I run up the last floor and shiver as I get into my room. Without the fire from the common room heating me up I feel the chill down to my bones.
I go to my wardrobe and pull out my cardigan and with it comes asmall box of tat I brought from home. I groan as I shove my arms through the woollen sleeves then bend down to pick up all that has scattered across the floor.
I freeze when my attention lands on an old photobooth print from four years ago. It was a night I let Marlowe talk me into sneaking out with her and we went to the bowling alley in the next town over. It was the only night I remember having a carefree time with my half-sister, one where we didn’t talk about home, we weren’t Marlowe Astor and Ruella Griffith, we were just two sad, lonely girls, needing to blow off steam.
My fingers run down the four photos of smushed up faces, the smiles gracing them the realest they ever had been before. I feel my eyes burn.
I swallow the lump in my throat and try to latch onto that happy memory, it lights a fire in my belly.
What happened to Marlowe?
I will find out, not only for my father. But for me as well. I need the closure too.
I pick up the picture and make my way to the side of my bed, where I place it between the pages of my current read sitting on my nightstand. I want to remind myself why I am here every single day. Every time I try to relax within the pages of my break from reality, I want to be reminded of my actual one. One I need to stay focused on.
I switch off the light and crawl into bed with thoughts of Marlowe on rerun.
“I promise I will find you,” I whisper into the void before I start to drift off.
I promise.
***
Friday comes and goes uneventfully.
Apart from Darcy whispering with her pack of clones and smirking, making it clear it is about me, everything runs smoothly.
On Saturday morning I decide to go for a run and maybe check out the school gym to blow off some of this built-up steam that has slowly amounted as the week progressed. Between the strange feelings Asher draws from within me, Darcy’s taunts and Mr. Chapmans piercing gaze every time I am in his lecture hall, I have this tension within me I would usually take out on a punching bag.
I pull my hair into a high ponytail and pull on the Academy hoodie, before slipping on my running shoes and grabbing my headphones. The sun has barely risen by the time my feet hit the stone pathway outside of the main building and I softly stretch my legs before taking off down towards the sports centre. It’s not far, but I can do a couple of loops around before heading inside.
I click the volume up on my phone to drown out my rolling thoughts, but even my favourite workout playlist can’t keep them from drifting to a certain man whose eyes follow me whenever we are in the same room.
I keep thinking of his reaction when I asked about his sister, I get that brothers can be protective, but this was something else. Along with his anger, there was a flicker of something else. Fear…. maybe. An instant fear for her that is way beyond that of someone with a mental health issue.
I don’t have any proof yet that this is connected to Marlowe, but I have a feeling in my gut that there is something that ties it together. It can’t be a coincidence that this all happened around the same time. I vow to myself to find out what the traumatic thing Asher’s sister went through was, I just have to catch her alone.
I run past the surrounding trees blocking the pathway from view and head down the route past the sports centre, my feet pounding along with the beat of the music as I try my best to control my breathing.
The air ischilly. So cold that with each puff out of my mouth, a mist forms like a spectre. The days usually warm up slightly, but at this time in the morning the constant grey clouds keep all the warmth away from this place. It’s like the ground itself is cursed to never feel the glorious rays. As tragically beautiful as Marrowton Academy is and its grounds, it feels hollow. Like a graveyard.
I am almost at the end of the forest path where it loops back up to the sports centre, when an icy chill spreads up my spine.
Someone is watching me.
While I keep jogging, I scan the tree line and pathway in front of me. Nothing.
I slip my hand into my hoodie pocket where my phone is, and I quickly click down the volume but keep the headphones in place. I listen carefully as I make the turn back to the centre and keep scanning the area without raising suspicion.
Still nothing.
But…I still feel eyes on me.
I pick up my pace as I see the sports centre come into view just past the collection of trees up front. My frantic heart starts to calm at the thought that I will be within the safety of the Academy. Next time I will stick to running in the busy areas and not on this quiet pathway again.
I am almost into view when I am suddenly taken out sideways by a body, and a heavy weight pins me to the dirt floor. I hiss out as I feel the stones and bramble cut through my hands and knees from the force. I immediately go to turn on my attacker and fight but one of their hands lifts my head by the ponytail and the other grabs at my right arm and bends it behind my back, the tension so taut, that one slight shift would dislocate my shoulder.
It’s a man. I can feel it in their weight and build. I have sparred and trained with enough of them to tell thedifference, and whoever this man is, he is strong…. much stronger than me. The position he has me in, is all too familiar, and makes me start to panic. But panicking won’t help me. It didn’t then and it won’t now.
