CHAPTER ELEVEN

DEONTOLOGY

( — ethics, especially that branch dealing with duty, moral obligation, and right action. )

— ♡ —

          SOMETHING IN THE AIR INSIDE THE CAFETERIA SHIFTS. It seems to become heavier, making breathing a lot harder than it usually is and certainly a lot more than what it needs to be, even though Rhiannon knows the list technically shouldn't be causing this strong of a reaction.

          All these people knew what they were signing up for, including her, so what were they expecting? Didn't they want to make it through the next and final stage of the experiment?

          Frankly, Matteo seems to be making this into something similar to the end of the world, wanting to turn a coincidence into something purposeful, as if these people had anything in common; granted, some of them might be roommates, friends or even more than that (take Rhiannon and Jude, for example, and, perhaps, Gabriella and Hailey), but other than those factors, there aren't any reasons why they were purposely forced to be in the experiment together.

          Yes, some might argue no one is forcing them to do anything, which is true, but Rhiannon seriously doubts anyone will quit. If they wanted to ditch the experiment, they would have already let Beatrice and Frances know, unless an emergency comes up, or something. She's not in that situation, and she's determined to go forward with it until the end of the experiment.

          She can almost taste the sweet flavor of being in control of her own life once and, if being a part of Project Oxygen is the way to do it, then so be it. It's time to prove once and for all to all these people and, especially, to herself she can handle seemingly difficult things—those they think she cannot possibly deal with because she's too much of a wimp.

          "Who's on that list?" Sutton questions, and he reaches out an arm across the table to hand her his phone, which he might have used to take a photo of said list, as the place must have been too crowded for him. Sutton's eyes scan the list as she knits her brows together, and Rhiannon's heart rate races in anticipation, wondering who might have joined them as well. "Well. There aren't as many of us as I thought there would be."

          "Can I see?" Rhiannon asks and Sutton nods, sliding the phone towards her, while Matteo whimpers, as the device might get scratched. Like Matteo said, they're all there—Rhiannon herself, Jude, Matteo, Zelda, Gabriella, Hailey, Sutton and Laura—along with people whose names she knows, like Brooklyn Bach and Roman Cooke (he said it himself . . .), but there's one final name she doesn't recognize. "Who's Dimitri Bonheur?"

          "I have no idea," Matteo retorts, yanking the phone from her hands, "but, if you ask me, there are several red flags around this. Don't you think it's too big of a coincidence that all of us know each other in one way or another? Don't you think this sample is minuscule and they certainly will not be able to generalize whatever results they find, meaning this study is pretty much pointless?" He narrows his eyes to the point they're mere slits. "There's something really shady about this, guys, not to mention Roman's family is involved in the experiment, along with the Duncans. Do you seriously want me to think there aren't any hidden motives behind his name being on this damn list?"

          "I think you're reading too much into this," Isla says, arms crossed so firmly in front of her chest Rhiannon doubts she'll ever be able to relax her muscles. Though she might be tiny, Isla is certainly a force to be reckoned with, but Matteo doesn't seem to be fazed—he has never been, truthfully, and this is one of the very few times Rhiannon has witnessed him lose his cool. "Maybe it's not as deep as you think it is."

          "Yes, Isla, and what do you know?" he snaps, and she merely quirks an eyebrow. If anything, they've always given each other a run for their money, managing to hold their ground during arguments or even when someone merely raises their voice at them. "I didn't know you had signed up for this thing."

          "Suddenly I'm not allowed to have an opinion because it goes against yours? I didn't realize I had to be part of this damn experiment to remind you of how absurd it is and of how all you must have been out of your minds when you chose to sign up for it!"

          "You're missing the point, Isla," Matteo insists, though his voice is a lot less cold now. "What I'm trying to say is, maybe this is just a coincidence, maybe it isn't, but there are so many variables proving the coincidence theory wrong that you can't possibly blame me for being on the edge—"

          "And what I'm trying to say is that I think you're wrong and I'm just going to leave you in your world of delusion where everyone and everything in this university is against you, including an experiment you know everything about—at least everything you should know about." Isla calmly stands up from her seat, while Jude whistles under his breath, visibly impressed, and Laura discreetly claps, not making any noise. "If you need me, I'll be in my room, trying to find a way of not screwing up my Algebra test on Tuesday morning, yes? Toodles."

          Once she leaves and everyone tries to get their pulses and breathing rhythms back to regular levels, Rhiannon can't help but hope no one noticed the instant stiffening of her shoulders or how she wrapped an arm around herself as soon as the Duncans were mentioned. Jude must have, considering he's sitting next to her and his own arm is still set over the back of her chair, but he gives off no indicators as to such.

          It's never going to end, is it?

          She wants to believe these are good people, truly, especially Roman, but there was also a period of time in her life when she thought Connor could be trusted; even if he had never given anyone enough proof for it to be considered an official, shared belief, he still was, somehow, charming and charismatic enough to lure her right into his trap like a venomous spider.

          She fell for it like a disorientated bug.

          Roman (or, at the very least, his family) has something to do with them, as they're helping finance the experiment, but he told Rhiannon and the girls both Beatrice and Frances had orders to not choose him to participate over it, which sounds fair enough; the problem is that people do stupid, bad things over money and she can't even begin to imagine just how much of it is involved in this. At the end of the day, that's what it all comes down to.

          "All those in favor of voting on Isla for the next chancellor?" Laura eventually asks, and everyone raises a hand, ones hesitating more than others. Even Matteo does it, even though Rhiannon knows it pains him greatly to do so. "Yeah, I thought so too. I just hope she eventually learns to accept other opinions at some point."

— ♡ —

          A FEW DAYS LATER, RHIANNON REALIZES JUST HOW SERIOUS THINGS HAVE BECOME. All the participants (she's surprised that no one has given up, as she really thought Matteo would be the first do to so, especially considering how against it all he has suddenly become) were summoned to what's possibly the smallest office in all of Crowcrest, without any windows, to be formally introduced to the experiments as such instead of knowing them simply as professors.

          Jude frequently glances at the door, switching his weight from one leg to the other, and a thin layer of sweat covers his forehead and the side of his neck. As claustrophobic as he is, this is one of the last places where he wants to be, but, funnily enough, familiar cars and other vehicles are typically fine.

          Rhiannon remembers when they were younger and he had to get that MRI. It took almost an hour of convincing him to do it, but he made sure to remind everyone he'd be complaining mentally throughout the whole process.

          The first thing Rhiannon acknowledges about Frances McCall is how stupidly young he looks, being seemingly too young to be a professor, with his golden skin glowing under the faint lights in the office and dark stubble, the same shade of brown as his tousled hair. He's the type of person she'd see walking down a runway, not slumped over papers and teaching college students.

          Nevertheless, she can see why Laura likes him so much. With a deep, soothing voice, he makes all of them feel more at ease, even Jude, and immediately lets them know he'll try to answer any questions they might have about the experiment. Though no one says anything, they explain what the project is about—diffusion of responsibility, bystander effect, yadda, yadda (Rhiannon yawns, while Matteo shoots Frances a discreet glare)—and they drink every single one of the professors' words (Zelda scribbles furiously on the notebook she brought along with her).

          It's also when she finds out who Dimitri is.

          Granted, she only figures it out because Hailey whispers it to her, mid-explanation, but she does. With brown skin, a buzz-cut and a septum piercing reflecting the lights above their heads, Dimitri Bonheur has an awful tendency to show up late to every event he's invited to, ironically contradicting the meaning of his last name, and was dating Taylor Morris until the night of her disappearance.

          Those are the exact words Hailey uses: 'used to be dating'. It's almost as if they were all assuming the girl died, ignoring how Brooklyn is standing right next to them and fails to mask how uncomfortable she is, lips pressed together in a thin line; nevertheless, finding that out only reveals the last connecting link between all these people. All of them know something about Taylor Morris, no matter how small it might be.

          It's like they're being trained as soldiers, as if the police couldn't do their job just fine without random college students meddling in their investigation.

          Even though Rhiannon doesn't want to get too involved, as her parents would instantly find out and give her hell for endangering herself (not that they care about her safety, no; they're only worried about how her actions might affect their prized reputation, especially now that they've only started to polish it again) and it could potentially be dangerous, she knows she has to do something with the investigation she might gather.

          Telling the police would be the first order of business, but Beatrice and Frances make them sign a confidentiality contract, meaning everything they do must stay between the fictional walls of the experiment. Her pen glides across the paper, signing her name in black ink, and her heart jumps in anticipation as soon as she realizes there's someone she can talk to—someone who's not formally involved with the investigation, but still has to know something about it.

          Rhiannon bolts out of the office as soon as they're allowed to, leaving Jude and Matteo behind, and nearly freezes to death with the first step she takes outside the building. It has been snowing all day, much like it did throughout the night (complete with a thunderstorm, even), and she can barely see where she places her feet, meaning she's bound to slip and fall at any given moment.

          Today must be her lucky day. She sees him, looking almost as lost as she does, but there's a certain degree of confidence in his movements she'd never be able to mimic.

          "Rowan!" she dares to call, with her throat drying up as soon as she does it. When he turns around, easily distinguishable in the middle of all the snow (and the trail of footsteps he has left behind, thanks to his combat boots). The chilly wind blows his hair back, with small snowflakes getting caught in the dark strands.

          "You're talking to me?" he asks, and she simply nods, leaning a shoulder against the brick wall next to her. She's slowly turning into an iceberg and not even the heavy weight of her coat or having her arms crossed in front of her chest manage to do anything to help her. "Am I supposed to walk over there?"

          She stays as quiet as a mouse. What else is she supposed to tell him? She's not like Isla or Jude, able to make small-talk with anyone at any given moment just to make them feel at ease. Nevertheless, Rowan huffs (or, at least, she thinks he does, given the considerable distance between them) before crossing the pathway, making his way towards her.

          "Hi," she murmurs, shoving her hands into her pockets, but she still cannot feel a single inch of her fingers. "I have something you might need for your book."

          He knits his brows together. "How come?"

          "Have you heard about the Social Psychology experiment two of our professors are conducting?" Rowan slowly nods, still on his toes, but it doesn't shock her. If their roles were reversed, she'd also be wondering whether she could trust him or not, but she's not interested in taking this any further than having both of them help each other, as it will also help Isla. "I'm part of it."

          "My book isn't about that thing."

          She wrinkles her nose, as he's just as hard to talk to as Isla had mentioned. "I'm aware. I know you're writing about the urban legends, the lore, the tales, whatever you want to call it, because that's one of Gabriel's favorite things. I get it." His posture softens a bit, and Rhiannon knows she has finally caught his attention. It wasn't nearly as hard as she thought it would be. "I'm technically not allowed to tell you anything about what happens there, and, if this gets out or if anyone finds out you knew this through me, I'll be getting in serious trouble."

          "Fine, fine." He sighs. "What's in it for me, then?"

          "I think I know how they chose the participants and why." She takes in a sharp breath. "I think they want us to figure out what happened to Taylor Morris because they believe we know something the police don't."