Page 7 of Into The Darkness

We sat on the couch, and Maddy turned toward me.

“Seriously though, how did you score an off-campus apartment? Did they change the rules from last year that suddenly freshmen are able to live in town? I thought they had to live in the dorms their first year.”

“No. My dad just wanted me to be safer, so he managed to convince the admin that I needed to be off campus.” She narrowed her eyes at me, and I let out a small chuckle.

“He used to be the president of the Alphas, so I think he has some pull,” I added.

“Ah. That makes so much more sense.” She chugged her beer, and I gazed out the window.

“I love this view,” I added to the conversation.

“To be honest, it’s kinda creepy. The girl that I shared a dorm with last year went to a party in the woods once and never came home,” she confessed while pulling at her long red curls.

Wait . . . what?She said it so nonchalantly, as if people went missing often.

“She like . . . disappeared?” I asked, to clarify or maybe confirm that I misheard her.

“Totally. Weird, huh?” she said as she walked back into the kitchen.

No. That was terrible and very sad, and the way Maddy was acting wasweird. I didn’t understand how she could be so chill about it, but I would not press it because, again, I was trying to make friends here. Maddy was my roommate, so we had to get along.

“Oh, shit. I am so sorry.” I couldn’t even imagine how tragic it must have been to have your roommate missing.

“It’s cool. Honestly, it was never really my choice to be here, but my parents thought I needed to be far away from home.”

“Where are you from?” I asked, grabbing a coaster and setting the drink down on the wooden coffee table. Moving on to a conversation that felt a little more normal had me thankful.

“I’m from up north a bit from here. I was involved with the cool kids in high school. I was a big cheerleader but never felt like I fit in so I spent my time here with my roommate. When she died, all her friends ditched me and then I was involved in a pretty shitty crowd. It was kinda just downhill for me. Did some drugs, drank a lot, and sucked at school, but I am working on getting better.” I leaned back on the couch and glanced at her scars on her fingers.

“It’s a long story.” She stared at me, and I nodded.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I just grew up—”

“Sheltered?” Maddy finished for me.

“How could you tell?” This time we both laughed. “I am sorry that happened to you, all of it. Growing up, being forced here, your roomie last year, that sounds like a lot for one person to process.” Maddy nodded as she took a long pull of beer.

I continued to stare out the window as the daylight sank and night crept in.

“Anyway, we are going out this weekend to celebrate. Do you have a fake ID?” she asked, and I cocked my head to one side and stared at her, blinking.

She laughed again. “Of course you don’t. You look like my friend Lexi, so we will borrow hers.”

“I don’t know.” I rubbed my hands down my legs. “I am not really the partying type. I am here to get good grades and hopefully graduate Magna Cum Laude so that I can move onto my master’s program in Seattle.”

That was a lie. I hadn’t talked to Dad about this part of my dream, so I knew it was far fetched, but my roommate didn’t need to know about my overbearing dad yet.

“For English, right?” she asked.

“Absolutely. I’m aiming to become a writer in the future, but I wouldn’t mind being a bookseller, either.” Again, nothing my father knows, but I liked to dream big. Eventually, I’d be able to bargain my way into the freedom I’d always dreamed about.

I rose to dispose of my drink and placed the coaster back in its spot. Maddy watched me with furrowed brows, as though my actions were unusual.

“By the way,” I called from the kitchen, “aren’t you studying psychology?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Hey, are you like super obsessed with cleanliness or something?” Maddy teased, and I giggled.

“No, I just prefer things organized.” I shrugged, not holding back. It was a small part of the mental turmoil I’d grappled with after my mother passed away. I always feared misplacing items without her reminders, so I developed a fixation on cleanliness and order.

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