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Damn it.I force a smile onto my face before turning around.

“Yes, Professor Galmatin?” He motions towards a chair in front of his desk. “Sorry, I’ve got to get to my next class.”

“No, you don’t. Your next class isn’t for an hour and half. I’m not surprised you don’t know that since you haven’t attended it once for the past two weeks.”

How bad is your life when it gets to the point that a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach is so common it’s no longer noteworthy? Suppressing a heavy sigh, I walk to the indicated chair and sit. I’d hoped to try and take a nap, grab a coffee, then actually make my class for a change but those plans are gone now.

“Quinn, I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, sir.”

He frowns so deep it wrinkles his forehead and makes his eyes crinkle. Has he always had so much gray hair? It seems new, almost like it appeared overnight. Or it showed up while I’ve been busy with the trainwreck my life has been.

“I have no right to pry, but after what happened in Scotland,” he pauses and swallows before continuing, “on my watch. Quinn, I am concerned. I want to help.”

There is kindness in his words and genuine concern. Beneath that I hear his self-loathing and blame. It almost melts through my defenses. I want to tell him. I want to trust him with all my secrets. It’d be so nice to have someone, anyone, that knows what’s happening.

Could I trust him? Why not? No, I can’t. He’s more likely than any of my friends to call someone to “help” me, which would mean sending me somewhere to “rest”?

Staring into his eyes, the moment is stretching way past comfortable. It’s all there, on the tip of my tongue, and I’m so tired. It’s not only exhaustion, its weariness. Carrying this secret is wearing me down. There’s so much pressure. Pressure to decide and all the worry about my mom, my dad, even Savannah too.

“Professor, what do you know about Scottish myths?”

“You mean the old tales? I’m quite familiar with them. As you know, Scottish history is my personal focus. They are quite enamoring and beautiful. I’m even working on a book that shows how universal themes are retold or related…”

He continues talking, but behind him a shadow pulls my attention. The classroom has a bank of windows all along an eastern wall. The room is bright, almost too bright, this time of day. There is nothing that should be casting a shadow that deep where it is.

Cold creeps across my skin as the temperature in the room suddenly drops. Darting my eyes to the professor he doesn’t seem to notice. Malevolence emanates from that shadow. Not the shadow itself, but coming from inside, permeating it, and reaching out. Reaching for me.

My heart rate speeds up. I’m breathing rapidly and a cold sweat breaks out over my face and chest. I chew my lower lip, fighting an irrational urge to run.

“Quinn!” Professor Galmatin’s voice is sharp and he snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Quinn, is it drugs? There’s no shame in it. There are programs right here on campus that can help.”

“Huh?” I can’t take my eyes off the shadow. If I do, I know something terrible will happen. I’m sure that the only thing keeping it at bay is me and my attention. “No.” I shake my head. “I’m not on drugs.”

“Quinn, believe me, college can be stressful, and what starts out as an innocent use of chemical enhancement can quickly spin out of control. Let me—”

“Damn it, no,” I snap. “It’s not drugs. I’m under a lot of pressure, that’s all.”

His eyes widen when I cut him off but I don’t have time for his conjecture. The shadow is pulsating like it’s a black beating heart. It’s like it’s alive or, maybe, whatever is inside it is about to burst out and do God knows what. Professor Galmatin purses his lips and resolve settles on his face.

“Quinn, I’ll have no choice but to report—”

“Can we take a walk?” I ask, jumping to my feet while keeping the dark blob in my line of sight.

“That’s most unusual.”

“Fine, I know it is, but I could use someone to talk to and I really need fresh air. Badly. Now.”

The professor would be a terrible poker player. His thoughts play out on his face as clearly as any Oscar-winning actor. He goes from doubts about the propriety of walking with a young co-ed to resolve he’s only intending to help, and back to fears he’s being set up for an undercover sting.

“We could walk on the commons,” he says, making it clear he doesn’t want to be somewhere with no witnesses. Sadly, it’s smart of him. I’ve heard stories of girls blackmailing professors on campus.

“Fine, now.” He rises to his feet so damn slowly I swear I want to grab him and drag him out of the room. As he moves the shadow pulses faster. Any moment it’s going to do… something. Something bad. I don’t know what, but I feel it. Feel it in my bones.

Finally, frustration overcomes me as he grabs his jacket off the back of his chair. I grab his arm and drag him out of the room. I strain my neck to keep eyes on the shadow. It pulses quickly, like a newborn baby’s heart, thunderingly fast, but as we leave it slows and the shadow recedes. By the time we exit the room the shadow is gone. If it was ever there and I’m not losing my mind. Which is a possibility I can’t rule out.

Professor Galmatin is stiff as a board, relaxing only slightly when I stop dragging him and let go of his arm. The hallway is empty, so I lead the way outside. I keep checking over my shoulder, certain that something is going to jump out at any moment.

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