blind spot : The other side

Oxford Street, London - Morning

It was a perfect London morning.

Sunlight filtered through the narrow gaps between the tall buildings along Oxford Street, bouncing off glass windows and passing buses before climbing higher, slipping through the half-closed blinds of a small bedroom above the noise of the city.

Inside, the light broke into thin golden lines.

They stretched across a messy bed layered with books, folded newspapers, scribbled notes, and loose pages covered in frantic handwriting. Pens lay scattered like forgotten weapons. A corkboard hung crookedly on the wall above the bed, crowded with pinned crime photos, timelines, printed emails, and symbols circled in red ink. Thin strands of thread connected faces to places, dates to questions an entire investigation frozen in the middle of thought.

The room felt lived-in, Overworked and Brilliantly chaotic.

Music blasted from a speaker on the desk.

Everybody wants to rule the world...

The volume was turned up high, loud enough to drown out the traffic below, loud enough to make the room feel like its own universe.

On the bed lay Alice Cooper, Sixteen years old, Genius in motion.

She lay on her back for a moment, then flipped onto her stomach, then pushed herself up to sit cross-legged - never still for more than a few seconds. Oversized glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose no matter how often she pushed them back. Her dark hair was twisted into a loose bun, held together by a pencil that had clearly been used for thinking more than writing.

She wore an oversized hoodie, the sleeves pulled down over her hands, and a pair of shorts comfortable, careless, completely uninterested in appearances.

Her eyes moved constantly.

Up. Down. Left. Right.

They followed invisible lines across the ceiling, as if a crime scene had been projected there only for her. Her gaze sharpened, softened, narrowed again processing angles, shadows, timelines that didn't quite fit.

Her mind was running at two hundred kilometers per minute.

The blood trail bends here...

That shadow doesn't match the light source...

Unless the witness lied or wasn't human...

She mouthed half-formed thoughts, fingers twitching beneath the long sleeves of her hoodie.

Alice Cooper was talkative, friendly, fearless but when she slipped into this state, the world around her faded. Noise became background. Time slowed down. Everything narrowed into patterns, details, possibilities.

The music kept playing.

It's my own desire...

Alice rolled onto her back again, staring up at the ceiling as if it might answer her. She frowned, then smiled faintly, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes.

"Almost got you," she murmured to no one.

Outside, London was waking.

Shoppers filled the sidewalks, buses groaned past the curb, engines hummed, voices overlapped the city moving forward like it always did.

Inside that small bedroom above Oxford Street, Alice reached for another photo, already lost in the case again.

The music cut abruptly.

A sharp ping echoed through the room.

Her eyes flicked toward the bed before her brain even registered the sound. The phone screen lit up, vibrating against a pile of papers.

Steve's message filled the screen.

STEVE COOPER:

Did you solve the case or not?

Alice groaned and flopped sideways, grabbing the phone with one sleeve-covered hand. Before she could even unlock it, another message popped up.

STEVE COOPER:

Because I NEED to win this bet. Hyo said she'll go on a date with me if I do.

I trusted you, my genius.

Alice pushed her glasses up with her thumb, squinting at the screen.

"Unbelievable," she muttered.

Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard.

ALICE:

Are you serious?

You sent me the case file LAST NIGHT.

And now you want a full conclusion in one day?

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

STEVE:

I know, I know.

I sent it late. But come on... you're literally built different.

Please help me out, my genius.

Alice rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt.

She sat up cross-legged again, the sheets twisting beneath her. Her gaze drifted toward the corkboard, as if the photos themselves were waiting for her answer.

ALICE:

Fine.

Before midnight, I'll tell you if it's a suicide or a murder.

A second passed.

Then-

STEVE:

YES.

I knew it. That's my genius. My kiddo.

Alice snorted softly.

"Kiddo? You're the one begging for help," she said under her breath, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

She dropped the phone onto the bed and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling again. The invisible lines returned immediately, sharper now, rearranging themselves in her head.

She reached for one of the printed photos beside her.

Something about it bothered her.

Alice frowned and pulled the picture closer. It was one of the crime scene shots Steve had sent the night before - grainy, poorly lit, taken near a canal. A body on the concrete, police tape in the background, blood spread unevenly across the ground.

She tilted the photo slightly.

Her expression changed.

"Wait..."

She sat up straighter, grabbing the rest of the images and spreading them across the bed.

Her fingers moved fast, lining up angles, matching shadows, comparing positions.

The blood trail curved too cleanly.

Too smooth.

"That's not a spill," she whispered. "That's... a pattern."

She leaned closer, her heart beating a little faster.

The stain formed a faint spiral, barely visible unless you looked for it deliberate, not accidental.

Her eyes jumped to the timestamp printed in the corner.

"How did I miss this?" she muttered. "I never miss this."

Her phone buzzed again beside her, vibrating against the papers.

She didn't look at it.

Not yet.

Her attention was locked on the photo.

Something about this case didn't add up.

BEEEEEP. BEEEEEP. BEEΕΕΕΡ.

The alarm clock on her desk started screaming.

Alice yelped, nearly falling off the bed as she slapped at it blindly. "Shit! Shut up-shut up-!" The room snapped back into reality all at once. The music was still playing. The sunlight had shifted. The clock glared at her. Late. Very late.

"Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK," she groaned, tumbling off the bed and grabbing clothes from the chair. "I have twenty minutes. Twenty."

She shoved the photo back into the pile, her heart still racing. Not just from the alarm. From the spiral.

Her phone lit up again.

STEVE: You okay? You went quiet.

Alice shoved the phone into her hoodie pocket. "Yeah," she muttered to herself, breathless. "I'm okay."

Her eyes flicked once more to the corkboard. To the spiral. She frowned, like her brain wanted to go back to it again.

Not now.

She forced herself to turn away.

The shower water came down in hot, unforgiving streams. Alice stood beneath it, eyes unfocused, letting the noise fill the bathroom while her thoughts refused to slow.

There's another picture.

She scrubbed shampoo through her hair a little too hard.

There has to be.

The spiral made no sense without context. The blood pattern ended too cleanly, like something had been interrupted.

"That idiot," she muttered. "He definitely forgot to send one."

Steve's face flashed in her mind - smiling, confident, probably too busy flirting to double-check the files. Of course he forgot it. Of course.

She shut off the water, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around herself, already replaying the case again.

The canal. The shadow. The angle that didn't belong to any streetlight.

One image is missing. And it's the key.

She pushed the bathroom door open and hurried back into her room, water still dripping from her hair onto the floor, her mind already halfway dressed before her body caught up. Chaos followed her the moment she stepped inside. Clothes lay scattered everywhere, papers covered the bed, and the music from the speaker was still playing like nothing in the world was wrong.

She grabbed the first pair of shorts she saw from the chair and pulled them on without looking, then threw her oversized hoodie over her damp hair, tugging the sleeves down over

her hands. Her socks didn't match, but she didn't care. Her glasses slid down her nose the moment she put them on, fogging from the heat of the shower.

"Great," she muttered, wiping the lenses with the hem of her hoodie.

She picked up her backpack and started stuffing things inside without checking -notebooks, loose papers, a pen, her phone. Then she stopped.

The photo.

Her hand moved back to the bed, pushing aside the mess until she found the spiral image again. She held it for a moment longer than she meant to, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the shape of the blood pattern.

Something about it still didn't sit right.

She folded the picture carefully and slipped it into her bag before zipping it shut.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

STEVE CALLING.

Alice answered while dropping onto the chair to tie her shoes.

"Tell me you didn't forget to send something," she said without even saying hello.

There was a short pause on the other end.

"...Okay, don't kill me," Steve replied. "But yeah. I might have missed one."

Alice closed her eyes slowly.

"I knew it," she said flatly. "You always do this."

Steve laughed nervously. "In my defense, I was kind of distracted."

"By Hyo," Alice said, already pulling her jacket from the chair.

"...Yes."

She rolled her eyes and shoved her arm into the sleeve.

"Send it. Now."

"Give me a minute," Steve said. "And hey you're coming to the hometown this weekend,

right?"

Alice stopped mid-step, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

"...What?"

"You know," Steve went on casually, "your old gang's there. Everyone's coming. He is too."

Heat rushed to her face before she could stop it.

"Who?" she shot back quickly. "I don't have a crush."

Steve laughed on the other end.

"You literally wrote his name in your diary."

Alice froze.

"You read my diary?" she hissed. "Steve, I told you not to-"

"Relax," he cut in quickly. "I didn't read it. I saw the page. Big difference."

"You're unbelievable."

"I'll send the image," Steve said. "Check your phone in a minute."

The call ended.

Alice let out a long breath and shook her head, grabbing her bag again as she moved toward

the door.

"Late, late, late," she muttered under her breath.

She rushed toward the handle, already reaching for it, but stopped at the last second. Her hand rested there for a moment before she turned back without really knowing why.

The mirror on the wall caught her reflection halfway across the room.

Sunlight slipped through the half-closed blinds, falling in thin golden lines across her face.

She took a step closer and pushed her glasses up slightly, studying herself like she was trying to solve something she couldn't put into words.

Her hair was a mess.

The pencil holding her bun in place had almost given up, and loose strands had fallen across her cheek.

She lifted her hand to fix them, then stopped.

For a moment she just stood there, staring at her own reflection.

This time...

Will he notice me?

The thought slipped in before she could stop it.

Her lips pressed together immediately, annoyed at herself.

"Seriously, Cooper..." she muttered, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie straight. "You're solving a case, not going on a date."

She adjusted her glasses again, gave herself one last look, then shook her head slightly as if trying to reset her brain.

"Focus."

She turned toward the door again-

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound came from the window.

Alice froze, her eyes flicking toward the window.

She let out a long sigh, already knowing who it was.

"Oh... come on. Not again."

Tap. Tap.

The sound came again, louder this time.

She walked over and pulled the curtain aside in one sharp motion.

Ryan Parker was hanging onto the drainpipe like a badly balanced monkey, one foot barely on the ledge and one hand gripping the window frame. His grin was wide, proud, and completely unapologetic.

Beside him stood Maya Reed, perfectly steady, arms folded, one eyebrow raised as if climbing second-floor windows before school was a normal part of her morning routine.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Maya said through the glass. "We brought chaos."

Ryan waved enthusiastically with the hand that wasn't holding the pipe.

"And punctuality. You said twenty minutes. We gave you forty."

Alice slid the window open just enough to glare at them.

"You're both unbelievable," she whispered sharply. "My mom is downstairs."

Maya shrugged like that meant nothing.

"She loves us."

Ryan nodded seriously.

"I'm emotionally adopted."

"You're emotionally stupid," Alice shot back.

Ryan gasped as if she had stabbed him.

"That hurt."

He shifted his weight dramatically.

The drainpipe creaked.

Alice's eyes widened instantly.

"Don't you dare-"

The pipe made another sound, louder this time.

Ryan froze.

Maya glanced down toward the ground, then back up at him.

Alice grabbed the window frame with both hands, her fingers tightening around the edge.

"Ryan, don't move," she whispered. "Don't. Move."

He moved.

The pipe slipped.

"Ryan-!"

Alice lunged forward, catching the back of his hoodie and yanking him inside with more force than control. He stumbled through the window and crashed straight onto the bed, papers flying everywhere as the mattress dipped under his weight.

For a second he just lay there, tangled in limbs, notes, and crime photos, staring up at the ceiling like nothing had happened.

Maya climbed in after him without any hurry, stepping through the window smoothly and landing on the floor as if she had done this a hundred times before.

Alice slammed the window shut and spun around.

"Are you trying to kill me?" she hissed. "Because this is how I die. Not by monster, not by exam - by you falling through my window at seven in the morning."

Ryan didn't move. He was still lying on the bed, staring at the corkboard above it.

"...Wow," he said slowly. "You redecorated."

Alice blinked.

"What?"

Ryan pointed lazily at the wall without lifting his head.

"Very murder-core. I like the vibe."

Maya stepped closer, studying the board with interest. Photos, strings, and notes covered almost every inch of it, connecting faces, dates, and places in a way that only made sense to

Alice.

She nodded approvingly.

"Serial killer chic," she said. "Very on brand for you."

Alice stared at both of them for a second, completely unimpressed.

Then she grabbed a notebook from the bed and threw it at Ryan.

"Get up."

Ryan caught the notebook without even looking.

"Violence," he said, unimpressed. "First thing in the morning. Nice."

Alice rolled her eyes.

"You two broke into my room. Again."

Ryan finally sat up, brushing papers off his hoodie like nothing had happened.

Alice crossed her arms, ready to start yelling again-

Footsteps sounded from downstairs.

A door opened somewhere in the house, the creak carrying clearly up the stairs.

All three of them froze.

Alice's heart slammed against her ribs.

Footsteps.

Small. Light.

Coming closer.

Ryan slowly lowered himself back onto the bed, easing down like he could somehow melt into the mattress and disappear.

Maya didn't move at all. She stayed where she was near the window, arms folded, completely calm, like this situation didn't concern her in the slightest.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

The handle turned.

The door opened.

Alice's little brother stepped inside.

He stopped in the doorway, blinking at the scene in front of him.

Papers everywhere.

Ryan half-sprawled across the bed.

Maya standing by the window like she owned the place.

Alice frozen in the middle of the room, looking like she had been caught in the middle of a crime.

Silence filled the air.

Her brother walked in slowly, like none of this surprised him anymore.

He went straight to the desk, picked up a pencil, and turned it between his fingers, completely uninterested in the chaos behind him.

Then he glanced at all three of them once.

"...Okay."

He turned, closed the door behind him, and left.

The click echoed louder than it should have.

For a full two seconds, no one moved.

Ryan was still half on the bed.

Maya was still standing near the window.

Alice was still frozen in the middle of the room.

Then Ryan whispered,

"That was terrifying."

Maya let out a slow breath.

"Your brother has... very strong energy."

Alice pressed a hand to her chest.

"I almost died."

Ryan grinned.

"Worth it."

Alice shoved him again.

"Never. Do. That. Again."

Ryan laughed quietly, fixing his hoodie like nothing had happened.

Outside, the sound of footsteps faded down the hallway.

Inside, the room slowly relaxed, the tension easing out of the air like the walls themselves could finally breathe again.

Alice glanced at the clock on the desk.

Her eyes widened instantly.

"Oh no."

Ryan blinked.

"What?"

She grabbed her bag in one quick motion.

"We are late."

Ryan stepped closer, his expression suddenly turning serious.

"Oops," he said, patting his pockets. "Almost forgot."

Alice frowned.

"Forgot what-"

He pulled out a slightly squished veg roll, still wrapped in foil, and held it out to her like it was evidence in a crime scene.

"I know you," he said. "You definitely skipped breakfast."

Alice's lips curved into a small smirk as she took it from him.

"Don't act like my dad."

Ryan scoffed and immediately reached out, cupping her cheek with one hand and squishing it just enough to annoy her.

"Yes," he declared proudly. "Don't forget - I am your dad."

Alice grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away, glaring at him.

"You are not my dad."

Ryan shrugged.

"Emotionally, I am."

Alice swatted his hand aside, laughing under her breath.

Before she could say anything else, Maya stepped closer and leaned her head lightly against Alice's shoulder, completely at ease, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

"If he's your dad," Maya said casually, "then I'm your mom. Don't forget that."

Alice rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, unwrapping the foil.

"I know. I'm your first child."

Ryan grinned.

"And our smartest."

Maya added softly,

"And our baby."

For a moment, the room felt different.

Warm. Safe. Full.

Alice took a bite of the roll, chewing slowly, letting that feeling settle somewhere deep in her chest.

Then-

A voice echoed up from downstairs.

"ALICE!"

She winced instantly.

Her mom's voice came again, sharp but familiar.

"You're already getting late! Breakfast is ready - come down!"

Alice squeezed her eyes shut for a second.

"...Great."

She glanced at the door.

Then at the window.

Then at Ryan and Maya.

"If I go downstairs," she whispered quickly, "I'm going to be late. Like... officially dead late."

Maya tilted her head.

"So?"

Alice pointed at the window.

"So we use your way."

Ryan's grin spread immediately.

"I knew today would be fun."

Alice grabbed her backpack, shoved her notes inside, and pulled on her jacket in one fast motion. Then she walked to the window and looked down.

Second floor.

It was higher than she remembered.

Alice leaned out slightly, then pulled back, swallowing.

She turned slowly toward Ryan.

"You can catch me if I fall, right?"

Ryan crossed his arms, laughing quietly.

"Wow. Trust issues already? Relax. I've got you."

Maya climbed out first, moving carefully, perfectly balanced on the narrow edge like she had done this a hundred times before.

Ryan followed after her, stepping onto the ledge and muttering under his breath.

"Gravity is overrated."

Alice took a deep breath.

No other option, she thought.

Adventure it is.

She climbed onto the ledge, gripping the window frame tightly, her shoes scraping against the wall as she started inching her way down.

Slowly. Carefully. One step. Then another.

Ryan stood below with his arms ready, watching her like he expected something to go wrong.

Maya looked up.

"You're doing fine," she said calmly.

Alice didn't answer.

She was almost halfway down-

Then-"Alice!"

Her heart jumped.

She froze.

Her little brother stood in the doorway, eyes wide, staring at her halfway out the window.

For a second, time stopped.

Alice slowly lifted one finger to her lips, her eyes pleading.

Please. Don't shout.

Without saying a word, he turned and walked away.

He stared at her, then blinked once and nodded.

A moment later, his voice drifted from downstairs.

"She's still getting ready, Mom."

Alice let out a shaky breath, still clinging to the window frame.

"I'm dead," she whispered.

Ryan looked up from below.

"You're not dead."

Alice swallowed.

"I'm so dead."

Maya looked up calmly.

"You're also still on the wall. Move."

Alice squeezed her eyes shut.

"...Right."

She started climbing down again.

Her foot slipped.

Alice lost her balance completely and dropped.

"Wait-!"

Ryan lunged forward just in time, catching her around the waist - but the force knocked both of them backward.

They hit the ground together in a mess of limbs, shoes, and dry leaves.

A loud crunch echoed as they landed.

For a second, neither of them moved.