Spooky

Chapter 4

-Shadow's POV-

"Whew!" I heave a sigh, flopping backwards onto my bed, exhausted. It's been one huge rollercoaster ride of a day, and I'm so grateful to have some downtime; letting my head fall to the right, I stare over at Scourge's very empty half of the room. The moment school ended, I'd come back here to get my homework done—Rouge said she'd be doing the same, so we just went our separate ways, planning to meet up again for dinner—and I've managed to finish with thirty whole minutes to spare. Half an hour, all to myself... A small, tired smile dances across my face, and I reach into my jacket pocket, fishing around for a moment; after a short bit, I pull out my phone to check the time—5:35—before putting it back down. Things have been quiet, almost eerily so, but hey, I'm not complaining. I managed to focus pretty well and get all my stupid busywork done for the day, hours in advance; my only concern is this:

It's 30 minutes to dinner, and I haven't seen my roommate all day long.

Rolling onto my side, I glare at his empty bed, worried and confused. Why hasn't he come back? I mean, jeez, you'd think the dude would at least stop by to drop off his books. What could he possibly be doing? I sigh again, but for a different reason this time, trying to wrap my head around my strange roommate. My thoughts keep drifting back to that terrifying moment when he smashed me into the wall this morning, and how horrifically vacant his eyes seemed. A shiver runs up my spine and I swallow with a little difficulty, recalling how petrifying it felt to be so helpless, unable to even breathe properly. My throat seizes up just thinking about it, and I roll onto my other side, disturbed. I thought I'd escape that here... I guess not... Rolling onto my back again, restless, I stare up at the ceiling, eyebrows knit together in worry. Lifting my phone, I check the time again—a brief smirk flickers across my face as I glimpse my lock screen, one of the many silly selfies I've taken with Rouge (in fact, I've so many that there's a seperate folder on my phone for them)—to read 5:43. Only about 15 minutes to dinner. Where is he?

Another shudder. I wonder, though—a different fear takes hold of me. What if he gets in trouble or does something illegal? Do I get punished too? Fright crackles through me. Oh, lord, I hope that wherever the hell he is, he's not breaking the law or some shit. Fearful, I lock my phone again, letting my hand drop back down to my side, mind wandering. What if he's gotten himself into something? What if he's not coming back? An odd mixture of sadness and relief washes over me—if he's gone, he won't be annoying me anymore, but I don't want him dead or anything, I just don't understand him—followed immediately by guilt. How dare I feel relief at the idea of someone else getting hurt, even if it is him! I scold myself, biting my lip. Still though—if he's gotten hurt, what do I do? What if he doesn't come back at all tonight? Where would he go? My worry grows exponentially with each thought, all kinds of disastrous scenarios playing out behind my eyes as I fret over someone I swear I don't care about.

Before my mind can wander off into a zombie apocalypse, I hear the distinct sound of footsteps, heavy and a bit dragging, approaching the door; immediately I sit bolt upright, eyes fixed on our dorm's entrance, ears perked. The knob wiggles, jangling keys can be heard, and I hold my breath expectantly as the door finally opens to reveal the man of the hour, the hedgehog I've been worried sick over. He stands slumped, a dull look in his eyes, and I blink, surprised; he looks deeply troubled, brows creased, eyes cast downward, the dark circles beneath his eyes so much more defined. His head snaps up, eyes locking with mine, and he immediately straightens, face quickly morphing into his usual haughty glare.