Nick
Nick
Everyone in the union building is standing around staring at the floor, at the walls. At each other. He can’t stand it.
He manages five minutes before he knows he can’t stay in this awful place any longer. This pen of bedraggled, confused human beings, making shitty small talk.
‘I need to get out of here Beth,’ he says, rocking from foot to foot. ‘I need to get some air.’
Beth is sitting on a chair, the same vacant expression on her face that all the others have. Her hands are clutching a cup of water. She’s not thirsty, but someone handed it to her when they walked in and she just took it, unthinking.
‘What do you mean?’
He tugs at the collar of his jumper. It’s too tight. He feels suffocated.
‘I just… I just need to get out. I can’t… it’s too hot in here.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No,’ he says. He realises with alarm that he needs to get away from her, too. ‘No, stay here. Keep our seats. It’ll be ages before they get to us. I won’t be long, I promise.’
He ignores the doubt in her eyes and walks away from her before she has the chance to say anything else.
As he passes through the union halls, he overhears a boy with greasy hair, leaning against the wall and chatting on the phone.
‘Seriously mate. I’m not even joking. They were bringing out bodies. People have actually died. It’s fucking traumatic. Never seen anything like it. Well, yeah. I mean, that building. They always said it was cursed. Didn’t I tell you? Yeah, for real. It had a reputation for being, like, haunted. Its design was inspired by this mental asylum, and the bloke it’s named after topped himself. You couldn’t make this shit up. It was a dump. I can’t believe it. What are the chances of me walking past right at that moment? I’m legit shaking here.’
Nick pauses and stares at the boy, who turns towards him and frowns.
‘Hang on,’ he says into the speaker. He pulls the phone away from his ear. ‘You alright mate?’
Nick shoves the boy back against the wall, hard. He opens his mouth to say something. But what is there to say?
He stalks off, ignoring the boy shouting ‘Fucking psycho!’ in his wake.
Outside, he walks as far away from the union and people as he can, until he reaches the central courtyard of the university, inside which is a huge pond. A rusting metal sculpture of two flying birds stands at its centre, dully illuminated in the moonlight.
He can still hear sirens wailing in the background.
He leans over the railings, staring at the water. Tries to process the enormity of the evening. Tries to remember the joy he felt as he first kissed Beth. Joy that turned so quickly to horror.
What did it mean? Is he just being superstitious like his mum, or is it a sign?
He shouldn’t have left Beth alone just now. But he couldn’t cope with her feelings alongside his own. A space had opened up between them, and he didn’t like what was filling it.
He had wanted to go back inside, wanted to do something, wanted to help.
But she stopped him.
And of course, that wasn’t her fault. She was right to stop him.
But how could he ever reconcile the two things?
And how could he ever live with the knowledge that, if it wasn’t for her, he could have done more?