The Campus Killings {#LGBTQ #HORROR #FRIGHT}

Chapter Nine

Daylight broke through the curtains inside the dorm room as Jake stared at the diary on his bed, closed and unread.

He had barely slept, too shaken up by the events of the previous night — that pale, blank face, approaching him, had stuck in his mind and each time he had tried to close his eyes, it was all he saw.

Willa had left for her rehearsal a few hours previous and he was stuck on his own, his anxieties creeping up on him once again.

To distract himself, he had tried cooking, making his mother's homemade Kung Pao chicken recipe (he could never make it as good as she did) and after eating, had picked up the dusty guitar to reacquaint himself with it.

The instrument had belonged to his mother in life, a Fender that she had saved up to get when she had first emigrated to the UK — inscribed on the neck were her initials, which Jake lightly ran his finger over before setting it in his lap.

His mother had left him the instrument in her will, having taught him to play it from a young age — though her dream of being a famous musician hadn't quite panned out, sharing her love of music with him was something a lot more profound.

Post the incident, Jake had found himself playing less, often struggling to remember the chords and he once again worried that he had disappointed her.

Holding the pick between his forefinger and thumb, he strummed an E chord, wincing at the discordant sound before going to tune it, though as he did, his eyes caught the book on his bed, which glittered as the sunlight caught on the engraving.

Jake swallowed thickly, his hand trembling on the pegs for a second — he was petrified at the idea of opening the diary, of unloading the Pandora's box sure to await him.

Laura Lee was someone that had seemed to exist outside of Jake's realm of existence, a ghost of a human who he had heard everyone's experiences of.

This diary was real.  It was real, irrefutable evidence of her existence, perhaps her final thoughts, fears — perhaps even a clue to whoever committed the deed.

I should give this to the police, he thought to himself, it's only right. 

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to do so, couldn't rid himself of the burden.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Jake lifted his head, his nerves utterly shot as his fingers flexed on the neck of the guitar.

There was another knock, followed by a voice, "Jake!" it was Raleigh, that singsong tone filled with something akin to regret, "Jake, you in there?"

Jake opened his mouth to answer, but it caught in his throat as he thought back to the look of scepticism in the other man's face, the sheer lack of faith and belief in him which had made him retreat.

Raleigh continued on, "Look, I'm sorry about last night, I really am.  We can talk about it if you want, or not."

Jake bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from responding, from letting himself trust so easily again.   Just the previous night, he had thought about giving in, losing himself in Raleigh and tearing down the wall that had kept him perfectly safe the past few years, but his reaction had been a harsh reminder that he barely knew this man, and all he really had was himself.

"Well, we're all going to have lunch by the fountain if you want or..." Raleigh offered dejectedly, clearly still wanting to be on good terms with the other man and wondering if he'd messed it all up, "Well, I'll be seeing you."

He sighed shakily and his footsteps receded, leaving Jake staring at the door in his wake, his dark eyes swimming with sadness.  Part of him ached to run out the door and throw himself into the other man's arms, but he steeled himself.