Page 3 of A Touch of Darkness

God, can I just take anything for what it really is? Must I always try to decode shit that doesn’t need deciphering?

The other girl, shorter with pin-straight blonde hair and a mischievous, red-lipped smile, waves at us. “Rebecca Cattell,” she chimes in, her voice light and teasing. “You two are fresh faces, right? I haven’t seen you around Blackthorne. Or maybe I’ve just been too self-absorbed, as Nicole likes to say.” She rolls her eyes and flashes a bright smile. They clearly have a playful dynamic—I’d almost think they’re at odds if not for the easy-going tone Rebecca exudes.

I smile at Rebecca’s easy confidence, though there’s something about her that reminds me of the quiet but constant hum in the air here, too. She seems... aware of things others might not be. It’s a feeling I can’t quite place. I’ve always been one to psychoanalyze everything. Interactions. People. Places. Everything and anything. I was hoping this could be a fresh start, but here I am, still trapped in my own, fucked-up head.

“I’ve never met twins before,” Nicole says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You guys are like twin-twins, too. What’s the secret to tell you two apart? There has to be something…” she trails off, looking both of us up and down, and Lara and I glance at each other. Sure, there are a couple ways people can tell, but we usually let them figure that out on their own.

“Nope,” Lara says. “We’re identical as identical can be.”

Once the twin discussion dies down, Lara and Nicole start talking about their classes, and though I try to stay involved, my attention keeps drifting.

I glance around, my gaze lingering on the ivy-covered walls, the shadows that seem to stretch unnaturally long in the late afternoon light. The sound of wind rustling through the trees makes the atmosphere feel even more surreal and mysterious.

And then, I see him.

He’s standing by a window at the far end of the courtyard, one hand resting lightly on the stone sill. His features are sharp, defined, and almost unreal, like he belongs in a painting—or maybe a dream. Dark, tousled hair falls just shy of his shoulders, curling a bit at the bottom and adding to the wild, untouchable air about him. His eyes—soul-piercing green—lock onto mine with a depth that feels both unsettling and magnetic, as though they can see right through me—can see how much he’s affecting me in this moment. Again. The darkness of his clothing contrasts with the pale stone of the window frame, and his long coat flares out behind him, giving him an almost ethereal presence, like a figure from an entirely different world. He leans slightly forward, as if he’s been waiting for something—or someone—and the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch in my throat. The way he stands there, like he’s somehow frozen in time, sends an inexplicable shiver down my straightened spine.

It’s like I’m drowning in the weight of his stare, the air tense with something I can’t quite name. The same guttural feeling that I had on the trek up to the university is back in full force, but there’s something peculiar about the feeling that washes over me. It’s undeniably haunting, yet at the same time, I’m drawn to him—I can’t look away.

I don’twantto look away.

The man’s expression is wholly unreadable, but there’s something about him... something familiar about the way he watches me that makes my skin prickle.

I blink, and when I look again, he’s gone.

What the fuck?

I shake my head and look around the courtyard, but it’s like he’s vanished.

“Hey, Sylvie,” Lara’s voice breaks through my dazed thoughts. “You okay?”

I look at her, the edges of my world still blurred by that strange, magnetic yet suffocating hold he had on me. “Yeah, just... thought I saw someone.”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “Was it a ghost? I swear, this place has that kind of ambiance, doesn’t it? You should’ve seen me during my first year. Constantly looking over my shoulder, having terrible nightmares…” She mock-shivers.

Nicole chuckles. “It’s just the history of the place. It’s been around for centuries. You can’t escape the true ghosts of the past here, no matter how hard you try,” she says, shrugging.

I force a smile, but my mind is elsewhere. The man in the window... that was him. I can't shake the eerie sense that there was more to that moment. But how did he just disappear so quickly?

I need to stop.

Breathe.

Everything is fine.

I try to shake it off as we continue talking with Nicole and Rebecca for a while longer, though my thoughts remain clouded. It’s hard to focus when that feeling—the feeling of being watched—won’t let go of me. I feel the pull again, faint but undeniable—like an invisible thread tugging me toward the man, although, I have no idea where he went. I rub my temples and try to remain in the conversation with the girls. I’d really love to not beSylvie the Weirdo—a name tagged on to my existence back in high school, born from my inability to form social connections.

We’re finally shown to our rooms by a friendly but somewhat distant upperclassman. It’s a quiet, transactional affair, no grand introduction. Just a simple walk through the corridors to our assigned dorm on the second floor of the West wing. I can’t help but feel a sense of relief when the door to our room closes behind us. The air in here feels lighter, but still, something gnaws at me.

I sit on the edge of my bed, but my mind is a flurry of confusion.

Who was that man? And why do I feel like I’ve seen him before?

Why do I feel like I’vetouchedhim before? Like I know him as intimately as I know myself?

I know I need to stop ruminating on the odd feeling of this place, of the man in the window. I need to not beSylvie the Weirdoat this place, too. I need this fresh start.

I wish I could shake the feeling, but something tells me it’s only the beginning.

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