See No Evil

“What do you mean, someone knows?” Easton belts out menacingly as if he were about to murder someone.

That might be a poorly chosen turn of phrase, all things considered, but I think we’ve already established that all four of us are capable of such devious acts. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if one of us found a liking to it. If I were a betting man, my money would be on either Colt or Easton, so no shock there that East is the one to hurl the first angry outburst, thirsty for blood.

Lincoln looks out past the three of us, and being the paranoid asshole that I am, I follow his stare and check if anyone is close enough to eavesdrop on our conversation. But behind us, there isn’t anything but the vast Oakley woods, completely unguarded and vacant of all human life for miles on end. This solitude is one of the reasons we were able to get away with the shit we did that night.

“Not out here. Let’s go inside,” Lincoln orders, feeding further into my paranoia.

We do as he says and follow Lincoln, who thankfully bypasses the main living areas and rushes to the second floor, taking two stairs at a time. I don’t even stop for a minute to see if the rest of the guys are following or not, but by the loud stampede of feet behind me, I know Colt and Easton are not too far behind.

Lincoln heads to his room, and the minute all four of us are safely inside, he closes the door, giving us complete privacy for whatever new clusterfuck he’s going to lay on us.

“You’re freaking me out, cuz. What the fuck is going on?” Colt exclaims harshly, his cool, relaxed demeanor nowhere in sight.

“This isn’t exactly the reunion I was hoping for,” Lincoln murmurs under his breath, ru

It’s only now that I realize he let his hair grow longer, too. Just one of the many changes he’s made over the summer. He looks more like one of those pro surfers bumming around on an exotic beach somewhere waiting for the perfect wave, rather than the legitimate heir to the Richfield fortune—a reality that only came into fruition with the burial of his parents a few months ago.

“Yeah, well, the last time we were all under this roof, things didn’t turn out that great either,” I grumble, gaining Easton’s disappointed glare and Colt’s evil eye.

But it’s not their reaction that gets under my skin. Lincoln just looks at me with an empathetic gaze and a somber frown, making me feel like shit for opening my big mouth.

“Sorry. I’m being a dick,” I add, feeling like the worst fucking friend ever.

“When were you ever not one?” Lincoln tries to tease with a shy smile, easing my discomfort somewhat, and gaining a few agreeing, nervous chuckles from my two other friends.

However, when Lincoln’s eyes drop to the floor and he leans against his mahogany desk, seeming to gather the fortitude he needs to start explaining what he began to say outside, my nerves increase tenfold.

“What’s wrong, Linc?” I hate hearing the tremor in my voice, but as Lincoln’s expression grows darker, my panic becomes unavoidable.

“Yeah, cuz. This suspenseful shit is kind of doing a number on me, too. What do you mean someone knows?” Colt questions, taking two steps toward his distressed cousin, placing an encouraging hand on Lincoln’s shoulder to get him to start talking.

“You guys ever hear about a club called The Society?” Lincoln asks on a grave whisper, making my mind start to run rampant at the unexpected question.

“The fuck are you on about?” I retort abrasively, a

“Just hold your fucking horses, Fi

Instead of pacing the floor as I want, I take a seat on the bed next to a dead-silent Easton, hoping it will settle my nerves. He looks like he’s gotten his shit back together, while I’m sitting here diving deeper into my freak-out.

“Go on, Linc. Why did you bring up The Society?” Colt questions calmly.

“So, you have heard of it?” Lincoln queries back, interested in how the question didn’t confuse or mind-boggled Colt as much as me.

“Sure.” Colt shrugs unaffected. “Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t. It’s just an urban myth around campus. I’m sure every Ivy League school in the country has one. You know the kind—secret societies forged in the shadows, where rich college guys do shady shit to get in and think that being a member will somehow set them for life. Every college has some version of it, so it’s not a big reach that Richfield has its own twisted adaptation.”

“What do you mean twisted?” Easton chimes in curiously beside me, his brow cocked up high.

Having all eyes on him, Colt steps away from his cousin to lean against the door, his arms crossed at his chest.

“Myth says that every firstborn son is promised to the establishment to keep the bloodlines pure. They claim the members become the ones who rule this country with iron fists, and if you get in, the sky’s the limit. They’ll do whatever underhanded thing necessary to keep their power. Still, The Society makes sure it stays within the same families, only opening exceptions from time to time to those deemed worthy. Basically, it’s a boy’s club that promises a ‘get out of jail free card’ for the wealthy and privileged to use and abuse,” Colt explains with an amused tone behind each word, clearly showing his disbelief in such a load of crap.

“Is that it? You want to get into some secret society to make sure we don’t get caught?” I interrupt, getting yet another scowl from Colt. “The fuck is your problem?” I bluntly ask, tired of his patronizing glare.

“My problem is that you’re a gullible idiot. There’s no such thing, asswipe. As I said, it’s an urban legend, which means it doesn’t exist, asshole,” he scolds as if I were an errant child.

“Well, excuse me for asking,” I snap, giving him the finger, pissed off at his holier-than-thou attitude.

“I don’t think it’s a legend,” Lincoln interjects before Colt has time for a comeback, pulling our full attention back to him.

“It is, Linc,” Colt replies soothingly, obviously thinking his cousin may have lost all rationality over the summer if he spent it looking up fairytales and urban legends.

Shit, I’m surprised it took him that long to lose his mind. I’ve been a fucking wreck since it happened, and they weren’t even my parents. I can only imagine what Lincoln must be dealing with.

“If such a thing existed, don’t you think we would be in it by now? I mean, look at us. Who better to recruit into such a hush-hush society—ruled by one-percenters—than us?” Colt jokes, trying to sway our solemn friend away from his madness.

“Actually, I’m going to play devil’s advocate on this one. None of us are the firstborns in our families, so technically we wouldn’t be invited to join,” Easton interrupts, giving his own non-committal smirk to Colt’s cold-fronted stare. “Just stating facts.” Easton shrugs, leaning back on the bed, his elbows keeping his torso up.

“You’re not helping, East,” Colt chides, his eyes yelling at him to shut the fuck up. Colt then turns over to Lincoln with a more sympathetic appearance, and hoping to bring his cousin to his senses, he tries to mitigate and says, “Listen to me, Linc. There is no such thing. The Society is just a story that college kids talk about in dark corners of libraries or drunk at frat parties, trying to add some excitement to campus life. Nothing more, nothing less.”