Page 80 of The Oath We Give

The hairs on my neck stand up as I sprint through the colonnades of the Kennedy District. The rain splatters against the cobblestone, thunder rumbling in the distance.

Shadows from the Ponderosa Forest in the distance shift in the night, their trunks twisting in the wind like gnarled fingers beckoning me forward. Wails from the rushing Pacific scream from just next to me, the saltwater breeze pouring in through the archways. Gargoyles standing guard over the campus illuminate when the lightning strikes and seem to move when they are plunged back into darkness.

We invite success,the decades-old university motto reads.

The only invitations ever sent out for this place are to hell.

It is built on bones and cracked teeth. Bloody secrets soak the pages of books in the Caldwell Library. Travesty and betrayal leak from every statue and fountain on the grounds.

This is where people send their children to become great leaders, only to be surprised when they become corrupt, money-hungry animals instead.

A part of me is glad I never graduated from here.

It’s eerily silent when I push through the heavy mahogany doors. Each footstep echoes for miles down the dark corridors. It smells like dread, and a part of me is afraid to admit that I’m scared to slow down in fear of catching a glimpse of a ghost.

The alarm on my phone almost makes me leave my skin. The resounding noise piercing the silence reminds me that I’m out of time to hide. Quickly, I dip into one of the closed classroom doors on the first floor of the English department.

The door slams behind me as I move across the room. It’s an auditorium-style classroom, with endless rows of seats to my left. Knowing I have to send Silas a clue soon, I decided to hide behind the professor’s desk.

My train of thought is that Silas will be opening doors, peering inside each of them to find me. So I slide my back down the side of the desk, letting the large piece of wood hide me from the door.

It does, however, leave me facing a wall of tall windows that looks out onto the campus square. Surely, he wouldn’t walk around outside in the rain.

With no time to change my mind, I open my phone, shooting him a text. My pulse is in my thumb as I type, heartbeat thudding in my ears. I hadn’t expected this to be so fucking intense, but once we all took off from the parking lot, it turned into more than a game.

I’m being hunted.

Stalked and tracked by an apex predator rumored to stop at nothing to get what he wants.

“Rumor says if you walk where I’m hiding at midnight, you can hear the screams of a girl whose unrequited love made her take her own life.”

The whoosh of my text being sent rings out in the quiet room.

I quickly remove my leather jacket, feeling stupid for wearing it, knowing I was going to be running, and toss it in front of me. I place my phone to my chest, listening to my heart beat in my ears, trying to catch my breath, and my head tilts back, hitting the wooden desk behind me.

My eyes focus on the show of electric light dancing across the sky, the sweeping darkness and wind that dance outside Hollow Heights’ courtyard.

There was no real reason why I agreed to this. Not a good one anyway.

I was sitting on the floor scattered with paint-stained tarps, staring at a blank canvas while trying to decide if I should just order Thai food and watchThe Great British Baking Show, when Lyra sent yet another text message. I wasn’t going to come.

And then, this little thing.

A sparkle.

It flared and shot across my chest like a falling star. A glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could forge friendships. That this could be a chance to not be so fucking alone.

When I tried integrating back into my old life, visiting past friends, trying to move forward, I kept messing it up. I was too quiet or too harsh for friends I’d known since middle school. I wasn’t fun anymore.

This relieved a brutal truth about my future.

I’m not deserving of the life I once had because I’m a different person.

A meaner, colder version.

My isolation from people was from fear, the fear I saw in the mirror every morning when I woke up. It lived beneath my skin, roaches burrowing into my flesh, and only I could see it. Fear that I was not deserving of anything good, because I’m not good.

So many women I’ve met through Light are kind. Giving, nurturing hearts that smile through the horror of their experiences. They flourish like beautiful flowers, and people admire their strength. I admire their strength to still love and trust this world after what it did to them.

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