Page 82 of The Sea Witch's Son

MELODY

The college is more haunting at night.

The sharp glow of moonlight creeps through the arched windows, sending shadows screaming in every direction. The sound of dripping water fills the entryway, the pitter patter of rain against the roof adding to the gloomy atmosphere.

Adjusting the straps of my backpack, I duck into the corridor that leads to the sports facility. I glance over my shoulder every few feet, checking to make sure the halls are as empty as they seem.

The glass doors of the sports performance room greet me, the automatic lights flickering on overhead. I glance around the empty weight room, taking in the sterile equipment patiently waiting for the sweaty bodies to arrive.

My feet guide me past the spectator area and down the stairs to the right. The harsh lighting continues to flicker as I walk intonew sections, the faulty lighting adding a level of anxiety for the task ahead.

The floor drops into a small set of stairs that takes me to the lower level. Two distinct doors stand on either side of the hallway, each one sponsoring a single letter. Casting another glance over my shoulder, I quickly take the one on the right.

There are no automatic lights in this area, so I slip out my phone and cast my flashlight around the room. The light dances off metallic lockers, the rows of benches leading to the bathrooms and shower stalls running along the far wall.

Urinals hit my eye as I walk further into the men’s changing room, shining my flashlight along the lockers until I find the varsity section.

Dropping my backpack to the ground, I pull out a miniature camera. It looks like something you can buy for outdoor activities, a tiny square that connects to an app on my phone.

Clipping it onto the end of my book light, I carefully slide it through the slit near the top of the locker. The light illuminates the interior, offering me a grainy image through the live feed on my phone.

The bland wall of the locker stares back at me and I shift the camera until I can see the items sitting below. A bundle of spare clothes, a cap, some goggles and a towel rest peacefully at the bottom. I zoom in on the clothes, studying the cheap cotton material.

After a moment, I pull out the camera and move on to the next locker. I repeat the process over and over until I find the one that I’m looking for.

A smile hits my face when I spot the perfectly folded dress shirt and dress pants. A suit jacket takes up most of the camera’s vision, but I can just make out the glint of a gold ring buried inside the pocket.

Taking note of the locker number and location, I start packing up my things. The door suddenly swings open and I drop to the floor, quickly sliding under one of the benches.

The light from the hallway disappears when the door slams shut. I hold my breath, listening to the scuffle of feet as they draw closer.

BAM!

The guy’s foot smashes into a locker and I barely hold back my scream.

BAM! BAM! BAM!A rapid fire of furious kicking and swearing gets released, the sound echoing through the empty changeroom.

My ears are ringing by the time the guy stops. His heavy breathing fills the room, the harsh sound masking the thundering beat of my heart.

I don’t think, I don’t breathe as I wait for him to leave. Every ragged breath feels like it’s being pulled from my chest, suffocating me from the inside out.

The panic has me in a chokehold, the fear of being caught overriding the need to breathe.

After what feels like forever, the guy finally turns and shuffles further into the room. The strong scent of chlorine fills the room as he opens a door and slips through.

I gulp down a breath, gasping for air as I scramble from my hiding spot. Snagging my backpack from the ground, I’m about to hightail it out when a splash sounds from the pool.

Pausing with indecision, I turn and slowly creep towards the door.

Even through the narrow window, I can see the underwater pod lights illuminating the dark arena. Shadows slink in every corner, barely casting enough light for me to see the figure staring at the glistening water below.

“Finley?” The gasp slips out before I can stop it.

He’s wearing the same blue and yellow shirt he wore when we first met, but the easy smile and kind eyes are long gone. His arms are crossed, pulling the shirt tight across his broad back and offering a glimpse at the distress rippling below the surface.

I slip through the door before I can think about what I’m doing. It slams shut with an awful screech, announcing my presence and eliminating any element of surprise.

“It would seem my entrance has yet to improve.” Ignoring the pinch in my chest, I wander closer, “Something I need to start working on.”

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