Shadowface

Chapter 1

SUMMER

PYSC 100

Fall 2024

Monday, Wednesday, Friday

Kinsmen University

Department of Psychology

Course Syllabus

I nstructor: Dr. Talia Garcia

Teaching Assistant : Lincoln Kennedy

Required Textbook: Science of the Mind: An Introduction to Psychological Principles. Third edition. 2022. T. Garcia. K. Landry. L. Kennedy. Petticoat Publishing.

Optional Textbook (Strongly Recommended) : The War of Emotions: Fear, Anger, and Loathing. Second Edition. 2020. K. Landry. T. Garcia. Petticoat Publishing.

Course Description

This course was created to break you, to help you understand all parts of yourself: the good, the bad, and the parts you’d rather keep locked inside. If you progress along the semester and don’t drop out after the first month, you will transform. You will rebuild yourself with a deeper understanding of your inner psyche. To succeed in this course, you must plunge into the darkest parts of your mind and connect with the world around you. Psychology is the scientific study of the human experience, and mastering yourself is key. You will gain insight into your true identity and apply that knowledge to gain a deeper understanding of your life and what drives the behavior of those around you. You will probably fail this course. Welcome to Kinsmen University. Welcome to Psychology 101.

D r. Garcia’s high heels click against the marble floor to the front of the lecture hall as everyone—at least, those who have read the course outline—immediately hushes their conversation. She’s a tiny woman with an extraordinary presence and a reputation that precedes her. I barely see her, so small against the vastness of Smith Hall, the university’s most famous lecture hall.

I’ve seen her before on the news, heard her on crime podcasts as the leading authority on child psychology. Her photo is on the wall in my father’s study next to his desk—although, she was much younger in that photo. My father knew her; she was his supervisor while completing his PhD program at this very school, and he worked with her off and on for years after.

My breathing stalls as she takes her place on the podium in front of the room. Her salt and pepper dark hair is pulled back, and an elegant silver streak marks her forehead. She rises to the podium; behind her, a grand black curtain hangs over marble walls. While this room has a modern feel, this institution is nearly three hundred years old, and I wonder how many students have sat here listening to her.

I can’t believe we are actually here. It feels like yesterday we were sipping wine in Paris, riding bikes in Belgium, and scooting around to different hotels in Amsterdam. My best friend Dani and I traveled through Europe for the summer after doing a year at community college in our hometown. I only got my scholarship letter in June after thinking I didn’t get in. Oddly enough, it was days after my father died. Dani deferred a year so we could go to school together. And now, here we are.

She lifts herself on a riser and clears her throat. What’s left of any murmur of the two hundred people seated immediately silences as this tiny Italian woman commands the room.

You can hear a pin drop.

Dani elbows me. “Holy shit, she seems intense.”

I elbow her back as a few people turn and glare. “Shh, Dani. We can’t talk right now.”

People pay thousands of dollars for their kids to attend this private university—which rivals Harvard and Yale in prestige—and many attend just to hear this tiny woman speak.

Three screens light up on the wall behind her. One giant wall of screens, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Those dreaded words are written in various ways all across them.

Tiny, large, intertwined, as if taunting me.

You will fail.

As if she knows I’m not good enough to be here. That I am a fraud, thinking I can follow in my father’s footsteps because, deep down, I know I’m not smart enough and he must have pulled strings to get me in here. I’m nothing like him.

“Welcome to Kinsmen University.” Dr. Garcia’s voice booms across the lecture hall. She seems ageless, timeless in her beauty.

I’m not sure how old she is, but she’s at least pushing seventy, given she was at least twenty-five years older than my father.

My head spins at the words in front of me. Failure is not an option since I’m here on a scholarship I barely earned. Failure will get me kicked out.

Why did I sign up for this class for the first semester? I must derive pleasure from torturing myself.

There are over two hundred students in this class, and half are vying to major in this program since psychology is what this school is known for. It has the best program in the country. It was the part of my father’s life he never brought me into, until now.

“What emotion do these words invoke in you?” she asks the room, and I swear… I swear her eyes land right on me.

I get it, people usually stare. My hair draws attention, especially in a sea of mediocrity. Few people can say their hair is as naturally white as snow. It’s so clear, it crystallizes under the light. Describing it as blonde doesn’t do it justice. My father used to tell me I was a vision of an angel. My hair was a gift, my birthright, and I should be proud of it because I got it from my grandmother.

“It makes me feel all tingly inside,” someone yells and chuckles.

Dr. Garcia pauses as if she wants to retort, then her lips merely twitch into a small smile. “Clever. I hope we can keep up that level of humor throughout the semester. Although, thin jokes will hardly help you pass this course.”

The room collectively chuckles.

“Scared,” someone else yells out.

Her eyes light up. “Ah, yes. Fear. That is a very natural emotion to failure. Show of hands; how many of you are scared right now?”

At least half the class puts their hands up, me included. Although, that’s not exactly how I would describe how I feel at this moment.

Feelings aren’t something that comes naturally to me.

She scans the room, then clicks something in her hand and a new slide pops up on the wall of screens behind her.

“Fear,” she says, waving her hands theatrically, striding to the center of the stage. “Fear is instinctive, fear is powerful. Fear can both protect you and paralyze you, motivate and haunt you.” The note in her voice gives me pause. “Fear is what we will primarily focus on throughout this class. Your response to fear will either lift you up to extraordinary heights or cause your demise. I find fear the most…fascinating of all human emotions.”

Fear… What about anger and loathing?

My father became the world’s leading expert on fear. Fear, in the context of the class textbook, belonged to him.

She sighs, and for a moment, she finally shows her age as her fingers pinch her nose. “Indeed, some of you will barely pass this class, as you will find out after your first major paper. This is to weed you out, as we only want the brightest minds in our program. I will not be reviewing the syllabus with you—assuming since you’re in this school, you can read—but I would like to point out we expect short weekly reflections, which are due on Fridays.”

The class groans, and Dr. Garcia waves her hand like she couldn’t be bothered to hear it.

“I’d also like to introduce you to your TA for the class, Lincoln Kennedy. Lincoln will be grading everything this semester and will be holding office hours on class days: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. This class is incredibly lucky to have Lincoln. He’s one of my PhD students and knows this material very well—after all, he helped me write the textbook. I’ll encourage you to take up any grievances with Lincoln before you come to me.”

My eyes drift to a guy with dark hair sitting in the front. I can only glimpse the side of his head, but he keeps a tight look on his face. Glasses so thick, I wonder if he isn’t completely blind.

L. Kennedy.

Lincoln Kennedy.

A flash of recognition hits me before he turns his head back toward the front of the class. But it’s enough of a view that my stomach squeezes so tight and shoots right to my core.

“Wow, look at Professor Hottie,” Dani teases in an obnoxious whisper. “He looks too young to have written the damn textbook.”

I squint to get a better look. His name precedes him, as I merely stare at an entity in my mind. My father talked about him so much, but I never had the pleasure of meeting him.

He sits like a stone, not budging in the first row, even though the entire room is looking at him.

Jet-black hair, skin a pale glow. He’s wearing all black, a turtleneck, and has a gothic look to him. An aura of arrogance, as if he is too smart to be bothered to engage with any of us in this class. A creepy kind of sexy that words can’t describe.

Dani, of course, has already googled him.

“He finished his degree at nineteen and jumped right into his master’s. He’s only twenty-five and is about to finish his PhD.” Dani looks at me carefully. “So, do you know him?”

The back of my teeth grind together. “Why would you ask that?”

She narrows her eyes, jerking her head in his direction. “Well…he wrote the textbook with your father.”

I keep my gaze on Lincoln, darkness shrouding him. “No. I don’t know him.” My father believed in the separation of church and state—his work being church, his family being state. Lincoln was like the son my father never had, a relationship I had no part of. An entire part of my father’s life I could never tap into.

“I’ve never met him.” I keep my voice low as we start to catch the attention of Professor Garcia. “He was my father’s protégé.” I can’t hide the hint of jealousy that laces my voice. “He helped my father with research and stuff.”

Which is part of the reason I’m here—I never had the chance to share that with my father. We lived only an hour away from here, so my father commuted all the time for visits. It’s like he lived a double life. When he was home, the dinner table was always about how brilliant Lincoln was. How much potential Lincoln had.

And I was just so…ordinary.

It was never my path to follow my father, even though I was fascinated by it all, too. But Lincoln…he was always top of mind for my father.

“You don’t have to follow his footsteps, Summer.”

My mother hated that I came here—hated it even more when I was awarded the scholarship and accepted it. My mom, for whatever reason, wanted nothing to do with this place, even though this is where my father grew up.

Evidently, my father has entrusted me with his legacy, and it is now my responsibility to seize it. He pulled the strings to get me here. He must have…

Dani looks at me and frowns. “Weekly reflections? Well, I’m fucked.”

I smile tightly as my nerves fire on end. “You’ll be fine. You just have to pass; it’s not like you want in this program.”

Dani plays with her braid falling over her shoulders. “You’ll be fine, too, but honestly, I can’t wait for office hours with Lincoln.” Her eyes flicker as she watches my reaction.

I can’t help but look at him again, the familiarity of him. It’s like he can sense me and looks right at me, and his soft features seem bored. I give him a weak smile, and I almost wave before he shifts his attention back to Dr. Garcia without returning it.

I am very curious as to what rumors she’s heard about him, though. From everything I can see, he’s extremely rigid. Awkward, even. Like he’s so nerdy, he doesn’t realize how attractive he is.

“Well, he seems fun,” I joke, and Dani laughs. Probably because I never joke.

Dani gives me a mischievous grin. “Maybe you could help him loosen his turtleneck.”

I can’t help but snicker.

Dr. Garcia clears her throat and glares at us, as if speaking to me. “You will do well to pay strong attention and keep up with your course readings. Don’t overthink your weekly reflections and use at least one external source to back up any claims. Each reflection should focus on the material for that week. This is an introductory class, but we will dive into the five major perspectives of psychology over the next twelve weeks.”

I catch Lincoln looking at us again as a blush hits my cheeks. He looks serious, too serious…and he’s staring right at me. I understand academia enough. Most professors or wannabe professors are doing this for the research, and grading papers is annoying for them.

And Lincoln, in all his Alt-Gothic glory, looks really fucking annoyed. As if being in this class is beneath him.

Dr. Garcia starts her lecture about research methods and the importance of study groups, and I scribble down everything she says.

I can’t take my eyes off Lincoln, and for whatever reason, he keeps glancing at me, too, like he knows he’s going to fail me. Unlike Dani, I not only need to pass this course, I need to excel in it. Because psychology is the major I’ve decided to pursue.

I can’t go home to my mother as a failure. She’s still angry at me for accepting this scholarship and for running off to Europe with Dani. Especially since she never approved of my friendship with Dani to begin with.

Dani’s family name is soiled. Her father went to prison when we were sixteen, but Dani won’t tell me for what. All I know is all the court records and proceedings are confidential, which means whatever he did was really bad.

I glance at the clock. Only ten minutes left, and I can’t wait to get out of here. I have hours of reading to do. I look down at my thick psychology textbook, the author’s name bleeding out of the pages, slapping me in the face.

K. Landry.

Suddenly, my attention is caught as my phone buzzes. Not just mine, but everyone’s phone in the vast room buzzes simultaneously. A soft murmur flows through the crowd. Intrigued, I grab it out of my bag, wondering if it’s an emergency text message. As I open the message, a shockwave courses through me, nearly causing my eyes to pop out of their sockets. It’s me… Someone sent a photo of me.

No, not me. This isn’t me.

But it could be me. There is an uncanny resemblance as I stare down at the photo.

“What the fuck?” I whisper and glance over at Dani, who is staring at the same photo.

It’s a picture of a picture? The photo has distinguished black edges and is placed on a table. A dead girl, arms bound, wearing nothing but her white bra and underwear. Her face is covered by a burlap sack and her knees are up, as if she’s displaying herself for the camera.

She’s a blonde like me… Curvy and beautiful.

And dead. Clearly dead.

Dr. Garcia pauses her lecture, looking almost bored, as the class erupts into chatter. “Relax, everyone. It’s only a prank. These old photos get sent out every year to this class to scare you. It’s unfortunate, but a certain group of people on this campus don’t seem to have respect for the dead. You’ll get used to it.”

A reminder, I realize. Someone is sending out a reminder.

I understand why my mother was so against me coming here. I know the lore of what happened at this school in the 1970s, and again in 2002, because I read about it when I got accepted.

I glossed over it, because what happened, happened so long ago, it didn’t really matter. I guess I was wrong.

After all this time, it should be left alone and not brought up again. The stain on the campus should have faded into oblivion with how horrible it is.

“Holy mother of fuck,” Dani whispers, staring down at her phone, her eyes bulging out of her head. I can’t rip my eyes from it, either.

Dani tilts her head and squints, inspecting the photo closer. Dr. Garcia speaks into the microphone, realizing she’s lost the group. “This class is officially over. Don’t forget your readings and try not to get caught up in the madness. The lore of what happened is quite alluring, but he’s a distraction, and you’ll get behind if you pay too much attention to him.”

Him…

The person who did this all those years ago, and the entity that came before him. His trademark name now haunts this town. He signed every taunting photo and left them in public places across campus for everyone to see.

The name he gave himself corresponds to the whispers and legend that haunts this town. The photos he left instilled fear in every student who attended this institution. Rumor has it, he carved out their eyes and hid their faces behind a burlap mask.

The mask is a symbol of a secret society so wicked, they had prohibited all fraternities and sororities on campus since the 1970s because of it.

And is the creepiest name I’ve ever heard.

Shadowface.