Incandescence

19: White Lies

Bright lights chase away the darkness. Low voices merge together into one large indiscernible hum. I blink away the last of the shadows, eyelids flitting open to a scene of chaos.

An unfamiliar dorm room, bathed in pastel hues. A group of teachers and uniformed officers towering over me. Grave faces. Tears. And there, sitting on the edge of one of the beds, is an ashen Alice. She's flanked by two of the uniformed officers, who I've now come to realise are cops. Her mouth opens as she speaks to them, but her face remains blank as an artist's canvas. Empty.

"Thank god, you're awake," someone says close by. They crouch down beside me, their face filling my slightly hazy vision. Mr Skye. "We thought you might have fractured your skull."

"Wha . . . what happened?" I ask, attempting to pull myself up into a sitting position. It feels weird, watching everyone while lying on the ground. But the moment I move my neck a searing pain shoots through my nerves, like I've been set alight. I wince, biting down hard on my lip to keep from crying out loud.

"You don't remember?"

No, I don't remember how I knocked myself out, or why my head feels like it's been shoved in an oven to roast. I shake my head but it's too much. A pained cry escapes my traitorous lips and I reach up with my hand to feel for the injury. Something wet and sticky is matted to my hair. I pull my trembling hand back, gasping when I find my fingers coated in red.

"We're taking you to the A&E," Mr Skye says. "Don't worry, we'll be there soon. Just try to relax for now, April."

"What happened?" I ask again, a little more desperate than before. It's a struggle to remember the last twenty-four hours. Everything is a blank, like my memory has been scrubbed clean with an eraser. I fight against the block, trying to recall any details I can. There was the talk with Mason . . . getting lost in one of the towers . . . I'd eventually found my way back to my dorm, hadn't I?

Had I?

An elusive memory tugs at my mind but subconsciously, I'm pushing it away, as though I don't want to remember. No, that's wrong – I want to remember. Something happened. The lights went out. No, wait, there was something more. . .

Oh god.

"Where is she?" The words come out louder than intended. "Where'd she go?"

The room falls silent. Mr Skye shares a deliberate glance with one of the cops. Even Alice refuses to make eye contact with me.

"What's going on? Why're you all looking away like that? Answer me!"

"April, you need to calm down. It's okay," says Mr Skye. "You've been out cold for almost ten minutes. We're taking you to the A&E. Your mother's on the way to the airport right now. You need stitches. You've split your head open." He holds out a hand to help me up. I try to sit again but another cop rushes over, taking hold of my arm and gently pulling me to my feet.

There's no use fighting them as they steer me from the room, down the corridor, past numerous gawking students. Their grasp on me is reassuring yet restraining, like the metal restrictors of a carnival ride. My fellow classmates don't even try to hide their curiosity. The spotlight is on me and all eyes are turned in the direction of our dire little group. The rest of the staff are dotted around, holding them back, yelling for them to return to their dorms, but even they're secretly watching me. It's unnerving.

"April!" A strikingly pale face materialises before me – Peter. He looks worried as hell and his skin is tinged with green. But then, that could just be the way the too-bright fluorescents are hitting him.

"Get back to your room, Peter." Mr Skye pushes the boy out the way. "There's nothing here to see."

I expect him to act obligingly – Peter's one to follow rules – but he surprises me, exploding with rage. "You off your rocker? She's my friend! I'm not leaving till –"