The Damned || t. galpin (on hold)

this is why i don't socialize

Cameron stalked the halls of Nevermore like an anxious ghost. The voices in her head had only increased in quantity and direness. It wasn't only the woman and the man with the goatee. There were more people now, a soothing British voice- always kind and thoughtful, his words full of love.

Tell me what you feel.

I just feel you.

His voice caused pangs of guilt and grief through Cameron's chest- his voice sounded like stolen moments and fond memories. Every time she heard his voice she felt the subtle taste of paprika on her tongue. 

There was a deep rumbling voice that spoke in riddles and caused a well of anger to open up in Cameron's gut.

You took everything from me.

I don't even know who you are.

His voice was like a knife jammed into her heart- causing it to skip and flutter in a way that was not romantic or comfortable. The voice wielded power beyond what Cameron's mind could imagine. He filled her with fear and a need to blow the nearest person's head to pieces.

A metallic voice made her hands shiver with grief- he taunted her. There was something older about this voice than the others. And it filled her with more rage than most.

If you stay here, you'll die.

I already did. Do you want to know how it felt?

She tried to contain the voices when they came- in the middle of the night or the middle of lessons. The only correlation was that they came when she needed them the least. Like an Alzheimer patient trying to keep everything in order- she resorted to scribbling down what she heard. She gave the voices names in her head.

The woman she felt most connected to was Winnie, the kindly British man was Victor, the ancient voice she called Thomas- and the metallic voice was Uriah. She named them off instinct. Names she felt fit them- felt a strange compulsion to them, though something was wrong and the names didn't fit perfectly but, it was the closes she could get.

It was late one night when the voices started back up again, shouting over each other, clamoring inside the cage that was her skull. She's standing by the quad, in one of the covered passageways, wind whipping around her face. She grabbed a pencil and her notebook from her pocket- careful to keep all the loose papers in place.

????: We gotta go, it's this way.

W: I've caused enough problems

She thinks about the man's voice, it's calm and collected with a hint of concern. Like the father figure she never had. She thought about what to call him and searched her mind- her mouth forms the sound 'C' unconsciously. Carl. He was going to be called Carl until she could think of something better.

She erased the question marks and replaced them with the name. Taking a deep breath she turns- ready to return to her room- but that's when a glint catches her attention. It's the statue of Edgar Allan Poe. Weems likes to call him Nevermore's most famous graduate like it's her biggest accomplishment even though she wasn't even alive when he went there.

Tendrils of red magic swirl around the base of his statue. Cogs and springs hide beneath the benevolent surface. Closing her eyes, Cameron wills the statue back- revealing a hidden passageway. Creeping through the hallway, she brushed cobwebs away from her face- definitely adding to the aesthetic value of the place.

She climbs down a staircase- revealing a room filled with purple leather-bound books. It smells ancient- Cameron's fingers quiver, they can't wait to reach out to the ancient tomes. If any place has what she needs, it's the secret library hidden behind Edgar Allan Poe's statue. 

As she rushes towards the books, she slips, and regains her balance but not before several slips of paper fall from her notebook. She kneels to pick them up, her ears constantly on alert for any sounds that might indicate someone finding her in the hidden library.

She scans the walls of the dingy dungeon, several portraits line the walls. None of them hide anything- except for the one at the back. A vault is set into the wall behind it. Creeping through the library, something piques her interest. 

It isn't anything flashy, no sparks or flames, but her mind is drawn to the shadowy corner. She almost cannot take a step closer to the vault and further from the point. She turned sharply, making her way down the aisle. She reaches out with her hand- almost reaching the book she knew she was looking for-

Darkness covers her vision as she is whisked away, something hits her head and she loses consciousness and falls to the floor. The last thing she can recall is being dragged away from what she knew was the answer to all the questions.

She wakes later, a bag still over her head. She shakes it off, using her magic to loosen the ropes around her wrists. Whoever tied them had evidently not watched enough serial killer documentaries.

Eight figures stand around her, in a half-crescent like some sort of cult. Their faces are obscured by black feathery masks.

"How do you know about us?" One asks, Bianca.

Cameron snorts, "You can take the mask off Bianca." She scans the rest of the figures, "You too Yoko, Xavier, Annie, Kent-" They oblige shedding the masks but keeping the purple robes, "And what are you?"

They glance around at each other, Xavier, speaks up, "We're the Nightshades, an elite social club, emphasis on elite." They smirk at each other, and Cameron rolls her eyes just like normie school.

"How'd you solve the riddle?" Bianca asks, jutting her chin forward- pointedly ignoring her ex. Cameron's brow furrowed- Kent voiced her thoughts.

"What riddle? I thought we just snapped twice?" Whipping her gaze back to Bianca, Cameron asks, confused.

"You have to snap twice?" 

"Well, then, how'd you get in?" Bianca shoots back.

Cameron sighs, she would rub her eyes if she wasn't pretending to be tied up. The rope is nothing but a tangled mess in her fist. "How do you think?"

"Wait aren't you the telekinetic?" Xavier asks. Someone is behind on the times, it's been a month and she's the only new person in a year group of fifty, you would think that they had at least seen her and made the connection.

"In the flesh," She grins, spreading her hands out in front of her, and dropping the pretense that she had ever been their prisoner. Some look shocked, others slightly perturbed, Bianca just rolls her eyes.

She rises from the chair, "I'll be on my way now." They move to block her path, and Bianca holds out her hand.

"You can't leave here, you know about us." She says, Cameron fakes despair, rubbing her face with her hand.

She drops her face, making it neutral"Well, then I guess you'll have to kill me." She deadpans.

"Why don't you just join us? We keep it pretty low-key, but we go on camping trips and the occasional skinny dip. And Yoko's a beginner mixologist." She moves closer to Cameron, and the amulet on her neck glints. A single peek into Bianca's mind would reveal her true intentions. But it's risky in such close proximity so Cameron steps back, contemplating.

"Didn't you say that you're elite? Why would you want me?" Bianca chuckles.

"You seem fine, plus we need another telekinetic. Preferably one who isn't insane," This would be a bad time to mention the voices, wouldn't it? "We aren't into that crazy elite stuff anymore, that was in place while the club was at its peak."

Sincerity pours from Bianca's every pore, but Cameron knows the siren is a skilled liar.

"Fine, will I be able to read stuff in this library?" She deflects.

"Yeah," Bianca replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm in." Whatever the siren had planned would be worth enduring if it meant that Cameron could get her hands on the Darkhold.

A/N: I can't believe she's calling Thanos Thomas, girl bossing I guess. 

-beanz