*Aria*
I get to the lecture hall early like I always do on the first day of a new semester. The kind of early where everywhere's completely silent. The only sound you could hear was the low hum coming from the air vent. I like that silence. It was a small defiance. Arriving before the noise and eyes could find me.
I expected the weather to be cold, but not like this. My coat wasn't doing much either. I wrap it tighter around me and go straight to my usual seat. Second row from the back, right near the window. It has somehow become some sort of ritual. I choose that spot every time, craving the solitude that came with watching the city being lit as the early morning sun comes out.
The fabric on the cushion is worn thin. The wooden desk groaned when I lower it. Still, the isolation it offered was worth the discomfort.
The classroom had that familiar scent of dry-erase markers lingering in the air, mixed with the mustiness of old books. It stuck in my nose, making the usual tightness in my chest feel worse.
The professor arrives late, his tired eyes moving across the room like he'd done it a hundred times before with the quiet authority of someone used to being listened to. He doesn't say anything much. His voice is rough. A rasp that filled the cold air as he opens a page and reads the title 'international sociopolitical dynamics', which sounded like a brutal reminder of how tangled and broken the world could be.
Students started coming in. Some were still talking, their footsteps uneven. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor fills the room. I take out my notebook and pen, pretending to focus, though most of what he said faded behind the tight knot in my chest.
It was easier to seem busy than to invite questions I wasn't ready to answer. My gaze drops to the pages, scribbling notes no one would ever read. I keep my head down, the only shield I had against unwanted attention. The only armour that ever really worked. Eye contact led to words, words led to assumptions and assumptions were dangerous.
The lecture finally ends. Everyone gets up at once and rushes for the door. I stay back, taking my time packing up. I slide my pen into my notebook and zip my bag slowly. I'm just glad the day's over.
********************************
It was supposed to be a shortcut.
One of my roommates told me the old admin wing connected to the main building was a way to cut five minutes off the freezing walk between lectures. They'd laughed when they said it; half joke, half dare.
I took it anyway.
The hallway is dim and silent. There's no sign of anyone. Just flickering overhead lights and the sound of my boots on worn tile.
Then I hear a thud.
Not loud. But sharp enough not to miss. Flesh meeting something solid.
I slow, my breath tightening. There's a door ahead, barely open, glowing faintly from within. Voices drift out, low and tense. Russian, I thought. The words rolled too fast to catch.
I inch forward without thinking, drawn by instinct or maybe stupidity.
Through the small space, I see them: two men. One standing still while the other was slumped in a chair. The standing one moved like he's used to being obeyed. His shoulders squared, hands calm even as they curled into fists.
I should've walked away. I should've backed out and never looked again.
But I didn't.
I watch, long enough to see him pull something from his coat and press it against the man's throat. Not a gun. A blade.
The light caught its edge.
The seated man whimpered. The standing one didn't flinch.
And then I did the one thing I shouldn't have.
I gasped.
Quiet. Barely audible.
But he heard it.
He turned.
Eyes like storm glass locked onto mine through the crack in the door.
I froze. One heartbeat. Two.
Then I ran.
Aleksei**
There was a sound.
Small. Inhale-sharp. Unmistakable.
I turned and saw her.
It was just for a second, but it was enough to register what she looks like: A girl in long coat, with brown hair and wide eyes, frozen in place like she'd just stepped into a nightmare. Which unfortunately, she had.
She didn't scream. Smart.
She ran.
Smarter.
But not smart enough.
I stepped outside the room, into the hallway, but she was already gone.
Who the hell was she?
I hadn't seen her before. She didn't belong to any of the usual circles. Not student council, not internal surveillance, not any of the other polished, predictable little pawns who passed through this university pretending to understand power.
No. She was something new.
And now, she was a problem.
But problems can be... reshaped.
Or erased.
Depending on what they do next.