Chapter 1 #2
I pull my phone up and shine it through the small hole.
It looks similar to the hallway I’m in, except the walls are all brick.
There are torches along the wall lighting up the tunnel to show random clusters of papers, but nothing that shows another way in.
But, something feels almost… familiar about these hallways.
I hesitate for a moment, trying to pin the familiarity, but come up empty.
I pull the flashlight away, shaking the peculiar feeling.
I catch a glimpse of something in my peripheral vision and turn my head slightly.
I press my eye tightly against the hole, and see an old picture.
I cringe as I pull my face away. I exhale and offer the sign of the cross across my body as I nervously stick my arm into the hole, praying to whatever supposed God that I don’t get my fingers bitten off by a rat.
I bend it into the hole and feel against the other side of the board, searching for the photograph.
I feel the corner of it grazing roughly against my fingertips.
“Almost…” I close my eyes as I stretch as far as I can, pressing the tip of my pointer finger on its edge and sliding it carefully on the ground back toward me.
It catches for a moment, and I exhale a harsh breath as I push my shoulder against the board, stretching my arm to an uncomfortable length.
I pinch it with my fingers and smile as I pull my arm out of the hole with the photograph in my hand.
I shake it off and place it in the back pocket of my jeans to look at later.
I glance down the tunnel one last time in case I missed anything else and sigh, knowing I can not reach the other pieces of paper.
I’ll have to come back down here with an axe or even a pry bar.
I scoot onto my knees and wipe my hands on my thighs as I stand up.
I turn around, coming face-to-face with the priest of the campus, Warren Brown.
I tilt my chin up to meet his dark, almost black eyes.
His thick eyebrows furrow in disdain. He is clad in all black, the fabric smooth and pristine even amongst the dust of this lower level.
I startle, squealing, as my back hits the boarded tunnel.
The sudden movement loosens dust that powders on the tops of our heads from the ceiling.
I flinch as I watch some of it cover his perfectly styled hair.
He doesn’t move. He just stares at me, unamused, as I bashfully scratch my head and glance up at him.
“I was uh—“ I stutter, trying to find any excuse for why I was on a forbidden part of campus, coming up short.
“Miss Gates, any excuse you may have been considering to offer me for being on this level of the building surely wouldn’t be a good waste of breath now, would it?
” I snap my mouth shut and nod. “I would hope that I would not find you down here again. You may be new to this campus, but Hollowbrook does not tolerate any breach of rules. Our campus prides itself on dedication, diligence, and discipline. This will be your only warning, Miss Gates. Will we be having an issue this semester?” I shake my head, and he lifts an eyebrow at me. “No, sir,” I state quietly.
He takes a step backwards and turns to the side, lifting his arm toward the stairs, and I walk past him. My heart races at his presence. My first encounter with the man is off to a stellar start. Great first impressions, Grace.
Something feels unnatural about his presence, though. Or maybe it's the suspicion from the tales of this campus I continue to overhear. I turn my head slightly to look at him behind me when I catch a glimpse of the red I swore I saw earlier.
Except this time, I know what it is. It’s not a rat, no.
Or a reflection from the stained glass windows.
It’s a woman. My heart stops. I falter my steps as I stare directly into the golden eyes of a softly glowing red-headed woman leaning against a desk.
She’s glowing? She has a slight frown on her face as she looks at me, her brow slightly raised with shock on her features.
My jaw drops, quickly changing from confusion to awe of her beauty.
Her face is scattered with freckles, and her red hair is full of luxurious curls that cascade down her arms, stopping at her waist. Her nose is slightly upturned, while her lips are perfectly pursed and full.
She is perfection. I go to take a step toward her, feeling myself instantly drawn to her.
There’s no rhyme or reason for the pull, but it’s almost as though my body moves of its own volition.
“What is it?” I hear behind me, startling back into reality. I glance over to see the priest’s eyebrows pinched together in judgment. I have no words, completely struck back by what I think I saw. “Words, Miss Gates. Use them,” he reprimands me. I look back into the classroom to see it empty.
My brows knit together as I mumble, “Nothing, sorry.” He replies, but I’m already lost in my thoughts, hearing nothing.
I shake my head and proceed forward as I attempt to process the beauty of the woman I just saw in that classroom.
But why was she glowing? Why did she feel…
familiar? I climb up the stairs, settling the reasoning on the reflection of the old windows for the glow on her body.