That's the only word I could use to describe how it felt to go back to Layla's room.

Less than three hours ago, we'd been kidnapped and bound there while she threw shit at people. She was very much alive, and now she was dead, and we were about to invade her innermost secrets and soul.

I didn't know how to feel really. Sadness was one of the emotions I felt because I'd known that she was disturbed, but not from her own accord.

I clicked on the light, seeing that most of the room had succumbed to fire damage. Deep scorch marks marred some of the furniture while others were saturated in thick foam.

My hand shielded my face from the rancid, ashy odor. "Are we even going to find anything in this mess?"

Walking in first, still cradling Duke to his chest, Khan squinted his eyes, walking to each corner. "Probably not. But we can at least try." He moved toward a black pile on the floor and used his foot to smush over some burnt material.

My eyes scanned the black walls and flooring, pausing when I came to a pile near the far left. It looked like there used to be an altar there. Half-burnt candles soaked in white bubbles littered the floor. A grotesque odor radiated intensely from this area.

Droopy white writing caked the wall. Broken stone statues sat on top of an ashy cloth that covered books.

Trifling through the books, I saw all sorts of handmade bibles. Bibles crammed with dark highlights and notes in the margins. Most of the writing was ineligible and looked like a three-year-old did it. Pages were ripped and smeared with shit. It was a total mess.

My fingers picked up one of the bibles, trying not to touch the shit on it, the smell making me nauseous. So nauseous that I dropped the book, knocking over the stack of bibles, causing one of them to spread open.

Inside, the pages were neatly cut out into a box shape, which housed a smaller booklet inside of it.

Opening it, Layla's handwriting caught my eye. It didn't read like the bibles I found. This book seemed more personal like it was her own personal diary or journal. Doing a quick scan, I saw that she mostly talked about her day.

I closed it and kept it close, thinking it might be of some use. Maybe, it would tell me something important? Maybe someone was stalking her? Or maybe she had an altercation with another contestant that I didn't know about.

"I found her journal," I said, walking over to Khan who was holding a large textbook in one hand.

"I found some chem books," he said, tossing the book back on the floor when Duke shifted sleepily in his arm, and he had to readjust himself or the doggy would fall.

He put a more protective arm around Duke, holding him close to his collarbone and neck this time.

"Aww," I said to myself, smiling at the perfect scene.

Khan tickled the doggy's chin before glancing at me, a warm smile hugging his lips.

My cheeks got wider for a moment, smile spreading until I realized I probably looked like an idiot. So I quickly let out an exaggerated, harsh cough and looked away. "Umm-um do you think that's how she made the knockout gas?" I asked, trying to cover my awkwardness.

"Probably," he said, looking down at the textbook. He moved his foot toward another thick book on the floor. "I think that might be a photo album."

"Let me see," I said, shifting the journal under my armpit so that I could pick up the photo album. It was indeed filled with pictures.

Pictures of Layla. Her smiling and laughing. She looked so innocent and normal. Near the middle, an image of an older man stared back at me. It must be her creepy daddy.

On the outside, he didn't actually look like a creep. He actually looked like a normal person with graying hair, crinkly blue eyes and a warm smile.

But since I had a similar darkness within me, I could easily see it in his eyes, even through it was only a picture. All that evil, fake shit he instilled in Layla, I could see it cloaking him like a second skin.

The average person wouldn't be able to see it though. If they didn't have something similar within themselves, they'd never notice it. They'd see a nice older gentleman, not some evil man smiling with his daughters.

That's what made my skin crawl.

Someone who could hide evilness like that — so perfectly and casually was someone who needed to be executed.

The eyes were truly the window to the soul. That's what the average person didn't realize. Looking into someone's eyes could reveal a lot about them. But not everyone.

Some people really could hide it, even their eyes didn't expose their true intentions, like my mother. Like me. People like that scared me.

Coughing, I turned the page, wanting the goosebumps to leave my body. "You think Lily's in here," I said, feeling him standing close behind me.

His warm breath brushed my neck, making the curl on my neck dance to its own rhythm. Eyes sliding shut for a second, I shuddered, heart pounding, tingly sensations shifting through my chest. Stop overreacting, Betinia! It's nothing. Really.

"That might be her," he said, pointing to a female figure that had her face blacked out. "Layla had unresolved issues with her sister, so she might've blacked her out in one of her rage episodes."

"Maybe," I whispered, taking the photo of Layla, Layla's daddy, and her maybe sister and putting it in the journal that I had.

I circled the room again, coming to the side wall. It was scorched to the bones, revealing the innards. My eyes looked upward, seeing tiny speakers glued to the wooden beams. I touched one of the burned speakers, getting a sinister feeling in my stomach. "Khan, look at his."

He came over and touched one of the speakers. "It's a speaker."

"I know that, but does it give you a bad feeling?"

"Not really," he said.

"Why would they be there?" I asked. "This place is already filled with large speakers. That's how we hear Jookie's announcements. So what are those for?"

"I don't know," Khan said, touching them again. "Maybe Layla installed them herself? Or maybe the creators of the game put them in everyone's walls for better announcement quality?" He stepped back from the wall. "I don't think they're anything to worry about."

"You don't think they pertain to Layla's death?"

"No." Khan spiraled around the room, glancing at everything. "I don't think we're going to find anything else important here actually," he said. "Everything's too burned or ruined to look through. It could take days to fully examine everything and we don't got the time."

I sighed. "We basically came here for nothing," I said, fingering the journal. The journal was all I had left. Hopefully, it led to something.

We left a couple of minutes later, making our way back to my room. Right when we were about to turn the corner, I saw Fee stomping down the hall, carrying a black bag.

His sudden presence struck a chord within me, giving me a strange revelation. "I don't remember seeing Fee in the room with us," I said, "when we found Layla's body."

Khan tilted his head, eyes swarming. "No. He wasn't."

"Should we follow him?" I whispered, peeking around the corner.

Fee was still on the move, and when Khan nodded, we were right behind him. Sort of.

Following someone was harder than it looked, especially in a quiet place. It took lots of concentration and feet coordination for me anyway to make sure my shoes didn't squeak on the hardwood floors.

Khan had this stealth shit down, moving without noise or even fear. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing. He was just blank-faced and focused, inching forward like a ghost clutching a sleeping dog.

Fee weaved his way through the hallways, still carrying his suspicious bag. A weird ammonia smell with a hint of sweetness wafted the air around him. We stayed a few feet behind and watched as he pushed through the kitchen door.

Pausing outside, we stayed still for a minute or two, waiting. Another three minutes passed before he barreled back out, no bag this time.

But that wasn't what caught my eye. The thick sludgy dirt and red liquid that coated his fingers, arms and chin did.

Khan and I stared at each other for a second, sharing a look of suspicion and disbelief. Was that blood and dirt on him?

When he was out of sight, I booked it to the kitchen, searching for the bag, but he already put it down the trash chute.

"What do you think that was?" I asked, placing my hands on the counter.

"He looked like he was covered in blood and dirt," Khan said, stroking the sleeping doggy. "It could've also been shit on him. It was kind of slushy looking."

I shook my head. "No. It couldn't be this easy. Fee wouldn't be that stupid to walk around like that after murdering someone."

"He might not even know that we know that she's dead yet," Khan said. "He wasn't there when Jookie made his announcement."

"Still, I don't know." My hands scratched at my head, dirt plundering from my body. I stared down at the brown clumps on the floor.

Could he just be like me? Just covered in dirt from something else, but that looked like shit on him. Not normal dirt.

Why would he be covered in shit? And blood?

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