Page 3 of Our Ruined Beginnings

“Welcome to Davis,” the girl says softly, but there’s an edge to her tone I don’t like. And when her lips split into a full grin, her eyes zeroing in on mine, bile crawls up my throat as anxiety takes hold. “I’d say good luck, but I don’t think luck will get you far. See you around.”

If I thought locking myself away in the safety of my dorm might help alleviate some of the unease bubbling inside of me, I was wrong. Unable to sit still, I clean—not that the sparkling room needs it—and my hands fidget with a cloth as I run it over every surface. It’s the only thing I can do to stop the girl’s words playing on a loop through my head. I wonder if it was her room next door that they were all leaving from, though I really hope not. There was something disconcerting about the way she spoke, as if she knew me … knew my story. And that isn’t a thought I want to let fester, because there is nothing good a person here could know about me.

I shake my head and drape the cloth over my shoulder, flicking my gaze over my dorm. The double room is small, with each inch of space being utilized for a purpose. Two small double beds sit on either side, both plain and devoid of personality. At the end of each bed, there’s a desk and a small wooden swivel chair. Mirrored wardrobes fill the rest of the free wall, with a small carpeted walkway in between, making each one accessible.

Surprisingly, I seem to be alone here.

Before the summer, I’d been excited to have a roommate. Someone new to talk to, to get to know, while we figured out how to live with one another. After all, it’s the reason Davis only offers double dorms for freshmen—to help avoid loneliness and encourage new friendships.

Now, I’m glad the world seems to have at least answered one of my many pleas and left me in blissful isolation, tucked away from my peers. The thought alone of having to make small talk with someone or having to share my space with a stranger makes me want to run and hide. Relishing the quiet, I push the stray thoughts from my mind and plan out the next week as I unpack.

I strip the plain white bedding provided and replace it with my favorite deep-green tufted set from home that I managed to stuff into my suitcase. Home may be far away now, but at least I have this one familiar comfort from my own space.

Over the next hour, I empty my cases, putting away the belongings Gregor and I deemed important enough to bring with me. The tedious task of finding space for everything calms me, as organizing always does, until I almost forget the girl outside with the evil eyes.Almost,but not quite. And when I run out of menial chores, she’s right there to fill my mind again.

Surely, I’ve made it worse than it was, like a memory you keep prodding at and exaggerating. She can’t really have sounded that sinister—like she was promising me hell just from a welcome. I don’t even know her.

I tell myself all of that, but I’m still not convinced by the time my stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me to eat. It’s been nonstop lately, the increase in activity meaning my body craves food, but my anxiety makes it hard to actually stomach anything more than a few bites at a time.

The sun is beginning its descent in the distance, so I grab my duffel by the door and make my way outside to grab some basic necessities. I’ve never had to do my own shopping, or look after myself at all, really, having lived with household staff my whole life. That’s one thing I’m looking forward to this year.

With a new spring in my step at the thought of that independence, I rush down the stairs, push the double doors open, and relish in the fresh air as it breezes over my skin. Perhaps this new school year can be everything I want it to be … that’s what I tell myself, but paranoia begins to tickle the back of my mind.

My gaze tracks over the open space, and I feel like everyone is watching me as I try to explore. Maybe it’s having been tucked away in my bedroom for so long, but I feel eyes on me everywhere. A few people cast glances my way as I pass, but nothing seems sinister or of anything other than simple curiosity. Still, it puts me on edge, and my enthusiasm begins to dwindle.

By the time I reach the canteen, my energy is zapped, and I decide to grab some dinner and work out the necessities tomorrow. It’s Mexican night, which is usually my favorite, but even that doesn’t alleviate my mood.

In another life, I’d have found a lovely little spot on the expanse of greenery surrounding the campus, plopped myself down with my burrito, and spent an unreasonable amount of time people-watching and enjoying the sunset. But today, I find myself rushing back to my dorm building.

The hallway is quiet as I walk through to my room, pulling my key out of my pocket as I go, but I don’t need it. Before I even get there, I can see the door is wide open, the bright fluorescent light flooding from the open doorway.

I debate stopping, turning around and leaving the empty hallway, but where would I go? There isn’t a person here who’d know me enough to take me in, so I have to face this on my own and hope it isn’t any more nefarious than a wrong-place situation for whoever let themselves inside.

Closing the distance, I shut my eyes for a moment, holding a steadying breath. Though, when I open them and step over the threshold, I wish I hadn’t. The space I’d spent hours tidying, personalizing it to feel like mine, is thoroughly trashed.

I stand in my open doorway, mouth slack at the carnage they’ve managed to create in such a short amount of time. What looks like every single item I systematically unpacked—toiletries, clothing, shoes, study supplies—have all been wrenched from their spots and piled high on top of my suitcases. Not before being ruined, of course. Shreds of material that used to be shirts and torn pages from textbooks litter the space. The culmination of my hard work this afternoon, undone and ruined.

My heart thumps hard against my chest as I try to understand what this means. It’s not some senseless vandalism, some opportunistic ruination. They’ve waited for me to leave, broken in, and ruined everything I own except whatever’s in the bag on my shoulder. Were they watching my room the whole time?

As the girl’s words come back to me, ringing around in my brain as I survey the mess, I wonder if she was the one who did this. And when I spin to shut the door, the writing scrawled on the mirror chills me to the bone as immediate understanding hits me.

You don’t belong here and you don’t deserve to stay!

There’s only one thing that could be about—one thing that would elicit this kind of hatred toward me.

For the first time since finding out I still had to come to Davis University, I let myself think of what being here really means, beyond the initial hardship of leaving my safe space and being somewhere new. I think about the other students here—the ones I know from before, and the ones I don’t.

Could it be the strange blonde from the hallway earlier? The one who wished me luck and seemed to know me? Or could it be someone else—someone whodoesknow me? Someone who knows all the worst things I’ve done in my life, and the one defining mistake that led to me being here,alone?

I block him from my mind as I take in the extensive damage. Shaking my head, I make quick work of clearing away what I can and grab a trash bag to toss what can’t be salvaged. It’s amusing, really, if I give myself a second to think about it, that someone thinks ruining my room and a few belongings would hurt me.

This is nothing compared to what I’ve done and what I’ve lost.

Chapter Two

Madden

Thecontentsofthered cup in my hand warm my mouth as I press the rim to my lips, dragging my gaze over the large lounge. Despite classes starting tomorrow, the room is full of writhing bodies, making the most of the last of summer.

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