Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
IRIS
That night, I was studying in the University Library – a grand, three-storey building separate from the main university that took my breath away.
The rest of my classes had gone well – Literature, Biology and Chemistry – and the professors all seemed nice.
Though I will really need to put the work in for the sciences – all the formulae and chemical equations were not sitting well in my brain.
However, I found my thoughts preoccupied with one specific class. I couldn’t shake off the strange, unfamiliar feeling inside me. I shook my head, attempting to displace the unwelcome thought, and refocused on what I was doing.
Studying.
The sun had long since set, casting shadows across the dark campus.
Silvery moonlight filtered through the tall windows, and I sat in a cosy alcove lit by a small oil desk lamp.
I’d said goodnight to Adora earlier, who had explained that Rory was indeed her boyfriend.
Apparently, they’d met about a year ago.
He’d seen her in the dining hall one morning, wearing her bright pink bunny slippers, and instead of laughing, he’d complimented her.
He’d said it took courage to be that unapologetically herself.
She’d laughed when she told me and said it was love at first sight.
She told me that she’d be spending the night with him. She said it made more sense now to stay in his dorm, as he didn’t have a roommate, and made me swear at least five times that I didn’t mind, even going so far as to make me pinky-promise her.
And I meant it. I was happy that she was happy.
I’d completed my extra literature and mathematics assignments and closed the study guide with an exhale. Rolling my shoulders, I next pulled out my Moral Philosophy work.
I flicked through page after page of research and scanned my notes on nature versus nurture. I found the topic truly interesting – and the way Professor Locke had discussed the inner workings of the human psyche was… fascinating.
Before I could linger on the thought any longer, my foot brushed against something tucked beneath the desk.
Frowning, I nudged it with the toe of my shoe, more carefully this time.
I could feel something wedged in place, so I kicked it, and it suddenly gave way.
Whatever it was slid free with a soft thud, something loose dislodging and falling to the floor.
Slowly, I bent down and reached under the table. I patted around, feeling only the wooden floor and dust, and then my fingers closed around something.
Straightening up, I brought it into the light.
It was a roll of parchment, several sheets bundled together and tied neatly with a length of brown string.
Curious, I untied the string and laid the papers out flat on the desk.
Some of them looked so old that they were yellowed with age, their creases sharp, as though they had been read and reread so many times.
The top sheet caught my attention immediately.
It was a newspaper clipping, and it looked more recent than the others. A photograph had been printed beside the column, slightly grainy but still clear enough to make out the details.
It was a girl, probably around my age. She had light blonde hair that framed her face in soft waves. Her expression was caught somewhere between posed and candid, a small smile playing at her lips.
My eyes drifted back to the text.
It read:
“Student missing:
Isobella Way, age twenty, missing since Tuesday 7th.
Last known location: Her dorm room at Ashcroft University.
Anyone with information is encouraged to come forwards.”
Shuffling through the papers, I found another newspaper clipping about the same girl, this one including a physical description, details of her next of kin, and a small amount of information about her background.
It appeared that Isobella Way was a first-year philosophy student who vanished from the Island without a trace. The newspaper was dated last year and stated that her body was never found.
The next few clippings were more of the same: torn newspaper pages with information about the missing girl and pleas for answers.
‘Isobella Way,’ I whispered into the dark.
A sudden crash erupted behind me, echoing all around the room.
My body reacted before my mind could catch up, jumping to my feet so quickly that I sent my chair toppling backwards and slamming loudly against the floor.
Something pale flickered in the corner of my eye, and as I turned, I saw a flash of white darting behind one of the bookshelves.
A not-person.
Until now, I’d managed to ignore them. Or at least, I told myself I had. The sightings had been rare, and they’d never been as bad as the first. I’d learned quickly not to stare, not to react in any way. Just avert your eyes, breathe, and wait for it to disappear.
And, eventually, they always did.
But I hadn’t even been at Ashcroft for two full days, and this was the third.
It’s never been that frequent. Three is too many to dismiss as a coincidence.
Clearly, something was off about this Island.
Something felt wrong.
A quiet realisation settled over me – if I couldn’t ignore the not-people anymore, if Ashcroft was indeed full of them, then maybe it was time…
All my life, I’d chosen to shut down rather than face them head-on. It was easier that way. Safer.
Yet this time, a brand new feeling twisted in my gut… something I didn’t recognise – or maybe one I’d simply never allowed myself to feel before.
I was changing.
Since being here, since meeting Adora, my life had changed so much for the better, and I wasn’t about to let anything jeopardise that.
It’s almost as if everything that has happened in my life – all the tragedy and hardship, the tears and loneliness – had led to me being here, right at this moment… like I was needed here.
I left everything on the desk – my belongings, the newspaper clippings, my remaining sanity – and followed the white flash.