Something about this felt off. Trusting my instincts, I pulled out my camera and snapped a few photos of the evidence on Abel's desk.
What was Abel doing with pictures of me? Confused, I picked up my photo to examine it more closely. On the back, scrawled in messy handwriting, was a word: Pending.
As I sifted through the pile, I found a photo of Christina. Unlike mine, hers wasn't a candid shot—it was posed, her gaze meeting the camera. On the back of hers, it read "Completed". I set it aside and checked the backs of other photos. Most bore the same "Completed", but only one was different. It showed a girl in an unfamiliar school uniform, with "Deceased" written on the back.
My hands shook as I placed the photos back on the desk.
I thought I knew what "Completed" meant.
Abel wasn't ju
