Like every other high school, the students of Ravenwood Academy know nothing more beyond the world of their own teenage lives -- a world of classes to pass, social reputations to live up to, and dirty little secrets to keep.
But when strange dangero...
Somewhere in the quiet darkness, the alarm went off. Hazel eyes, blank and somber, glanced over to the window, the blinds pulled up. At half past five, the sky was painted a deep midnight blue, blotches of light scattered upon the ground below. Beyond streetlights and houses, at the edge of the city, stood silhouettes of hills, pine trees saturating the mounds with their verdant hue, a large snow-capped volcano standing out in the far distance. Clouds enshrouded the moon and stars above. For a while, Lyn lay and listened to the veins of the city come alive, as cars began to run down streets and highways, engines roaring past before disappearing deeper into the urban labyrinth.
She looked away, and turned to the other side. Her right hand, thin and pale, emerged from under the sheets, and reached over to the bedside table, towards her phone. She pressed a finger onto a button. Silence.
Lyn didn't need the alarm this morning, for she had been awake for the past couple of hours, bad dreams having pulled her out of sleep. And this wasn't the first time.
It had been months since dreams came to disturb her rest. Yet they revolved only around three things—phantasms of tall shadowy forms, or of voices in the cold darkness, or of a girl drowning into deep dark waters. But this time all these things were sewn together to form a horrifying tragedy whilst she slept. She, however, couldn't recall the dream in its entirety, nothing else but the same three things leaving their mark in memory.
She sighed, pulling the sheet away from her, sitting up on her bed. Now wasn't the time to dwell on dreams, she told herself. Today was the first day of school, after all. In her mother's words the night before, they have a long day ahead of them—they shouldn't be late.
Another bore at the start of a new tale, she thought to herself, swinging her legs over to the edge of the bed. Another cliché.
Just then, a quick buzz vibrated against the wooden surface of her bedside table. The screen lit up—a message from someone.
Her hand reached over to her phone, picked it up, held it within her view. As expected, it was from a friend.
"Ready bro?" the message read.
A sigh escaped her lips. She didn't want to lie, but, if truth be told, she thought it would be real nice to lock herself in her bedroom and sleep in, maybe pick up a novel and read when she had had enough of laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. But there was school, and expectations, and parents.
She replied, "I'll try."
A short pause, and the screen lit up again—another message.
"Pessimist haha"
"Always," she typed in. "I don't think that's ever going to change."
There was a longer pause this time. Lyn planted her feet on the floor, the skin of her bare feet on smooth, cold wood. Then came another message:
"You can do it"
She shook her head, pushed her dark locks out of her face. "Thanks, bro," she replied, having nothing else to say. Nothing decent, anyway.
She lay her phone on the bedside table, made her way over to the bathroom. A pair of hazel eyes stared straight at the mirror, at the image of messy, long, raven hair framing a pale heart-shaped face, dead eyes that stared right back. Lyn turned the tap on, letting water run to her palms. Well, dear, she thought to herself, faking a smile, this is as good as it's gonna get. She raised her cupped hands to her face, and felt cool water splash against her skin.
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