Chapter 2 - Victoria
The school halls are quiet once again as the last child exits, and the buses haul them away, and the staff slowly file out one by one.
As much as I enjoy what I do, spending all day shaping young minds, there’s peace in the nearly silent building once everyone’s gone.
It used to feel somewhat daunting and hollow when I first started, but with time, I’ve come to appreciate those opportunities to slow down and center myself again after a busy day.
Even if it can be wild and chaotic at best, it will never fully match my upbringing. In almost every sense, that chaos will always feel like a saving grace in comparison.
It took me a long time to realize I wanted to become a teacher, but it was the best decision I ever made for myself.
The job is far from glamorous, and it certainly comes with its own unique set of challenges, but it feels like mine in a way. My classroom—my space to offer the kids somewhere safe and comfortable to learn.
Not only that, but the job has granted me the ability to have a place of my own, even if it’s just a small apartment right in the middle of town. It beats the loud, abrasive households I had been a part of for most of my childhood.
Bouncing from foster home to foster home made it impossible for me to feel a sense of belonging anywhere. I was only ever a passing thought, and those homes were momentary stops along the way for me.
Finally, being able to put distance between myself and the last family who took me in had been nothing short of a blessing, but being able to truly settle in and find my stride in that small town has been more than I could ever ask for.
After all the turmoil I’ve experienced, I’m finally getting somewhere. Finally…I feel truly independent and like nobody can take that from me.
I don’t know how I’ve managed to turn things around, or how everything has fallen into place despite my previous bad luck, but now, I feel grateful for every moment. Every chance to soak in just how different my life has become, all because I decided to make it happen.
The distant sound of clicking heels against linoleum draws closer while I wipe down the front board, and I glance over to find my colleague Vanessa in the doorway.
With her jacket already on and a travel mug in hand, she gives me a small smile. “Still here?”
Humming, I nod and finish a final sweep of the board before dusting my hands off. “Still here…I likely will be for a few more hours.”
“More prep work?”
“You know it.”
Vanessa chuckles to herself, adjusting the purse on her shoulder. Even after spending the whole day wrangling her class full of seven-year-olds, her makeup doesn’t look like it has moved an inch. “It’s Friday. You’re allowed to have a life outside of this place, you know.”
“I know,” I say with a contented sigh while I glance around the room. “…would it be sad if I said this is my life?”
She gives me an exaggerated deadpan before shaking her head, red-tinted lips pulling faintly. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“I must be that obvious then.”
“It’s part of your charm, at least,” Vanessa muses, surely aware of how busy her personal life is outside of work compared to mine. “You’re more dedicated to the job than most, I’ll give you that. Just don’t spend all night here, alright? You deserve a break, too.”
Smiling at that, I nod and head over to my desk. “Don’t worry, there’s a nice bottle of Moscato calling my name at home. I can’t make it wait too long.”
Vanessa laughs to herself with a genuine sound that has brought me a sense of comfort since I started teaching at the school. Two years have passed since then, and in that time, she easily became my closest friend. One of my first real friends, in all honesty.
Where I used to shrink within myself during conversations, favoring the idea of dodging rather than embracing potential friendships, she always looked past that hurt. Past the pain I’ve kept buried, and every way it affects me.
She knows how to both urge me out of my comfort zone and when not to push. It’s something that comes easy to her, and I will always be grateful for that.
“Me and that Moscato will hold you to it then,” Vanessa says, teasing me with a chastising point of her finger. “Have a good weekend, Vic.”
Nodding, I smile for her in return, feeling that usual warmth from our friendship moving through me. “Have a wild weekend for me. I’ll see you Monday.”
With a mock salute, Vanessa says her final goodbyes before leaving me to it as her steps recede down the empty hallway.
Letting go of a gentle breath, embracing being alone again, I refocus on the tasks at hand: cleaning up books, tidying the desks and classroom supplies, and finally sitting down to put the following week’s plans together.
It may be mundane and a bit monotonous, but with some music playing quietly from my laptop, I find myself in a soothing rhythm.
Every task, significant or not, helps me feel grounded, like everything is real and I’m not just dreaming up some kind of ideal life for myself.
There’s no shouting, doors slamming, or being blamed for things I had nothing to do with. No walking on eggshells or wondering when the other shoe will drop.
Instead, I have my place, I pay my own bills, and I have a fulfilling job that helps me get out of bed in the morning.
It all seems so simple…so basic, and almost a given to most people. But for me, it’s everything.
After everything I experienced as a kid and a young woman, I never thought I’d ever reach that level of confidence.
I never thought healing would be possible for me. But since making those moves for myself, reaching that state of equilibrium is not only tangible, but I have first-hand proof that it’s possible. And I made it possible.
After getting lost in my work, I stretch my arms over my head with a yawn, finally breaking out of that concentration. Rubbing at my eyes, I glance out the window to find the sky darkening quickly, streaked with deep blue tones fading to pure black.
Taking that as my cue to call it a night, I collect my things, slipping my coat on before slinging my purse over my shoulder.
Once everything is locked up, I move through the halls, finding them more eerily silent than before. With darkness shrouding my surroundings, I pull in a deep breath and continue, silently reminding myself to relax.
It’s fine…the halls are the same as during the day. It’s perfectly safe.
Heading out one of the rear exits, I see my breath puffs out around me while the cold evening air settles in my bones.
The amber light overhead throws long shadows across the pavement that almost seem to grab at me while I move. To my right, the janitor’s truck is parked closer to the dumpsters, offering me the slightest comfort.
Still, I quicken my pace, feeling as if every hair on my body stands on end.
Regardless of my past, I don’t normally frighten so easily, but something feels different. Like something is off, but I can’t pinpoint why yet.
As the distance between myself and the car dwindles, I dig into my purse for my keys, pulling them out with the usual jingle that seems much more grating at the moment.
My heart is in my ears, thudding like someone is chasing me.
But I’m alone…nobody’s around.
That thought dissolves the moment it sounds like there are two sets of footsteps. As if mine are echoing.
Surely that’s all it is…
The moment I pause, my footsteps fall silent. But the others don’t.
My breath catches as I freeze, wondering if I’m just imagining it. Yet, they continue. They start multiplying.
Several sets approach me from behind, and before I can will it away, I glance over my shoulder.
Multiple figures step out of the shadows, all dressed darkly. Their measured steps and the clouds of their breath in the air immediately force away the idea of anything supernatural or unexplainable following me.
No…the reality is almost scarier. Far more dangerous.
My heart pounds so loudly in my chest that I half expect it to give out as they approach.
They’re all huge and silent while they move, faces distorted by the darkness shrouding everything. I can’t see anything on their clothing to distinguish who they are. No logos, badges, or uniforms…they certainly aren’t officers. They all look blank, as if the shadows had come to life.
Swallowing hard, I glance between them and my car.
Only a few more steps…if I can just get to it, maybe then I’ll have a fighting chance…
Quickening my steps, my pulse roars in my ears, and every movement I make feels sharp and disoriented.
Fumbling with my keys, I try to focus on getting there…reaching the car and calling the police.
Just before I can reach the driver’s side, one of them steps in front of me, cutting me off.
My eyes widen, and I recoil back, trying to retreat, but only to find the others flanking the other side.
Trembling, I look up at the tall figure, able to feel that panic set in, grappling at the edges of my sanity.
“Who are you?” I manage, voice quiet and tight. Instinctively, I hold my purse out. “I don’t have cash, but just…take it. I don’t have anything else…”
But the man doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he takes another step towards me. I take one back, and my heart stutters.
“Please…”
“We’re not here for your belongings,” he mumbles, voice low.
My breaths leave me in shaky pants. “…then what do you want?”
Again, silence.
Glancing around, the others are herding me, and the darkness surrounding them doesn’t help to make them look any less ominous.
The panic coursing through me wraps around my throat, preventing me from saying anything more. From screaming or many any moves to try and escape. The hopelessness accompanying it is stifling.
It’s been a while since that kind of anxiety reared its head, but it’s all too familiar. All too real.
Then he comes into view.
The group instinctively parts as a man taller than the rest appears at the center, giving off a distinct air of authority. His presence is loud and domineering, yet somehow still calculated and shadow-like.
My heart nearly stops at how beautiful and savage he looks all at once.
Tall, well-built with dark hair and a jaw sharp enough to cut…everything about him looks intentional, down to his trimmed stubble and measuring gaze. And god, those eyes…steely blue and domineering to the point of nearly pinning me on the spot.
His expression is unreadable, yet something tells me he isn’t a man to be messed with.
Both tempting and menacing, part of me only wants to see more of him, while the rest silently demands I run as far away as possible.
His eyes lock with mine, and just as I open my mouth to speak, a strangled sound escapes me as something pricks my neck, and an icy feeling courses through me.
Startled, I blink through the strange sensation, whirling around to see a brief flash of light bouncing off something shiny—the sharp point of a needle.
My blood immediately runs cold as the seconds tick by, and nobody says a word while it all sets in.
Little by little, my vision begins to blur, and my heart slows despite my panic. My breath almost echoes in my ears as I try to stay steady, but it’s no use.
Not when I can’t feel my limbs.
“Easy…” a rough voice murmurs as everything shifts around me, and I struggle to focus through the muddled mess in my head.
But even through the disorienting haze, I see his face.
Those blue eyes stare back at me, both captivating and fatal all at once. Both a beacon and something to fear—to run from.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, never once taking his gaze away from me, even while his voice starts to grow distant. “…just let go…”
As much as that voice in the back of my mind is screaming for me to do the opposite and to cling to consciousness, the thought of giving in is far too appealing.
With a pleasant warmth moving through me, I let my eyes slip shut, only to see traces of his face lingering in that bottomless darkness.