7. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Olivia
E ven the early morning light filtering in behind my curtains doesn’t ease my anxious soul. I’m deeply exhausted. Sleep evaded me as I burrowed beneath my blankets. Every noise beyond my bedroom door is setting my teeth on edge despite the flimsy lock in place. Now an icicle of fear trails down my spine with the memory of it. What was it? My mind is still racing with all possible and plausible explanations for the thing I saw, but the harder I think on it, the more out of my mind I feel.
I shouldn’t give it attention. But with my brother’s visit, it’s only rattled me more. The devil . The image of it resurfaces taunting me and I roll out of bed, setting myself in motion to stop the image from throwing me off kilter completely.
A monster.
“My imagination,” I huff.
I rub the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache bubble beneath the surface. I may need to see Dr Parsons, and finally take those sleeping pills she’s been offering me. What then? Be trapped in your own nightmares, unable to wake up? I blanch at the idea. Normally I would go for a run to clear my head, but the woods I love so much is starting to feel like it’s full of shadows intent on no good.
I hastily tug on my bathing suit instead before pulling my sweatpants and hoodie over the top. My feet slide into my sneakers, and I tug my hair up into a messy bun. The need to erase this thing from my mind is motivating me through the pounding in my head. The problem with my father’s contract with Ironwood has been that my days are pretty stagnant. I exercise and study to prepare for a university I hope that I survive to see. I mentor, but it’s the middle of term and they don’t need me to show any new kids around.
All my friends left with the promise of staying in contact, but as the years have gone by, they dwindled until they completely died out. Probably for the best: I was getting rather depressed listening to their stories, the men they were seeing, the schools they were attending. With nothing to offer to the conversation, it was pretty one sided. Even Declan, my old boyfriend, stopped calling, and the last call I received from a friend broke the news that he was engaged. I don’t know if it was love, but he was part of my distractions. If he were here, I would lure him off to get lost in each other in one of our secret places, letting his mouth and body exhaust me.
I run to the pool building, as if I can outrun the images of the monster and the people of my past. It’s not long until I launch myself off the diving block and start swimming laps of the Olympic sized swimming pool. The heated water and the rhythm of my strokes pushes all thoughts from my head.
When I finally emerge from the pool, I realize I should be grateful for my imagination. The conjuring of that monster beneath the trees has driven my brother’s threat from my mind. Now, its memory hits me full force as I watch more students enter the building to do some morning laps.
Not long now.
Those written words tumble across my mind and I grip the metal bench beneath me as a well of fear cracks open inside of me. Blood, that is where it started, that is where it will end. Blinking away tears, I force myself to stand and wave to Tracy, the lifeguard. My stomach growls, and I am actually surprised that despite everything going on, I still have an appetite. I head to the cafeteria, fighting an inner battle to push all thoughts of monsters, the Mafia, and impending doom from my mind.
You shouldn’t look. I think to myself as I walk back to my dorm. It will only make things worse. And yet I feel as if I need to know. If I see nothing, then I can sweep away all images of a monster and close that door. My sneakers leave the pavement meeting grass, still damp with morning dew. I look back over my shoulder at my dorm as I leave the path, my room visible, even from here, and I swallow hard. I have to know.
Dread begins to build in the pit of my stomach as I make my way toward the spot. I turn to look at my window again. Not much is visible but the light on the ceiling. Not much, but a girl closing her curtains. The plain cream curtains hang on either side, mocking me. I swallow with even greater difficulty as I frantically search the muddy ground beneath my feet. It was raining earlier, the cloudy sky still bruised, and mud sucks at my sneakers. It could be the wrong spot? I cast another glance toward my window. I am almost certain it’s the right spot and despite the rain; relief settles over me as I scan the mud again for any signs of something monstrous and come up empty.
My hand reaches for the nearest tree for support. Calming breaths filling my lungs. My fingers find some grooves in the tree trunk beneath my hand, drawing my eyes. It takes a moment for me to make sense of what I am feeling and seeing as a finger continues to trace a jagged scar across the bark. An obvious pattern is present on the surface. Four scored marks, chiselled into the trunk. I stare from those marks back up to my room, remembering the thing that I thought I saw here. Whatever made these marks were sharp, and at the very top of each streak are deeper gouges. A shiver racks my body as I look over my shoulder, not toward my room, but away—deeper into the woods. Nothing stirs, not even the shadows, and it unsettles me.
I scramble up the short incline to the path, pulling the hood over my head and tucking my hands in my pockets. A few students pass and I force myself to smile as they say hi, not slowing to talk. High walls, I remind myself as I enter the dorm with my access card. High walls and patrolling guards, I am safe. Yet I remember my father’s lawyer’s final words as he picked up the scattered remnant of the will. He asked Mistress Abbott about the security of the school, before offering me advice—“Stay behind these walls, Miss Setpanova-Dolmino, stay where you are safe, you want no part of that world.” I wish I had paid more attention to Mistress Abbott’s response to his questions at that moment.