"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."
Alan froze, his dark eyes narrowing. From the very first glance, he knew, she wasn't human. Something about her aura screamed foreign, dangerous, intrusive. He turned away immediately, unwilling to waste his time, but her voice called out again.
"I'm Dana, what's your name?"
Her tone carried a strange mixture of confidence and careful curiosity. She seemed to expect an answer, but Allan had no patience for creatures like her. He kept moving, each step deliberate and dismissive.
Dana trailed behind him, her persistence irritating. When she reached for his hand, intending to stop him, his reflex was swift and merciless. In an instant, he reversed, seizing her wrist with a grip so tight and sudden that her body jerked forward. His fingers twisted her joint cruelly, as though testing how much pressure it would take before her bones snapped.
"A-ah!" Dana's scream tore through the air, but her loud screams made his eyes gleam, and he tightened his hold further, bending her wrist until her face finally contorted with genuine pain.
From the edge of the path, Elaine had been watching, her stomach knotting with unease. She hadn't planned to interfere her instincts told her not to but this wasn't just anyone, this was her new roommate. To stand aside and let Allan destroy her would count as an act of betrayal, on the very first day, and that was a mark of guilt she couldn't afford, she looked around if there was any staff in sight as they weren't far from the administration building, but that was tough luck .
Her heart pounded, and before she knew it, her legs had moved on their own, carrying her closer until her voice rang out.
"Allan, stop!"
The words left her mouth sharper than she intended, firm and commanding, like a mother reprimanding her child. "Let go of her wrist!"
Alan's lips curved into a slow, unsettling smile. Instead of obeying, he bent Dana's wrist further, almost savoring the defiance in Elaine's eyes, he wanted to see what she would do next.
When Elaine darted forward and tugged at Dana's arm, he finally loosened his grip, not out of mercy, but out of amusement. He let Dana slip free, watching as Elaine rushed to her side.
Then came the sound he never expected.
SLAP!
The impact cracked through the air. Alan's head snapped slightly to the side, and for a heartbeat, everything screeched to a halt.
Then he laughed, a dark, manic laugh that echoed through the space. Not because the slap had hurt, it hadn't, It was nothing more than a feather brushing his cheek. But the audacity of it, the boldness of her hand striking his face.
His laughter died down slowly, his gaze settling on Elaine. She stood in front of Dana protectively, her hands trembling, her courage withering like a dying flower, he saw her eyes wavering, the flicker of fear behind her bravado, and that weakness was almost as satisfying as the slap itself.
"I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to slap you," she stammered, her words tripping over each other.
Alan tilted his head, his grin stretching wider, malicious. The twitch of his stare sent a shiver racing down her spine.
"It was just… adrenaline," she muttered, fumbling for an explanation. "Besides…, haven't you heard to never hit a female"
The silence that followed pressed heavily on them, Elaine clutched Dana's wrist, tugging her along, She thought she could walk away, disappear before he would do something crazy. They were only a few steps away from escape when his hand shot out like a viper, clamping onto Elaine's arm.
Her breath caught in her throat, as he turned her to face him, his grip firm but not crushing. His eyes bore into hers, and suddenly her surroundings dissolved into a trance, but unlike the others where she would hear almost blurred out voices, they were vivid images, similar to each other.
She was no longer standing in the courtyard.
Images flooded her mind, vivid and unyielding.
A young man sat in a dimly lit room, his face carved with loneliness, he resembled Allan, though not entirely, the same sharp features, and eye color, then the vision shifted. another man, same room, the same oppressive solitude, again and again, different yet similar faces blurred together, all carrying fragments of him.
Finally, the last image struck her.
Allan himself, alone in a dark piano room, he was playing the instrument with full concentration, but his hands were crimson red with blood, staining the white piano keys red.
Elaine's breath hitched. The trance shattered as abruptly as it had come, at the lack of contact, leaving her dizzy, unsteady and confused. She stumbled back. Allan's eyes burned into her, blazing not just with fury, but with a raw storm of emotions.
Her heart stuttered in her chest. She couldn't meet his gaze.
Then his voice came. Low, cold, certain.
"Elaine Randolph, be careful where you tread… or I'll make your life here a living nightmare."
Every word weighed heavily on her. There was no bluff. No empty threat.
---
Later that night, Allan's steps echoed softly through the silent corridors of the school's oldest building. It stood on the farthest edge of the campus, empty, untouched by time or repair. Unlike the modernized halls filled with students, this place was a ghost from another era, as not even a single object had been moved from where it original was.
The air was thick with dust, the white walls had dimmed with time, the white stairs creaked beneath his weight, threatening to give way, broken railings jutted out, dangerous and jagged, every window, every mirror, every portrait had been covered in heavy black cloth, as though the building itself was trying to forget what it once was.
Allan's footsteps carried him to the top floor. At the end of the hallway, he unlocked a door and stepped into darkness.
The only light came from a pale, dim glow that fell directly on a single object, the lonely piano at the center of the empty room.
It stood immaculate amidst the ruin, polished and perfect.
Allan pulled a kerchief from his pocket, and wiped the instrument gently, obsessively, even though not a speck of dust marked its surface. His hand moved with care, as though the piano were fragile, an egg that would shatter at the slightest touch.
At last, he sat down.
He pressed a key, A sharp, piercing note rang out, cutting through the silence. Closing his eyes, he began to play.
The melody was etched into him, mind, heart, body, soul, that he didn't need to look to know where each key was. Each note was a fragment of memory, a scar carved into music, his fingers moved gracefully and for a fleeting moment, he felt the crushing weight on his chest lighten.
Here, in this room, he could breathe, he let his mind wander around, reliving himself of the stress he carried about, he enjoyed the peace which was fragile, just an illusion, he knew would dissolve the moment his hands stilled, but for now, he let it carry on.
The final note lingered, trembling in the air, before fading into silence.
Allan leaned back, eyes still shut, sinking into the loneliness that awaited him once more.
He wasn't angry because of the slap, not truly, He wasn't even angry at Elaine for stepping into his memories, what unsettled him, what gnawed at him, was the foreign sensation that had crept into him when her eyes met his.
Vulnerability.
A feeling he had buried long ago. A feeling he refused to acknowledge.
And worse, worse still, it came from someone weaker than him.
His hand curled into a fist atop the keys. A sigh escaped his lips, long and weary, echoing through the hollow room.
The music could not banish the ghosts forever, and he feared that they were just a temporary means of escape.