“And what might yours be?” I nod my head over toward the record still playing.
“On Your Side by The Last Dinner Party.”
Time passes as we volley questions back and forth, settling comfortably onto the bedroom carpet. I’m lying on my side with my head propped up on my hand as she lies on her stomach with her feet kicking in the air behind her to the beat of the music. I’ve come to find that she’s terrified of spiders, loves the smell of pavement after a rain shower in the summer and scaring grown men, and she enjoys painting in the abandoned office room on floor 3 of the Baker building.
“I was once quite an enthusiast for baking. I had a fondness for cinnamon rolls in my time.”
I smile, wondering if that’s why she smells like cinnamon to this day. We hear a sudden door open and close. I jump slightly at the interruption. I look at my bedroom door and wait to hear my roommate knock,but all I hear is her shuffling toward her room and a door eventually clicking shut. I exhale and look back at Milly, only to find her gone. In her place is a note on the ground with the most perfect and familiar cursive penmanship:
I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, and I sincerely appreciate your company this evening. I trust you understand that I cannot remain. It is, I believe, for the best.
M
My heart sinks as I reread her words over and over again. It only takes the slightest break in our connection for her to pull away from me. I roll onto my back with the note over my heart and close my eyes. I wonder if Milly is secretly still in the room watching me. Maybe she just needs time and will appear again in a few days. I chew on my bottom lip at the thought of going days without seeing her again. My heart instantly starts to ache. I don’t want her to be scared of getting to know me and constantly pulling away. But why does she feel as though she has to?
I feel drawn to her. It can’t just be me. She has to feel this… invisible pull. The record clicks, and I reluctantly get up off the ground to switch it off. I busy myself with getting ready for bed in mindless motions as I daydream about the freckles on her collarbone. I slide out of my clothes, climb into my bed, and stare at the tall ceilings. “Goodnight, Milly,” I whisper in hopes she hears.
I fall asleep dreaming of cinnamon and rosy, freckled cheeks.
Chapter 7
Mildred
September 10th
She is perfection itself. Kind, compassionate, and earnestly intent on knowingme.If this is some twisted game, I find myself ever more eager to become entangled in its rules, even at the uncertainty of the pain it may bring upon me.
I watch her slumber under her quilt, my faint blue aura casting a soft, gentle light across the room. I float toward her without a sound, my hand hovering before her cheek. When I press it lightly against her skin, Grace shivers beneath me. I pull back swiftly, frowning at my own audacity.
Right person, terribly wrong time.
Chapter 8
Grace
September 11th
Iwake to my alarm clock beeping horrendously. I lift my hand out from under the covers, tapping randomly along the surface to stop the torturous sound. I groan when it finally stops and rub my hands over my eyes. Slowly peeking through my fingers, I glance around in hopes of seeing Milly lounging about, but there is no sign of her vibrant curls.
I roll over and drop my hands at my sides, staring at the ceiling. I have no idea what she’s been through, and I can imagine she’s choosing to avoid me for the simple fact that she’s a ghost. But she’s the first person I’ve been drawn to in years. Someone I finally want to continue to get to know, regardless of the forbidden nature of our situation. I sigh, climbing out of my bed. I’ve only just met her, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Unfortunately, thoughts of her fester in my mind as I get ready for the day until I can’t take it any longer. It’s the weekend, so all the buildings are vacant. The impulse to explore the hidden history of the campus is strong. If I couldn’t physically see Milly, maybe I could find out why she was still here.
I threw on some old clothes and grabbed socks from the drawer. The goal was simple—find potential clues between the spines of some old books. I step into the common bathroom and hear Jocelyn’s, my roommate, music softly echoing out of her room. I consider establishing some sort of relationship with her, but I hesitate, feeling entirely unsure and anxious to do so. I exhale and rub my hands through my hair.I’ve found that hiding myself completely around others is the safest route in religious environments.
I brush my long black hair up into a messy bun and pull some strands down to dangle around my eyes. I tousle my bangs for a few minutes and huff out a breath, deciding not to care about the slight curl to them today. I draw long, full wings on the corners of my eyes and load mascara onto my lashes. I smear concealer underneath my eyes. I chew on my lip, unsatisfied as usual, as the darkness really never disappears. At least the liner will be somewhat distracting. I grab my circle wire-framed glasses and turn quickly, avoiding staring at my reflection longer than necessary.
Heading back into my room, I shut the door softly not to entice my roommate to become curious and say hello. Maybe in my explorations, I’ll find Milly. I smile at the thought, and suddenly the idea of her seeing me in such drab clothes seems entirely unappealing. I ditch the old sweats and toss on a pair of black and grey plaid high-waisted pants, then buckle a leather belt around my waist. I tuck in my black turtleneck, avoiding the already messy bun as best as I can, and pull my rose necklace out to hang over the collar. Satisfied, I grab my bag and head toward the door.
I sneak out of my room, snagging my Doc Martens by the door, and step outside. I exhale a breath as I slide my feet into the boots and tie them up. I toss on headphones and click on my favorite playlist as I walk toward the library.
I glance up at the sky, grateful that the weather is holding itself together and remaining a cloudy day without rain. I scroll through my phone searching for anything I can about my mystery ghost. I type in Mildred Jones, nothing. Milly Jones? Nope. Hollowbrook mystery? Finally, I have a result.
I slow my pace and click on what appears to be a blog post. The blog appears to be lacking reputable sourcing, but the name Warren Brown catches my eye.
For a campus that prides itself on its devotion to Catholicism, the history of the prestigious college is jarring and shocking. The age-old tales of the Hollowbrook campus are the ones that will leave chills lingering under your skin.
The founder, Warren Brown, allegedly has been creating a cult within the campus walls. It is said that he would gather students and faculty members for private sermons, encouraging the supposed, unavoidable rapture that is spoken about in Revelation.
