"The visionary lies to himself, the liar only to others."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Six

Knock, knock, knock

He wasn't sure if it was the dream he had, or the sudden banging he heard, but for the first time in years, Will was startled from sleep. It wasn't a feeling he liked, which was why he avoided horror movies and all things designed to make a person jump. He wasn't afraid of them, nor did they give him nightmares; it was just that momentary feeling that he despised. To him, it signified a loss of control, and Will always had to be in control.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

The banging was coming from his bedroom door. Maybe because he was dead asleep the first time, but this set of knocking seemed more urgent.

"Hold on!" Will shouted, hoping it was loud enough to quell whoever was at his door. A glance over at the clock showed that it was 7:14. His roommates wouldn't be stupid enough to wake him up this early, nor would most of them even be awake to do so. Something was up, he deduced.

Will got up from bed and walked over to the window, throwing open the curtain to let some light in. He felt a sensation of déjà vu, seeing that it was almost as foggy outside as it was in his dream, a dream that was vivid enough to where he felt like it actually happened.

Looking down at himself, he was comfortable answering whomever it was wearing blue and white pajama pants and a plain gray t-shirt. He began down the stairs to his door and unlocked it, cracking it open to see his roommate John. The fact that John was awake was equally concerning.

"Do you just, not sleep at all anymore?" Will inquired.

"I got a solid three hours in," John replied, looking over his shoulder for a second before turning back to Will, "something's up. The cops are here."

A wave of emotions hit Will like a cold slap in the face. Were they here for him? Had another of his roommates done something stupid? Did they know he had enough supply of Pure that could make the entire campus trip for a week? No, they couldn't, Will thought to himself. If they knew that, it would be police barging into his room rather than him receiving polite knocks.

He nodded to appease John, who was still standing there waiting for him to respond. "Okay, what do they want?"

"Another student was found dead. Just a couple of blocks east." John matter-of-factly stated, pointing east with his index finger. John softened his expression for a moment and looked over his shoulder again. "They want to talk to all of us. Apparently he was here Saturday night."

"You mean last night? It wasn't that long ago, maybe a few hours after everyone left." Will stated, scratching the stubble under his chin.

"Dude, you know it's Monday, right?" John inquired with a smirk.

"Right…" Will started, offering a light slap to his own forehead. He decided to put off worrying about the fact that he seemingly lost a whole day, and focus on the guests that arrived this morning. Will walked down the last few steps to exit his room. He thought about locking it, but didn't have his key, and thought it might look suspicious if the cops wanted to look around. Will was taught from an early age to appear cooperative, but not too eager to help.

"Anyone we knew?" Will asked while closing the door. "The guy who died, I mean."

"Name didn't sound familiar. Andrew something." John said as they both started walking to the staircase, "Oh, and Rory's home, too. Got in about ten minutes ago."

"Awesome." Will said with a sigh as they rounded the corner to reach the main landing. He could see his three other roommates, Curt, Teddy and Rory all talking to a middle-aged man wearing a gray overcoat. Will guessed that he was a detective who chose that career after watching a lot of movies from the 1940's. He was busy writing down what Rory was telling him, and Will was sure that Rory had a lot to say. Rory was Will's least favorite housemate, athletic enough to go to Clearview on a soccer scholarship, which he liked to remind everyone of constantly. Whenever there was something with a hint of illegality, Rory would hold up his hands and remind everyone that he can't lose his scholarship. He was, however, something of a chick magnet, and had a sterling reputation around campus as being 'a good guy'. It did help to keep some of the campus' authority off of their backs about some of the activities that allegedly went on in their house.

John and Will hadn't even made it halfway down the steps when Rory caught a glimpse of them. Will could see a hint of a scowl as Rory looked at him. Rory had a way of trying to look intense when he meant business. It worked for the rest of the housemates, but Will just thought he looked constipated, which he also mentioned to Rory previously. Because of this, they were the two in the house who were constantly at odds.

Rory turned and motioned at Will, dropping his maroon Clearview University duffel bag on the floor in the process. The detective, Curt and Teddy all turned to where he was pointing.

"Ask him," Rory stated, "if anything goes on here it's usually his doing. I was gone all weekend for the game against Meridian."

He threw his hands up and shrugged for grand effect as he cleaned his hands of any knowledge or wrongdoing. And if he could throw Will under the bus while doing so, it was probably a win-win situation. Will gave Rory a quick grin before turning his attention to the detective, who flipped a page on his note pad. Teddy and Curt backed away, looking around for any excuse to remove themselves from the situation. John joined them to the side, and for the first time, Will noticed that there was a uniformed police officer looking around while another stood at the front door.

"Sure," Will began as he stopped in front of the detective and Rory, "I don't mind being asked anything, officer…"

"Rutledge," the detective answered while producing his badge and ID, "detective Rutledge, Willamette P.D."

"William Carroll, nice to meet you." Will responded and extended his hand. Detective Rutledge shook his hand with some vigor and offered a polite smile.

"Nice to meet you too, William. Or do you go by Billy, Will…"

"Will, thank you." Will responded curtly. "My roommate let me know what happened and why you're here. I don't know how much help I can be; despite what Rory might have you believe."

Will turned his attention to direct the last few words at Rory, who crossed his arms in front of his chest. The detective looked between Rory and Will before clearing his throat and settling his glare on Will.

"Well, as you can imagine, the deaths of two students in three days is alarming anywhere, let alone a small town." Rutledge stated while taking a quick look around the place. There were still a few telltale signs of the festivities from Saturday night, mostly in the form of empty beer and liquor bottles on the portable bar down the hall. "Do you mind if we talk somewhere? I just have a few questions."

"I understand," Will responded with a head nod, turning towards the kitchen, "and I don't know about you, but I'm not a morning person. Coffee?"

"Sounds good!" The detective exclaimed with some vigor and followed Will to the kitchen. Will didn't know if he was nervous or hungry, but there was a pit forming in his stomach. He probably should be nervous, especially if this Andrew kid had overdosed on Pure. Even though he hadn't known anyone who overdosed, he knew that it was possible if someone took enough. Still though, he reminded himself to be a gracious host, be helpful, but not look too eager like he's injecting himself in the investigation. He didn't kill the kid, but if this was Pure related, all roads would eventually lead back to him.

The objective now, however, was coffee. There was no point in making himself worry, he thought. It would definitely look suspicious if he started sweating before the detective even asked a question. Will walked to the coffee maker and pulled open a small drawer which held some small cups. They had one of those newer coffee makers which required minimal effort.

"You want Colombian Roast of Hazelnut?" Will asked the detective as he glanced over his shoulder.

"Whichever one actually tastes like coffee." Rutledge remarked, taking a seat at the table in the center of the kitchen.

"Colombian Roast it is," Will replied, grabbing the specific cup and turning on the machine. He loaded the cup in and pressed one of the buttons, "hell of a thing, huh? First Nicole Baldwin, now this other kid…"

"Andrew Gill," Rutledge responded, resting his notepad on the table in front of him, "did you know him?"

Will turned around and leaned against the counter. He shook his head a few times. "No. At least, I don't think so. I'm sure you've already been told that we had a party here Saturday night, or you may have known from past instances."

"Yeah, this address has come up a few times for noise complaints. Nothing beyond that I don't think. It's more I can say for the fraternities." Rutledge stated. He leaned forward in his seat, placing the tip of his pen on the notepad while keeping his eyes trained on Will. "How about Nicole Baldwin? Did you know her?"

"To be honest," Will began, taking a quick glance at the coffee maker, "she looked a little familiar when I saw the picture on the news. It's not a big school, though."

"Maybe you remember her from one of your parties," Rutledge offered, "would have had to have been recently though. She was a freshman, just eighteen, you know."

Will looked back at the detective. He didn't need to hear Rutledge come out and say it to know the insinuation. There were empties in plain sight when they got here, which wouldn't have been lying around if he knew that there would be police in the house when he woke up. Will decided to attack this head on though with a smirk. He put a mug underneath the spot where the coffee would pour out in a just a few moments.

"It's true that we don't typically card at the door," Will replied, watching as the mug began to fill, "however, there are strict house rules which prevent incidents. You said it yourself, a couple of noise complaints is our worst offense."

When the coffee stopped pouring, Will took the mug over to the detective, who took it and nodded his thanks with a smile. Rutledge took three sugar packets from their stand on the table and began to pour them into the cup one by one. Will placed a spoon on the table for him and loaded up the hazelnut cup in the machine for himself.

"House rules huh? Care to share?" Rutledge asked before sipping his coffee.

"No drugs, first and foremost, of any kind." Will responded. "Also no fighting. We've had some housekeeping issues with that in the past."

Will motioned to the wall over the detective's right shoulder, which prompted Rutledge to look at the sizeable dent.

"You know those sticks that make rain sounds when you turn them over?" Will asked, as if reading the detective's mind. "Apparently it's just a bunch of tiny pebbles. Still to do this day, no idea who brought it."

Will's comments drew some chuckles from Rutledge. The coffee was ready, so Will brought his mug over and joined Rutledge at the table. He took a small sip.

"No drugs though?" Rutledge asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not even a little weed? Or those pills which have become all the rage in the past two years, you know the ones I'm talking about, right?"

Will nodded, thinking about the thousands of dollars' worth he had just two floors above them. "Pure, detective. But you already knew that, right?"

"Of course I did, I just wanted to see if you did." Rutledge replied, taking another sip of coffee.

"You don't have to take them to know what they are and what they're called." Will stated, leaning back in his seat and taking a quick look over Rutledge's shoulder. It looked like Rory was scolding Curt in the background. Some days Will wished that Curt would just reel back and knock Rory's block off. He was big and strong enough to do so, but was too nice, despite how boisterous he was. "Word around campus is that even some of the faculty is hooked on it. I'm sure you've had your share of run-ins around Willamette, sir."

Rutledge appeared to leer at Will for what probably a few seconds, but seemed like a good minute. He finally leaned back with a sigh.

"You wouldn't believe how many busts I've made that involved the stuff. You ever seen someone strung out on it before?" Rutledge asked.

Will shook his head and took another sip of his coffee. It was the truth, that he hadn't seen anyone take too much. He did what he needed to do to survive, and that was stick in the shadows. He never put himself in position to be around people who were using it, and didn't care to ever do so. The one thing he did do was make it clear to Jeff and Narciso that they only give out two pills maximum per customer, because of its potency. It may have been risky for him to place trust in what were essentially drug dealers, but from what he knew of Pure, nobody had overdosed.

"Not a pretty sight," the detective continued, slowly shaking his head, "we found this one guy; he'd taken so much that we found him dead, with blood pouring out of his eyes."

At that moment, Will knew that he could breathe easy, but he didn't want to show it. The detective has probably never seen someone overdose from Pure, or maybe he did and understood that it wasn't anything outwardly gruesome. Either way, Rutledge was lying about the after effects and Will may have been the only person around that knew it for a fact. He felt that the detective had nothing tangible at this point, and was just trying to trip someone up in case they knew anything. Will put on his best disgusted face, to at least attempt to make it look like he believed the detective.

"Man," Will said, shaking his head and swallowing hard, "that's horrible. I'm glad I stay away from the stuff."

Will rose to his feet, taking his coffee cup with him. He took a quick sip, and placed the cup on the counter.

"Knowing that, I'll be more vigilant about the comings and goings in here. We both know that with the people who come and go around here, that there may be a little underage drinking going on, and I can appreciate that you don't give us a harder time about it. I'm already treading a fine line, that Pure shit…not the kind of attention I need."
He didn't know if his little speech was completely bought by Rutledge, who kept a steady eye on him the entire time he spoke, only broken up by sips of coffee. It sounded good in Will's mind at least; he was pretty sure that he didn't stammer and sold it well. There was a stretch of silence between the two, and Will was pretty sure that the detective was sizing him up. Judging by how old he looked, he'd probably heard his fair share of bull shit. Finally, Rutledge cleared his throat and rose from his seat, taking his coffee mug with him. He made his way over to Will and placed the now empty cup on the counter.

"Yeah, I understand the sentiment," the detective began, before looking Will square in the eye, "but to be honest, Pure isn't the real reason I'm here. Andrew Gill was found dead, with his right hand dismembered and a hole the size of a golf ball that we're pretty sure wasn't caused by drugs. I'm here, because Andrew's roommate said that he was at your house Saturday night, and that was the last time he'd seen him."

Will nodded his head slowly, relieved that this visit had less to do with the illegal contraband he'd been storing, but there was still the matter of a dead student, who apparently went missing from this house after Saturday night. He was pretty sure that the detective may have been trying to intimidate him a little bit, maybe to keep pressure in that Will might slip up with something. It sounded like Andrew Gill was murdered, which was something he definitely didn't have anything to do with, so there was nothing for him to feel guilty about.

"However, preliminary reports say that he died sometime late Sunday night, maybe about six to eight hours ago. Plus, he was found at the edge of town, almost ten miles away from here. The fact that he was last seen here is a little concerning, and does put a spotlight on yourself, your roommates and your house guests, and I'm guessing that you can't provide a formal guest list."

"You'd be accurate to say that." Will responded with another nod. The detective reached inside his coat pocket and procured a business card, thrusting it into Will's hand before he could even react.

"Just do me a favor; talk amongst your roommates, see what you can piece together about Saturday night. I know I'm not doing you any favors coming by so early in the morning, but this some serious shit. I'm not going to let Willamette or Clearview University get the kind of reputations that can destroy what life means for future generations. I hope we understand each other."

"Yes sir, we do," Will replies, "if you need anything else after today, you know where to find me."

"Yeah I do." Rutledge responds, offer an outstretched hand, which Will shakes. "I'll be in touch. Thanks for the coffee, I'll see myself out."

Will nodded again, watching as the detective left. He didn't know why he offered to keep himself available for any follow up questioning. He wished that he didn't, even though they would follow up whenever they felt like it anyway, but he felt as though he had already forgotten one of those rules he told himself about. Don't interject yourself into the investigation, he scolded himself silently. It caught him off guard to hear Rutledge's voice, as he hadn't been paying attention to notice that the detective had stopped in the archway between the kitchen and the main living area.

"Oh, one more thing," Rutledge added while looking around, "that kid Rory told me that you pay the majority of the rent here; you a rich kid or something?"

"My family," Will started, heading towards the detective's direction, "comes from what you could call, old money. I don't like to flaunt it, but I like to keep myself comfortable."

"Old money, huh?" Rutledge asks. "Where are you from anyway, kid?"
"It's a small town in the northeast named Silent Hill. Doubt you've heard of it."