Memories of the Reaper

Chapter Five

Derek Grey walked out of the administrative building, glancing at the sun as it shone over the top of the mountain. He looked over his back, getting the sense of being watched. Yet all he saw was an empty lawn overgrown with thorny vines, large stalks of onion grass, and a few of the resident crows. One of the groundskeepers hacked at a vine of kudzu growing along the small marble fountain as water sprayed around the academy logo that sat at its center: two A's attached at a single leg like an M with a line through the middle. Derek leaned back against a column, quietly let out a breath, and closed his eyes. He put a hand through his hair, but as it gave way between his fingers, his eyes snapped open in terror, staring at the tuft of hair lying in his quivering palm.

I need you to wake up, Derek, a voice said behind him.

Derek whirled, but there was nothing but the wind.

"You need to... you need to relax. You're scaring yourself, that's all. The shadow isn't real. None of that is real," he muttered. The boy glanced down at the hair in his hand, muttering, "But this... this is real." He pressed his fingers to his face, feeling nothing else amiss, but he saw a few more strands fall from his head.

"No. No, no, nononononono!" Derek turned and ran back inside the administration center, through the open lobby, and into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and rushed to the sink, looking at the reflection, catching only glimpses as the light flickered overhead. From the mirror-world, an eighteen-year-old boy with a pale complexion, eyes the darkest shade of gray, and receding black hair stared at Derek.

And in the seconds that he watched, more hair fell out.

Derek gasped, putting a hand to his face as he noticed the dark bags beneath his eyes, his chapped lips, and bloodshot eyes. Even his frame looked emaciated. Derek tried to think of the last time he had eaten, but he couldn't remember.

"No wonder people think I'm crazy. I look insane!" Derek shouted, running another hand through his hair, only to pull out more strands. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit. Oh, shit. Okay. Shit." He took a breath and turned on the water faucet. Cupping his hands, he splashed water on his face, though it did little to wake him up. He grabbed the lip of the porcelain sink, breathing and blinking away the water running down his face. "This is all just a dream, Derek. Of course, it's just a dream. There's no way anything this can be—"

The words died on his lips as his vision cleared, revealing the shadow standing behind him, its face hidden within the folds of its cowl as it rested a gauntleted hand on his shoulder.

"Real."

Derek whirled, seeing nothing. He turned back to the mirror, seeing the shadow only in the reflection.

"What do you want from me?!"

I need you to remember, its voice echoed—

The door flung open, slamming into the air-powered hand dryer. It whirred to life as an enraged football player stalked into the bathroom and sank his fist into the far wall. When he pulled it back, his knuckles were bleeding. He winced, opening and closing his hand before running water on it, mixing with the blood before swirling down the drain.

Derek stared at him, then around the room. The shadow was gone.

"What are you staring at, freak?"

Derek ignored him and turned his attention back to the mirror, staring at his emaciated reflection before bending lower to wash his hands in the sink. It's not worth it. Ten, nine, eight... He counted down to zero, then again, then a third time. At the end of it, the jock was still staring at him.

Derek snapped his head in the jock's direction. "What?"

"You're Derek Grey, right?"

The anger faded, replaced by caution. "Yeah? So what?"