CHAPTER 14
The feeling of being watched pricked at my skin.
I peeked through the shower curtain, but the bathroom was empty save for me.
At this time of night, it should be. Ever since Blaze had publicly humiliated me my first week here, I’d been taking showers late at night, the later the better.
It was nearing midnight now, which was the best time to take showers since no one wanted to be caught out of their dorms once the clock tower tolled twelve.
I always made it back to my own room in time, but the closer to midnight it was, the less chance I’d run into Blaze, Alma, or any of the other students out for my blood.
Chalking up the eerie prickly feeling to paranoia, I finished my cold shower and quickly toweled off my body.
Unlike a lot of the students, I didn’t feel comfortable strutting up and down the halls in only a bath towel, so I always brought my pajamas with me.
They were school-issued, of course, consisting of black yoga-style pants and a white fitted t-shirt.
I put them on, not bothering with a bra.
Collecting my things, I made for the sinks and quickly brushed my teeth.
With minutes to spare, I poked my head out of the bathroom.
All clear. Tiptoeing down the hall, I made for the end and soundlessly opened the door to my tower.
As it shut behind me, I breathed easier, relieved that I’d managed another hassle-free shower.
Navigating the five flights of stairs without a light had become the norm for me, so I slid up them in the dark, confident I would sleep like the dead tonight for the first time in weeks.
My training session with Thorne earlier today had been eye-opening, to say the least. We’d both admitted to things, things that I couldn’t stop replaying in my head.
But despite how preoccupied my mind had been after that session, finally knowing who had left that bloody message on my mirror was a huge relief.
The threat had been real, but Thorne had only meant for it to scare me into leaving.
I’d thought for sure it had been a death threat from Blaze or Alma, so knowing it wasn’t them would allow me to sleep a lot more soundly.
I’d just reached the top of the stairs when that feeling of being watched skittered over me again. I paused and listened. When there was no sound of anyone following me up the stairs, I moved to the door and raised my hand, swiftly uttering the spell that would open it.
“Sesamum, te aperi.”
Yes, making the password open sesame was kind of lame, but it was easy to remember and better than no protection at all. At least it kept unwanted visitors out, which was everyone here.
As the spell fell away, I opened the door just as the clock tower started to toll. Bong. Well, that was close. Maybe I shouldn’t push my showers back quite so close to midnight.
Shutting the door behind me, I did my usual cursory sweep of the room, double-checking that all was as I’d left it.
Even with the protections in place, remaining cautious had kept me alive this long.
I didn’t take any chances and would continue to be careful, even with the knowledge that the mirror message had only been a scare tactic.
I checked the room over. Once. Twice. Everything was in its place, down to the flickering candles on my desk.
As I focused on those candles, something about my desk made me pause.
Crossing to the bed, I set my towel and toiletries down before moving toward the desk.
Only the candles and a solitary spellbook covered the scratched brown surface.
My notebook was on the bed, along with my other school-issued supplies.
But there was something off about the spellbook. It looked the same, but the longer I stared at it, the more uneasy I felt.
“It’s just a harmless book,” I scolded myself. “You’re sleep deprived and paranoid.”
But the feeling wouldn’t fade. It grew and grew, twisting my stomach into knots as the bell continued to toll. Bong.
Annoyed that I was starting to feel unsafe in my own room again, I swept over to the book and picked it up.
“See? There’s nothing to—”
A sharp bite of pain stung my palm. Startled, I glanced down just as a thin red line stretched across my skin.
When blood seeped out and pooled in my hand, I dropped the book and stumbled back.
As it thumped to the stone floor, pain sliced through my other palm.
I lifted that one too, shocked when another thin line ripped open my skin.
Blood leaked out, quickly forming a little puddle, and I rushed to the bed to grab my towel.
But when I wrapped my hands in the white fabric to staunch the bloodflow, another sting lit up my flesh, this time on my wrist.
“What the hell?”
I watched with growing alarm as more blood slid out of me.
Before I could press the reddening towel to the cut, another flare of pain sliced through my other wrist. Blood seeped out and dripped to the floor from both wrists, and when another cut formed a few inches higher only seconds later, panic started to set in.
Bong.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
Bong.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
By the time the bell had finished tolling twelve, I had more than a dozen cuts up both arms. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor, leaving my body at an alarming rate. When pain sliced through my neck, followed by the warmth of trickling blood, I knew I was in trouble.
“Stop!” I yelled at the cuts, only for another to form moments later. “Cessa!”
Terror gripped me when nothing I did slowed the cuts from forming. One sliced across my sternum, and I watched in horror as my white shirt bloomed red.
“Amulet, protect me. Pentacle, save me,” I chanted, reaching up to grasp the necklace with bloodied fingers.
Cut. Cut.
The darkness within me stirred, drawn awake by the threat and my fear.
For once, I didn’t try to shove it back down right away.
I called to it, beseeched it for help, my desperation to stop these cuts overriding everything else.
It immediately came to my aid, rising up and manifesting into angry billowing shadows.
They curled and whipped around my body, seeking out the threat, prepared to eviscerate it.
But the more they sought, the more confused they seemed to become.
Cut. Cut.
The shadows faltered, unable to find the threat’s source. They started to recede, to fade, and my alarm grew tenfold.
“No, don’t leave. I need help!” I shouted at them. They sank into my skin once more, abandoning me to my fate. “Seriously?”
A wave of weakness stole over me, making me sway on my feet. No, no, no, no. I was losing too much blood. I was going to pass out soon if this didn’t stop. Or worse.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror across the room, mortified by my bloodied state. Death by a thousand cuts came to mind, and as another one painted my shirt red, fear sealed my throat shut.
Go! a voice whispered, little more than a distant echo.
It sounded so much like her that I suddenly knew exactly what to do.
Stumbling across the room, I ripped open the door.
My bloodied fingers lost their grip, and the door loudly banged against the wall.
I didn’t bother shutting it behind me, tucking my bleeding arms close to my chest as I staggered down the five flights of stairs.
More than once, I almost slipped and fell in the dark.
A fall down these stone stairs would definitely break a few bones, maybe even my neck.
I definitely didn’t need that on top of everything else.
Every few steps, a new cut sliced through my skin, allowing blood to saturate my clothing and leave a trail in my wake.
I winced each time, the cuts starting to burn the more I moved.
By the time I made it to the bottom, I was sweating, my breaths ragged and my heart frantically pounding.
I needed help. Help.
But when I closed in on the nearest dorm room, I stumbled right on past. They couldn’t help me. They wouldn’t help me. At the next door, I did the same thing, knowing in my bones that not a single soul in Jade Wing would come to my aid.
Dimly aware that I was breaking the out-past-midnight rule, I moved down the hall as silently as I could. Every few steps, a new cut burned my flesh, making me grit my teeth in pain. I kept going, kept dragging my body forward one step at a time. Just one more step. One more.
I didn’t encounter a single soul as I staggered through hallway after hallway.
Not even the professors were out. It felt like I was the only one here, and a huge part of me feared that I’d pass out in these hallways, that no one would find my body until morning when it was too late.
I’d be bled dry by then, dead by a thousand cuts.
Such a death seemed tragically beautiful, but I could also be growing delusional from all the blood loss.
Seconds became minutes became hours. At least, it felt that way.
It felt like I’d been stumbling down hallways and lumbering up stairs for days.
They never ended, and I silently cursed how massive this campus was.
Eventually, the pain and blood loss got the best of me.
I hit the stone floor hard, too weak to stand any longer.
So close. I was so close. I could feel it. See it. Only one more step. One more.
But I was spent. Trembling, exhausted, and racked with pain, I tried calling out and failed, my mouth drier than a desert. Frustrated, scared out of my mind, I did the only thing I could. I crawled. Inch by inch, I pulled myself forward.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
I dragged myself through my own blood, leaving a garish red streak in my wake. The blood was getting darker now. Not a good sign.
One more. Just one more.
Darkness edged my vision, making the hallway narrow and narrow. My frantic pulse began to slow, skipping every few beats. I dug my nails into the stones and pulled, desperate not to die in this blasted hallway. Not after everything I’d been through to get here.
A scent came to me anyway, settling over my skin like bitter smoke. Terror shot through me. Dirt. No. Decaying leaves. No. Despair. No!
I’m here, death breathed on my neck, scraping its icy fingers up my back.
NO!
I wasn’t ready!
Just one more . . . One more step.
I collapsed in a heap, the last of my strength leaving me. As my vision went black, I raised my hand—one last effort, one last stubborn attempt to survive—and let it fall against the door.
Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. Days.
The door clicked open.