Ineffable

ii. thatcher hall

author's note: this story is going to be told through "then and now" perspectives. "now" chapters are written in third-person, whilst "then" chapters are written in first-person. i know it's confusing, but i'm just testing the waters to see if it's doable. if it becomes too much of a hassle for any of you, let me know in the comments and i will try my best to change it. 

warning: this story will contain strong language, sensitive topics (sexual assault, verbal and physical abuse), and possibly mild sexual content. if you are in any way uncomfortable with those things, i would advise you not to read this story. thank you! 

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then / in which sawyer begins her first day at uni

A muddy carpet runs along the pinched, narrow corridors of Thatcher Hall. Several unlocked doors hang open, inviting onlookers for a view of a conventional student dormitory. Laughter and boisterous cheer pirouettes through the air, finding home in my ears and by the looks of it, Dean and Lilah’s as well.

Dean looks at me with a smirk when both our eyes catch the massive Sherlock poster pinned to the left wall of a room we pass by. He and I watch that show together every time it comes on. Lilah hates it, so she uses the hour and a half to paint her nails, bake cookies, or pile together evidence to use in court. She never watches anything with us unless it has to do with Breaking Bad or Criminal Minds.

When we reach room 217, my new home, I dig around in my trouser pockets for the key. For minutes, I cannot seem to find it and I worry I may have left it back at our flat. But then, I hear Lilah slap Dean’s shoulder and grab the key from his hands. He laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world and if my nerves weren’t so on end, I would laugh with him and Lilah would roll her eyes.

Lilah hands me the key and as soon as I reach over to push it into the slot, the door swings open, revealing a tall boy dressed in black trousers and a blue flannel.

“Hi!”

Words seem to be of no use to me in that moment as I merely stare at him in shock. Thankfully, Dean notices my sudden loss of speech and steps in.

“Hi, I’m Dean.” He introduces himself, sticking his hand out.

“Harry,” the boy says, smiling widely. He shakes Dean’s hand and turns to look at me again. “You’re not Sawyer Ashfield, are you?”

My name throws me back to Earth and I reply, “Yeah. I am.”

The boy looks troubled and for a moment and I wonder if I’m even on the correct floor. When the dorm lottery occurred in June, I had prayed and prayed I would at least end up with my second, if not first, choice of dorm. All the others were awful, despite the fact that they were solitarily for girls. Co-Ed didn’t bother me, especially because Thatcher Hall was the new co-ed building, with luxurious bathrooms and a fancy canteen. However, in spite of all that, the rules for rooms were still boys share with boys and girls share with girls. So Harry couldn’t possibly be my roommate.

“I suppose I’m your new roommate then,” he finally says, smiling again, and I feel like someone’s dropped a load of bricks on me.

“What?!” Lilah exclaims.

A head or two pokes out from the line of rooms behind us and I poke her side. She can be so loud sometimes.

Harry scratches the back of his neck, and for whatever reason, as his eyes scan us, he perks up. “You should probably come inside and put those bags down. They look heavy.”