AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Yeah. It’s because I'm a transfer from Ohio."
"Ohio State?" Her tone registers surprise.
"The very one."
Her curiosity deepens. "Why did you transfer?"
A wave of discomfort washes over me, a pang of regret for letting that detail slip. I fidget with my fingers, trying to keep the burgeoning memories at bay. It’s like trying to peer through a dense, black curtain.
The arrival of the server with our food is a welcome distraction. "Who else should I steer clear of?" I ask, eager to shift the focus.
Rose’s attention locks on something—or someone—behind me. "All of them," she states flatly.
I sneak a glance back. Garret fixes his gaze on Rose, giving his gaze a hard edge. Off to the side, Melissa is gone. Instead, a blonde stands in front of Valen, her back to us, clad in a skirt that leaves little to the imagination, deep in a one-sided conversation. Valen’s gaze is adrift, ignoring whatever she is telling him.
Then as if drawn by some silent alarm, his eyes meet mine. I hold his stare, finding an unexpected steadiness within. The sensations that once fluttered through me at the sight of him are conspicuously absent—no butterflies, no tinge of envy.
My brother’s voice is telling me to stay away. Rose’s warning—they’ve doused any spark that might have lingered.
The girl places her hands flat against Valen's chest, her red nails making a vivid proclamation. He glances at her hands, then returns to me. Redirecting my attention, I join Rose in focusing on the fries.
“He hasn't looked away,” Rose murmurs, her voice low after taking a sip of her Sprite.
Whether it's recognition or curiosity in his eyes, I can't distinguish. So I dismiss it, saying with casual indifference, “He’s probably wondering why I was staring.”
She sneaks another peek. “He's still watching.”
I place the fries back in the basket, my fingers brushing the napkin to rid them of grease. “Excuse me for a moment. I need the restroom.”
Desperate to divert the conversation away from him and to avoid the temptation of looking back, I slip out of the booth and make a beeline for the restroom marked "Females Only."
Inside, after using the handicap bathroom and washing my hands, a scream pierces the silence as the door swings open. I pause, waiting for the newcomer to choose a stall so I can leave discreetly. Tilting my head, I try to catch a glimpse of their feet but see nothing. After a fruitless minute, I unlatch the stall, and the world plunges into darkness.
Panic surges as I blink, futilely willing the lights back on. "Hello?" My voice echoes. "The lights are off. Could you turn them back on, please?"
Silence is the only reply.
Enveloped in darkness, my eyes fail to adjust. Footsteps creep closer. I lurch out of the stall, colliding with a wall—someone. My hands shoot up, grasping at empty space.
"This isn't funny," I snap, my nerves fraying. "What the hell?"
A single "Shh..." sends a wave of dread through me, heavier than the darkness itself. I'm trapped. Each attempt to move is blocked.
"Is this some twisted joke, some freshman hazing?" My voice is a mix of anger and fear, the latter winning as I'm met with silence, thick and unyielding.
Memories of that horrific night begin to replay in my mind, my ears ringing with the echo of that night. Then, mercifully, the door creaks open, casting a feeble strip of light from the hallway. But there is no one.
I fumble along the wall, my fingers finally flipping the light switch. I wince as the harsh fluorescent lights flicker to life, taking a moment for my eyes to adjust. Tentatively, I look into the mirror and freeze. Scrawled across it, written in red:
WHO SAID I WAS A GIRL?
I make it to building four and walk into the creative writing class I’m assigned to. I look around the stadium-style seating to find an empty seat. I tried to think about the message in the mirror last night. It must have been a prank, but what if it wasn’t?
Adam texted me this morning to make sure I showed up to class and asked if I needed anything. He assured me that I would be able to catch up and the professor would allow me extra time to submit any missing assignments. I hope he’s right.
I was going to call Victoria this morning but decided against it. I didn’t want to make a big deal about what happened in the bathroom at the bar. I wouldn’t know what to ask her. What would I say? Hey, Victoria, did girls from Kenyan act like psycho freaks, turning off the bathroom lights and trying to scare people while they were using the bathroom? She would think I was crazy. She’s married to the love of her life and is happy. She doesn’t need my baggage to cloud her mind. Knowing her, she would want to meet up to check on me, and I would have to lie to her too. She would want to know how I’ve been, if I’m dating, or if I have any friends. You can tell only so many lies before the cracks in the truth begin to surface. Knowing her, she would see them. She would sense something was up.
Students file in and take their seats. I choose a seat in the top right corner, away from everyone but where I cansee everyone.
