18.98: An ONC 2023 Thriller

Chapter 2

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Liv's dormmate hated her, and there was nothing she could do about it except hate her back.

Move-in day started off promising enough. After the customary introductory chitchat was out of the way, both girls unpacked their possession while discussing a shared love of microwave popcorn and an aversion to cilantro.

"It's a smell receptor gene," Liv told the tall blond girl who was to sleep six feet away from her for the entirety of her freshman year. "If you have this OR682 gene, cilantro will taste like soap. If you don't, supposedly it's wonderful. Like tasting spring. I can't imagine that, though."

The girl, named Amanda, had nodded in agreement.

That was the last time Liv could remember them seeing eye to eye on anything. Three hours after moving into their room on the second floor of the university's largest dormitory, the emerging bond between them was broken by a seemingly innocuous question.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Liv asked.

Liv was prepared for a yes or a no response. It was fine with her if Amanda said no. She could live with skepticism; after all, Liv considered herself to be a borderline cynic. It was important that on a regular basis she examine her beliefs for sentimentality and wishful thinking. Idealism could never supplant rationality and factual-based discovery.

A thrill traveled up her spine at the prospect of Amanda saying yes, however, as it would open them up to a whole new dimension of friendship. Liv had so much to share on the topic and so few people in her life to share with.

Neither a sceptic nor a disciple of the preternatural, Amanda stunned Liv instead by unleashing a viper attack, the venom still churning in Liv's gut hours later.

Following Liv's good-natured question, Amanda dropped a stack of sweaters, her body notably more ridged than it had been five seconds previous.

"Don't tell me you're one of those occult people," she said as she fingered the chain of her necklace, her eyes darting to Liv's hastily unpacked possessions like she expected to find a witch's cauldron amongst her underwear and biology textbooks.

What in the world? Liv stood there with her mouth wide open. "Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but—"

"I gave the school very specific instructions," she blurted out, emphasizing each word like Liv would be incapable of understanding otherwise. "They were not to pair me with someone who would attempt to undermine my path."

Liv's jaw tightened. "What path is that?"

"The path." Amanda gave her the look rich women reserve for homeless people daring to exist in their line of sight. "The fact that you have to ask says it all, doesn't it?"

Not willing to let Amanda's criticism go unchecked, she attempted to explain, keeping her voice light and neutral. "I'd like to understand your perspective and share mine as well. Some of my fellow supernatural enthusiasts meet up at haunted houses, and we try to commune with spirits, if they're there. But we're normal people. Barry is an accountant. And Linda teaches fourth grade. I swear to you, it's a harmless hobby."

"There's nothing harmless about it. What am I supposed to do when you let the demons into our room?" Her eyes darted around the space like she expected to see a devil with a forked tail using the microwave to heat up leftovers. "Because that's what you're going to do, isn't it, Liv? You're going to perform your rituals and invite them in. Let them fill up the emptiness you feel inside of you. And when that happens, you won't even realize you've damned us both."