact that someone in the school didn't know who I was-and had the guts to curse my name-was oddly refreshing.

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head as I turned off my phone. What a disaster. But somehow, I couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction.

It's not every day that I get to break something without even trying. Now, I think going to school wasn't a bad idea.

As we pulled up to the campus, I noticed the energy in the air was different, and I don't think I like it.

The place was buzzing with activity-students rushing around, setting up booths, and laughing loudly.

Foundation Week had transformed the university into a festival of colors, music, and excitement. It was like the number of students had tripled overnight.

I winced at the sensory overload. The colors were too bright, the music too loud, and the enthusiasm too over-the-top. I just want the usual monotony of school days, where it was at least peaceful and quiet.

Despite the festive atmosphere, one thing remained unchanged: the unspoken divide between the elite students and the scholars.

Now this feels like my school.

Even during Foundation Week, the two groups kept their distance. The elite students strutted around, being their arrogant usual selves, while the scholars stayed on the fringes, manning their modest booths and avoiding eye contact. It was the same old story, year after year.

I stretched my arms out, feeling the need for a place where I wouldn't be bothered. The perfect spot came to mind-the garden between the annex and the main building. It's usually deserted at this time, offering plenty of shade and fresh air. Perfect for a quick break.

After bidding Crue and Ace a quick goodbye as they headed to the gym, I started making my way to the garden. I kept a low profile, avoiding people, especially my loving fiancée, who would no doubt tail me the moment she spotted me.

As the fountain came into view, I glanced around-empty, just as I expected. With everyone flocking to the school quad for Foundation Week, this place was deserted, perfect.

I found a secluded spot and laid back, letting the quiet settle around me. My eyes were about to close when the sound of approaching footsteps made me freeze. Instinctively, I shifted lower, blending into the shadows.

Wait, why the hell am I hiding?

"Shit, shit, shit!" A girl's voice shattered the silence, frantic and raw.

"He saw it. He's going to kill me," she muttered, her footsteps pacing like she was trapped.

"Why did I even send that?" Her voice rose in panic. I silently listened

"Carcel Dawson, Please don't kill me."