Cris and I were heading to our first class, fingers tangled together, when we ran into Dorian and Shawn.
Today, I was more focused than ever. Maybe it was relief, or maybe because it was History—my favorite subject. Everyone knew that.
But then, without meaning to, I glanced around the classroom. My eyes found Cris. I'd noticed something was off this morning, but now it was clearer—she looked shaken.
She kept glancing around, confused, scared. Her eyes were red, dark circles beneath them like she hadn't slept.
I just wanted the class to end and to get her somewhere safe.
I wasn't the only one who noticed. Mr. Martin, our History teacher, spotted it too. Even though it was his first time meeting us, he saw right through her.
"Are you okay, Ms. Miller?" he asked.
She jolted so hard that even he looked stunned. Her eyes were filled with tears.
"Excuse me," she muttered, grabbing her bag and rushing out.
"I'm sorry. I need to check on her. She's my friend," I said. Mr. Martin nodded.
I found her outside, ear pressed to the wall.
I moved gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, but calmed when she saw me. Her eyes were pleading.
"Cris?" I said softly. She wrapped her arms around me, not a hug, more like she was hiding.
"Can you hear the whispers? I hear a woman scream," she whispered, trembling.
"I don't hear anything. But I've got you," I said, kissing her head.
She asked me to stay close. I stayed. After class, we sat in the canteen when Shawn and Dorian joined us.
We chatted until Shawn leaned in, frowning. He touched her forehead. "You're burning up. Are you sleeping at all?"
"Jesus, Shawn! Stop drawing attention!" she snapped. "I'm fine."
"You're not. Everyone sees it," he insisted.
Cris stood abruptly, clutching her books, and walked off.
"Give her space, jerk! No wonder you're single—with all those biceps and no tact," Dorian said, smacking his shoulder.
"Good one," I said, grabbing my stuff and chasing after her. She hadn't gone far.
"Wait!" I called. She flinched again.
"Are you okay?" I caught her, hands on her shoulders.
She covered her ears, looked up, then side to side, and leaned into me. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.
No one else was around.
"No. Do you want to see a doctor?" I asked gently.
She nodded. "Yes… I guess I need help." Her smile was small and nervous. This wasn't the same confident Cris I knew. She was afraid. And I wanted to help.
The doctor arrived, examined her, poured something from a small flask into her mouth, then handed me a prescription.
"She needs rest, that's all," he said, then left.
"See? Nothing to worry about," I told her, sitting beside her. "You'll be just fine." I smiled.
"I hope so. Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked, eyes soft and childlike.
I nodded. I ran my fingers through her hair until she fell asleep. My eyes soon grew heavy too.
Some time later, I forced them open again. Everything was blue. Pressure built in my chest. I was choking.
I was underwater, and it stretched endlessly.
I looked around and tried swimming up, but couldn't tell where the surface was. I swam toward the light.
Then a vine shot toward me like a predator and wrapped around my ankle.
I kicked, but it held tight.
Just as I began to lose breath, a woman with long blue hair swam out of the dark. Her eyes were just as blue. She looked about my mother's age.
"Don't be a fool. You're killing yourself!" she cried, pulling at the vine.
Then another voice echoed, soft and melodic. "Don't be afraid of yourself. You can survive this. I believe you will. Don't let your strength scare you. Don't mistake it for weakness."
I turned and saw her—young, beautiful, white hair flowing in the water, eyes blue and unblinking.
"I…" I tried to speak, but nothing came. I was numb. The only thing that broke through was a voice calling my name.
"Zinnia!"
It grew louder until I gasped awake, coughing, soaked, and shaking from the cold.
Dorian knelt beside me, wrapping me in a towel and rubbing my back. His eyes were full of panic.
I looked around. I was on the floor in my room.
"I… how did I end up here?" I asked, confused.
"Cris said you were—" He paused, staring at me like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Are you alright?"
I nodded.
"Do you think you can make it to class?" he asked softly.
I nodded again. He stood and turned to leave.
"Dorian," I said.
He turned, pausing.
I walked up to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," I whispered.
His lips curved into a quiet smile. "You should call me Don," he said, eyes dropping just enough to send a flutter through my chest.
I smiled back, a little nervous. "I'll... see you in class."
I let him leave, then walked toward the bathroom, still dazed. But I stopped.
There it was—a mark on my ankle. A dark ring, like something had gripped it too tightly.
The memory hit me: the vine, pulling me under.
How was I back in my room? And if it was just a dream… why was I soaking wet?
More questions. I shoved them aside and rushed toward class.
The walkway was empty. Everyone must have already gone inside. But just before I reached the door, I heard footsteps running away.
I froze. Turned. The sound came from the right hall.
I followed it. At the end, I found a tall brown gate with a pointed arch.
Like every student's door, it had no knob. No lock. Just a weight in the air that made me hesitate.
Then I heard something. Not footsteps or voices—mechanical. Like gears turning.
I pressed my ear to the door. The moment my hand touched it, it groaned and creaked open.