Chapter 2 #2
She took another swig, capped the bottle, and shoved it back inside the drawer. “The sheets are new, and we checked the mattress for blood. You’re all good!” Sitting upright on her bed, she fluffed her pillow and made herself comfortable. “What year are you?”
“Senior,” I replied. “You?”
“Sophomore.”
I’d never shared a room with someone in a different year before.
But right now, that was the least of my worries.
My gaze skimmed back to the window.
“Why would there be blood if she fell out of the window?” I asked slowly.
“There wasn’t. We checked for it, just in case.” Daphne grabbed an eye mask and stretched it over her head. “I’ll let you get settled. We can chat about it tomorrow. Nice to meet you, Blair.” She blew me a kiss, lowered the mask over her face, and pulled her curtain shut.
All righty, I mouthed.
My heart didn’t relax as I started unpacking my suitcase. Dread accompanied it like a new friend as I folded my clothes into the drawers and hung the rest in my closet. It worsened as I dressed in my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and finally climbed into bed.
Into the dead girl’s bed.
I pulled the curtain closed and scooted toward the window to check the lock. The window opened and closed with a crank and was too narrow for something to simply fall out.
You’d have to squeeze through. Jump. Or someone would have to push you.
I carefully peeked outside and stifled a scream when my eyes landed on someone wearing a mask, standing below the window, staring straight up at me. My breath caught as I jerked it back closed, then pressed my hand against my chest.
I forced myself to look again.
My pulse raced as I slowly peeled the curtain aside, scanning the darkness outside. The person was gone, but that didn’t make me feel any more relaxed.
“You’re seeing shit, Blair,” I tried to tell myself, yanking the curtain shut.
I repeated the same mantra as I collapsed onto my back and pulled the quilt up to my chin. It felt like a lifetime had passed as I struggled to get comfortable.
Something wicked hung in the air. No matter how many times I shut my eyes, sleep wouldn’t come to me. Even in the safety of this room, I still felt watched, just like I had outside on those steps.
When I finally drifted off, another nightmare found me.
In the same bellowed voice, he said the words he always did. “Admit it, Blair. Admit it’s your fault!”
I shot upright in bed as I gasped for air.
I hadn’t dreamed of that in years.
But the nightmare was back now that I was here.
Something dark and evil crept through the halls of Saint Vale.
I’d only been here an hour, and I could already feel it.
I’d willingly walked straight into hell.
How far would I allow the devil to drag me in?
The bright morning sun filtered through the window when I woke, warming my comfortable alcove. For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the crystal chandelier above my bed, counting the crystals.
The memories of last night didn’t take long to rush through me.
The rain. Arisono. Sleeping in a dead girl’s bed. The masked figure outside my window.
I groaned as I rolled toward the window and peeked outside.
My mind could’ve been playing tricks on me last night. I had been stressed and tired. It could’ve been a shadow of something moving in the storm.
I frowned when all I found was a stone wall below. Thick ivy climbed its surface. No trees or anything else for me to mistake for a person’s shadow.
Yawning, I pushed back my curtain. Soft music drifted through the room, and I had to hold myself back from covering my ears.
Daphne sat at the vanity curling her hair.
The warmth of the alcove and the quilt slipped away as I slid out of my bed.
“Morning!” Daphne chirped, sounding way too chipper for a girl who had chugged tequila last night.
“You ready for your first day?” She dropped the pink curling iron to swivel in the stool and look at me.
“You seriously started at the perfect time. The professors aren’t being as annoying as they are at the beginning of the school year. ”
“Morning,” I grumbled, politely smiling while shuffling toward the vanity.
I grimaced at my reflection in the vanity mirror from behind her, taking in the puffy, dark circles beneath my eyes, and swallowed down the urge to tell her I wasn’t ready at all.
Not ready for classes, for Saint Vale, and definitely not for whatever had lurked outside my window last night.
Daphne glanced down at the watch on her wrist, settled between gold Cartier bracelets. “We have twenty minutes before classes start. If we’re late, the professor emails Arisono. She considers it one of her strikes.” She rolled her eyes while unplugging the curling iron.
I gave her a small, appreciative smile for the heads-up.
The last thing I needed was a strike on my first day.
While Daphne might’ve been a roommate killer, so far, I liked her.
I shuffled to the bathroom, wishing I’d set my alarm last night, and took the fastest shower of my life.
When I returned to our room, Daphne was finished with her makeup. We switched places at the vanity.
Her crisp white Oxford shirt, with the Saint Vale crest neatly embroidered over the left breast pocket, matched mine. So did her gray pleated skirt and white socks. Saint Vale’s uniform. Though they did give us the option of the socks or black tights. I chose tights today.
Not having the time to dry my hair, I pulled it into a ponytail, smoothing the strands down. Scooting closer, I drew a sharp line of black winged eyeliner across each lid before applying mascara. For the final touch, I tied a red ribbon around my ponytail, pulling the knot tight.
“Any words of advice?” I asked Daphne.
“About what?” she asked.
I stood and zipped my skirt. “Surviving Saint Vale.”
“Honestly? Most students don’t leave this place with their sanity fully intact.” She grabbed her black Mary Jane pumps from the floor and slid them on. “This place can be the best time of your life or the absolute worst.”
“How do I make it not the worst?”
“Lie low and mind your business. It’s boring but safe.”
“I’m okay with boring.”
“Suit yourself.” She flashed a smile. “I hate boring.”
We grabbed our bags and left the room.
Other students were already walking out of the corridor toward the steps.
“Definitely follow Arisono’s curfew,” Daphne added as we walked.
“She’s strict as fuck about it. And trust me, don’t test her.
Just because she can’t move her face doesn’t mean she’s not crazy.
Only a few students are exempt from her rules, and no offense, but if you were on that list, you wouldn’t have me as a roommate.
” She motioned toward the third floor. “You’d have your own wing. ”
I nodded in understanding, filing everything she told me into my brain.
She smiled and waved at a girl as we passed, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she thought about what else to tell me. “Oh! Don’t go outside campus after dark. And don’t make fun of me for this ridiculous idiom, but there are things that go bump in the night here.”
There was no stopping my snort. “What, like the bogeyman?”
“I’d say bogeymen.”
I slowed, remembering the figure outside my window last night.
Daphne kept her pace. “Since we’re on the subject of bogeymen, if you see a guy wearing a mask, turn around and walk in the other direction. Do. Not. Run.”
“Why don’t I run?”
“They’ll see it as a game.”
“Who’s they?”
She skipped down the stairs, all peppy, but nothing was lighthearted about the way she’d told me not to run.
She’d said it like it was the law, and breaking it would send you straight to prison.
No, straight to the death penalty.
“Are masked men … a regular thing here?” I asked.
She didn’t answer me.
“Daphne,” I pressed, “are they?”
She shrugged, adjusting the strap of her Hermès bag on her shoulder. “Look, we’re in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Most of us grew up in cities with clubs, private yachts, places to always have fun and party. Saint Vale doesn’t have any of that.”
“What does it have?”
“Nothing, so we find ways to entertain ourselves. Since I’d prefer not to have another dead roommate, especially after my mom had to hire an attorney and the assholes here called me the Roommate Killer for a freaking month”—she stopped talking and turned to look at me—“remember, lie low, okay?”
“Lie low,” I repeated with a nod when we reached the last step.
That was always my strategy at every new university.
Stay quiet, invisible, and out of trouble.
But somehow, I always messed up.
“Oh! Let me add another piece of advice: if his last name is Marchetti, stay the hell away from him. If he’s hot here, he’s psycho.” She pressed a peck on my cheek, as if boundaries didn’t exist to her. “Have a good first day.”
I stood there, rubbing my cheek in confusion, as she skipped across the vestibule toward a group of girls waiting near a door.
All four of them turned to look at me.
None of them smiled. Their expressions ranged from curious to unimpressed. They were beautiful in that untouchable, intimidating way that made you feel like you’d wandered into the cool kids’ party that you were never invited to.
They were definitely not the welcoming committee.
New Girl Syndrome was never fun.
I turned away from them and checked my schedule before searching the campus map for my first class, American Gothic Literature.
A few students bumped my shoulder as I followed the corridor toward the lecture room. The room was already half full when I arrived. I handed the professor my paperwork and slipped into the seat in the third row beside two empty desks.
A minute later, two guys dropped into the seats next to me.
One winked. The other jerked his chin up.
I reminded myself of Daphne’s advice. Lie low.
But just like every university before this one, I messed up.
During my first class at Saint Vale, I caught the devil’s attention.