The Boy with the Blind Eyes

THIRTY FOUR

'Tamsin, honey?'

A chill ran down her spine. That voice was so eerily familiar, shadowing her every thought. Everything she thought she knew depended on this voice—a low-pitched, calm hum. Tears pricked her eyes, but she couldn't work out why. Why this voice sounded so familiar and why it caused every muscle in her body to tense. And what was that ache in her chest, the one that burned like fire, all the way up to her throat, but felt like homesickness?

Tamsin opened her eyes.

Her mother stared back at her.

Tamsin snapped awake from the dream with a start. Her hand clamped over her mouth to stop a sob from shrieking out of her. The last thing she needed was to wake Lina and have to explain to her that, yes, Tamsin was having dreams of her dead mother. Dreams that were so vivid and real, she woke up crying in the middle of the night, fighting the urge to scream and sob. Feeling her pulse begin to slow, Tamsin made herself blink away the tears blurring her vision. But the shakiness in her fingers and the deep, grinding ache in her chest, the burning that she had felt in the dream, didn't subside.

In the pitched blackness of her dorm, Tamsin fumbled around on her bedside table for her phone. The time read 4.09 a.m. They'd only gotten back from the party a mere three hours ago. Tamsin hadn't even had a chance to scrub the makeup off her face yet. She was exhausted, but she knew sleep wouldn't be coming back to her any time soon. The dream had shaken her to the core. The need to sob had faded, but she was so taken aback that she stood up and walked into the bathroom.

She met her eyes in the mirror. Dark smudges of last night's mascara were smeared over the skin of her eyes. It looked like she'd been punched. Her hair, which had seemed so pretty and natural last night, was dangerously close to resembling a bird's nest, and the dark lipstick she'd worn had stained her lips. She'd wake Lina if she had a shower, so she washed her face and sighed into the towel, wiping away the droplets of water. Physically, she was exhausted. The dance had stolen every ounce of energy she'd had left—which wasn't much to begin with. She couldn't help but think of everything that had gone wrong. The thief in their dorm, who had concussed her and stolen from Lina, was no closer to being discovered. She was having recurring dreams of her deceased mother. She couldn't let Trey go to some couple she barely knew, but had no choice in the matter. His needs had to come before everything. And now, Brett was gone. She had never felt more alone. Everything kept piling up. She couldn't keep up with it all anymore. It was becoming too much.

Throwing a grey hoodie over her head and tugging on a pair of Lina's Victoria Secret sweatpants, Tamsin slipped out of the dorm, out of the building, and into the early morning, where signs of sunrise hinted in the distance. The morning air, unlike last night's, was freezing. She could see her breath; followed it with her eyes. She walked past the gardens into a nearby courtyard, where lamps lit a decorative path made out of roses. Finding a secluded bench, she dropped into the seat. The urge to sob came back. Biting down hard on her lip, she pushed the feeling away.

And then she sat, for hours, awaiting the arrival of the sun.

---

Her eyes opened to a dazzling bright light.

Tamsin winced, her eyes immediately closing again. She vaguely remembered being torn from sleep by the hand of someone. Great. So she'd fallen asleep, out here in the open, looking like a bum. Fantastic.

'Tamsin?' The voice was all-too familiar. Low, deep and calm. He nudged her. 'Tamsin?'

'Mm. I'm awake.' Stretching her arms high into the air, she arched her back, her joints popping. Mentally, Tamsin reminded herself to never fall asleep sitting upright again. Her eyes opened slowly, only to see Angus standing in front of her, a crease in his brow. 'Hi, Angus.'

'Hey,' he swallowed, voice husky. 'Um, Ali said you were here. Said you were asleep.' There was a brief pause. 'How long have you been out here?'

Glancing at her watch, she answered, 'Give or take six hours.'

'You've been out here since four?' Something in his voice—maybe the surprise, maybe the pity—made her even sadder than she already was. She didn't want his pity. She didn't want him to care. Not in a pitying manner, anyway.

He sat next to her, his thigh flush with hers. She was glad he couldn't see, in that moment—she was sure that her cheeks were scarlet. Angus cleared his throat but didn't move away. He was so close and warm, and the air was so cold. Without meaning to, she shuffled a little closer towards him and the heat of his body. 'So what're you doing here?' She asked quietly.

He shrugged casually, but his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. She didn't get him. Him and his mood swings. One minute he was cold and indifferent, but lately he'd been anything but. He'd actually been kind. 'I just figured you wouldn't want to be woken up by some stranger.' A corner of his mouth hitched up, revealing a dimple in his left cheek.

'That's it?' She hated how the disappointment in her voice showed. How stupid.

'No,' he admitted. 'I came here to invite you to a party tonight.' Now he was blushing. She couldn't understand why he wasn't asking Johanna. She knew now that they weren't together, but they usually went to these types of things together.

'Why?'

He laughed awkwardly. 'Well, why not?'

'No, I just meant...why aren't you asking Johanna?'

He lifted a shoulder. 'She's...not into this stuff.'

'What do you mean? She's always at Lina's parties.'

'Yeah, but this party isn't being hosted by Lina,' his lips lifted into a devilish smile.

'Okay...who, then?'

'A friend of mine. You don't know him.' He was quick to add.

She was intrigued. 'So how is it any different to one of Lina's parties? Other than she's not the host.'

He laughed and nudged her playfully with his foot. 'You ask a lot of questions. So, what do you say? Are you in?'

A party, with Angus? Or sitting in her room all night moping? The decision was too easy. 'I'm in.'

'I'll swing by at eight.'

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