The Fallen One

Part 3

The smell of burnt toast overwhelms my senses as I walk through the large oak door to the cafeteria. I'm transported back to my childhood, when Mum used to make Dippy Eggs and Soldiers.

Addie bumps hips with me and asks how my first day was. I tune out after she asks a fifth question and instead scan across the sea of black clothing. For a reform school the rules are pretty flexible: the uniform is any black clothing you have that doesn't reveal too much skin, we have shared bathrooms, and there's free time in the afternoons.

Addie and I take our place at an empty table near the rear of the room. She debriefs me on the eleven people in our grade and points them out. The girl with the pink hair is one of them. I stab my food with my fork and jiggle my leg.

Suddenly the room darkens. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. My heart pounds and I hear blood rushing in my ears. I sense them. The Shadows. They crawl along the ceiling, like black smoke twisting and turning. My stomach sinks as the sense of dread settles.

I've been seeing the Shadows for five years now. At first the doctors thought it was psychotic hallucinations, but the medication they gave me never worked. I know that when the Shadows come, something bad will happen. Something bad always happens.

I feel the cold settle on my shoulders as the Shadows rest themselves there. Their fingers poke and prod the students around me, and I hold my breath in fear. I fist my hands so tightly my fingernails dig into my sweaty palms. I need to get out of here. I stand up abruptly and bolt for the doors. Addie yells after me but I tear down the dull hallways as fast as I can, the cold smoky Shadows nipping at my heels. I see a room to my left and take a sharp turn, slamming the door behind me. I can hear the Shadows hissing above my rapid breathing, desperate to reach me, but after a few minutes they drift away. Thank god. I rest my head against the cool door for a moment, regaining my composure.

"Where the hell did you go?" Addie looks at me with concern.

"Sorry," I stutter, unable to come up with an excuse, but she doesn't push it further.

Our class is gathered outside a fusty room waiting for the first lesson of the day: history. I glance at the surrounding faces; the pink-haired girl I talked to yesterday is chatting to two boys leaning against the wall. One is short and stocky with sandy blonde hair the other is his opposite. Jet-black hair shines under the dim lighting. His tall lean figure is hunched as he rests one foot against the wall for balance. Black skinny jeans that are glued to his legs like a second skin are tucked into black suede boots. He wears an oversized leather jacket and a pair of Rayban sunglasses cover his eyes.

"Who's that?" I whisper to Addie, gesturing in the direction of the dark-haired boy.

"That's Aaron," she whispers back. "He's an orphan but his foster family had enough of him after he'd been arrested eight times. He's been here three years."

I nod, and we both stare in the direction of the boy. An uneasy feeling sweeps over me. Although I've never met this boy before I feel as though I know him. Those jeans, that jacket; it feels all too familiar. His face floats around in my mind like a vague memory.

"And his friend?" I turn to Addie, tearing my eyes away from him.

"Cam."

I turn back to watch the two boys. Aaron leans into his friend, whispering something inaudible and they both turn to catch my gaze. My cheeks flare up. Cam chuckles and turns back to the pink-haired girl, but Aaron continues to stare, his eyes glued to mine. I smile at him, and he smiles back before flipping me off and turning back to Cam. What an asshole.