Page 19 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
My palms begin to sweat, my chest tightens up, my heart pounds.
That money was my future. And just like that, in an instant, my future is gone.
Sure, I still have money in my bank account, but most of it, most of my life savings, I kept here. “Kept”: past tense. Damn it.
All that’s left here is my notebook—one of those composition books I use for school. The notebook functions as a ledger, where I meticulously log in the cash that gets deposited here and the cash I take out.
I look at the latest total: $10,850.
How am I missing $10,850?!
Now I know the way I got that money wasn’t necessarily the most honorable way. And I know that if this is some kind of cosmic punishment then it’s probably justified. But I’m still shook to the core.
When was the money taken? I haven’t opened the floorboard in about a week, so it could’ve been days ago. It could’ve been sometime tonight.
Okay. Think, think, think.
Did thieves break in here? I run all around the house, room to room: Nash’s, my parents’, the bathrooms, the living room, the kitchen. All seems normal. The house hasn’t been ransacked.
But if random thieves did rob me, how did they know where I kept my secret stash of cash? And what else do they know? Do they know that I’m a pervert? That I record my brother without his knowledge? That I upload his videos to a porn site?
Think, think, think.
What if my parents knew about this money all along? What if they’re blowing it all in Las Vegas right now?
Think, think, think.
What if the person who took my moneyismy brother? Is that possible? Is that what he was texting and calling me about?
I hear knocking coming from the front door downstairs. It must be Oscar. He’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
I open up my laptop. All the hidden camera footage from my brother’s room gets transmitted to the cloud, on a service that’s expensive but super secure. I start reviewing the footage from today, to see if any of it might explain what happened.
There’s me, coming into Nash’s room in the morning, playing in his underwear drawer, jerking off on his bed. There’s Nash and Alessandra having sex. There’s them leaving.
I carefully examine what happens next. The timestamp is several hours later, around the same time that my brother tried to contact me today.
Oscar’s knocking turns into really loud banging.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
I ignore the door and watch and listen to the footage.
And when I finish watching everything that happened in my brother’s room, when all is said and done, I throw my hands over my mouth. I jump out of my chair and run to the restroom as quickly as I can. I throw up in the toilet.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
I shuffle away and lean back against the wall.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
I can’t predict the future, but for some reason I know from this point forward in my life, my relatively short life, things will never be the same again.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
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