The Hunt of Altswood High (The Altswood Saga #1)

Chapter 6 - Warning

Chapter 6 - Warning

"Dad," I hissed, following him into the station. "At least give me some details."

He glanced back. "You seem a little jumpy."

"I'm not jumpy!" I exclaimed, tugging at the hem of my shirt. "I want you to sit down and explain what is happening before rushing off."

"Luca, you're very jumpy. You took your medication this morning, right?"

I froze, fingers halting to a stop. I didn't. I had been too preoccupied with the Hunt. This was the first time in ages I've forgotten.

"Of course," I squawked. "Excuse me for a moment."

Dad furrowed his eyebrows after me as I grabbed my bag and heading for the tiny bathrooms at the back of the station.

"Feminine problems," I called back hurriedly.

I yanked open the painted pale green door with a grunt, then slammed it with equal force. My hands were trembling, fingers going spastic with panic as I fumbled within my bag for the little bottle my daily pills were in.

I forgot. How did I forget? Since when did I forget? This was the one thing I prided myself in. I never forgot.

I swallowed hard, saliva catching in my dried-out throat. The lid opened easily and I gulped down two pills. They got uncomfortably stuck along the way, but a good cough and swallow forced them through.

"Loosh?" Dad called, voice muffled.

"I'm fine!" I said, jamming the lid back on. It secured with a click-click, and I shoved the bottle deep into the mess of paper in my backpack. "I'll be out in a few!"

I leant over the sink, the top of my head pressed against the glass of the mirror. Once I had calmed down enough, I realized that missing one dosage of medication wasn't going to drive me into the black balloon at the deep end of crazy.

Every day I was the same, that wasn't going to change.

Today was no different. It was never different.

Wasn't it? a voice in my head whispered menacingly. Since coming here, I had experienced more excitement—and none of the positive kind—than ever. A sick part of me, the part who was dissatisfied with routine, craved the thrill of the unexpected.

That was a part of me I didn't want. That was an irrational part of me that wasn't allowed to surface. Paranoia was never far away from digging its claws into my brain, and it pounced with every chance it got.

I took a deep, calming breath, shoving all thought away. My mind had to remain level and clear.

Slowly, I smoothed my hair out of my eyes, breathing in and out. A bit of static energy kept the fake threads nicely stuck to the mass, off my face. 

I was running a hand over my collar, flapping it down, when a thud echoed through the wall on my left, the wall that formed a barrier between me and the outside. Startled, my head whipped towards the window. I thought perhaps a bird had hit the glass, so I turned back to the mirror, only making a mental note to ask someone to check.

But then movement, edging into view outside the window, appearing in the corner of the mirror, caught my attention. 

My eyes couldn't tear away even if they wanted to.

My pulse stuttered.

Not daring to breathe, I slowly, carefully, spun on my heel until I faced the window. I was holding hope that what I saw in the mirror was my imagination. I took heavy steps backward until the door hit my skull. It was not my imagination.