The Forum by Marie Reyes (short books for teens .txt) 📕

This could be huge." The sight of the dilapidated building got his pulse racing. He considered himself an adrenaline junkie, but this had taken his hobby to the next level. He'd watched the video, witnessed the horrors that had taken place here, and was terrified at what he might find. His stomach churned. If he remembered right, it was easy to get in around the back where large sections of the wall had crumbled away. The place looked like someone had started demolishing it but gave up halfway through, leaving the building in some sort of limbo, turning it into a place only the foolish would go.

He braced himself for anything. Usually, homeless people and meth addicts were his concern, but today was different. Despite being freaked out, he was also excited. Excited at the prospect of finding a body. What kind of fucked up person gets excited about that? Him. He tried to dismiss the guilt by convincing himself that he was doing this for the greater good, but he knew full well, he thrived on drama. He wanted his life to be like a film. To push out the dull and mundane with anything he could find to distract himself.

If there was a body there, surely it would have been found already, by a squatter, or another urbexer. Maybe he was using this logic to comfort himself. He liked the excitement of it all, but the reality would likely be different. If he did find something, would it scar him? Haunt his dreams?

He turned the corner and Damon stuck close with his camera, filming everything for their online channel. If they did find something, it could propel him into viral stardom. He stepped over a couple of discarded needles and they came to a dilapidated section of wall. He couldn't see anything particularly concerning as he scanned the area. Just trash, rubble, beer bottles, and more used needles. He was careful where to tread. Having a needle puncture his foot through his canvas shoes was the last thing he wanted.

"So, we're here. The location of the horrific video. Maybe the first people here since it happened." He spoke into the camera, putting on a brave veneer.

Broken glass and stones crunched underfoot as the sound of water running down from a hole in the roof murmured in the background. The wall with the graffiti was located at the other end, and he walked slowly in that direction. The place smelled dank and faintly of piss. Moss flourished in the damp environment, covering parts of the floor in patches of green, making it look almost beautiful where nature had reclaimed the gray concrete and weeds poked through the cracks in the ground.

Their footsteps echoed, bouncing off the concrete walls. It was probably his imagination, but he had that feeling, like he was being watched. "We're nearing the exact spot where it happened. You can feel it in the air. It feels thick." When he found a gap in the partition wall, he saw it. "Shit."

He stood there, petrified. The whole sorry scene was far enough away that he could turn back at any moment. He didn't have to get closer, but he did anyway. He didn't even want to, but he felt like he had to, for the views. It only took two more steps to disturb the flies that hung around the body, feeding off the decay. It only took three steps for the smell of death to hit. When he held his nose, it didn't help. He inhaled the putrid particles into his lungs instead. He coughed, retching, but not quite vomiting. Damon ran in the opposite direction, with the camera.

Even though no one was filming, he still didn't turn back. The flies moved with a synchronization that reminded him of the flocks of starlings that flew above his house in the evenings, making shapes and patterns in the sky. A murmuration, except, in this instance, it wasn't beautiful. He couldn't take his eyes off it, but it wasn't beautiful.

 

Chapter Ten

LONDON

 

"Shit," Aadesh muttered to himself. Jon sent him a link. He saw the YouTube video first, then the news article. This couldn't be real, surely. He felt like a protagonist in a film, and he could almost hear the soundtrack playing in the background. It was the same feeling he would get when he was on stage. A rush. A surge of adrenaline. They had even already identified the victim. He pulled up the photograph of her from the article. It was weird seeing her smiling and happy. Bryony Finch. She had a look of hopeful innocence. It was even more real now. Now he knew who both victims were, it might be possible to find a link between them.

Dammit, her profile was set to private. He typed her name into a search engine instead. Most of the top search results were about the murder, unsurprisingly. It wasn't until the second page that something caught his eye. www.flirtmatchmeet.com/115531/profilebryonyfinch

On her dating profile, was a large photograph of her with a fishbowl full of bright blue liquid, fruit, and straws, her beaming smile, brimming with life. He read her bio. Apparently, Bryony Finch enjoyed hiking, movies, and animals. It was impossible to glean much from a short description and one photo. All the profiles seemed to blend into one. Michelle Baker, event planner, looking for Mr Right. Likes partying, vacations, and computer games. Who doesn't?

Aadesh wondered if the murderer found Bryony on this website. After 30 seconds of contemplation, he downloaded the app onto his phone. It couldn't hurt, right? He briefly thought he was losing his mind as he tried to find a picture to set up a profile. If he was going to lure the killer in, he needed the right photograph. This wasn't right, he knew it wasn't, but couldn't stop himself. At first, he looked at stock photos. Too