Unforgettable (OLD COPY DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 9

The sun has already begun to set by the time I make it back to campus to eat with Astrid and Tessa in the dining hall. I can feel their eyes watching me once in a while, only to look up and see that they've already averted their gaze elsewhere. My phone abruptly buzzes in my skirt pocket and I pull it out to see that an unknown number has texted me as I open the message.

"Hi Kara, this is Shawn, I was wondering if you'd maybe want to go to a movie Thursday after school, maybe around 4?"

Even after the incident with Luke, I still feel a fluttering in my chest as I read the message a couple of times to make sure that I'm reading it right and that it is indeed real.

"Who texted you?" Astrid asks and I realize then that I've been grinning stupidly at the text for a few minutes too long.

"That Shawn guy you had me ask out at the mall," I tell her and enjoy the relief that crosses their faces.

See guys? I'm normal, you can relax and stop treating me like a psychopath who's about to have a meltdown, I think to myself silently.

"What did he say?" Tessa begs as she cranes her neck like she's trying to read the message.

"He asked me if I'd maybe want to go to a movie on Thursday," I tell her coyly, unable to keep the joy out of my voice and she grins.

"Oh that's great!" she squeaks, "Kara, I'm so happy for you."

A blush creeps across my face at her overreaction as I shrug, "Well, it helped that we had gone to school together, he even remembered me," I say and her eyes widen.

"Oooo, maybe he had a little crush on you before you left for your sophomore year," Astrid teases me and I can't help but smile.

"Yeah, maybe he did," I murmur as I grin down at my phone and feel a sense of hope for once that I may have a chance at another friendship, the bleakness from the past few days washing away as I try to forget.

"So what are you going to text back?" Tessa pries and I gnaw on my lip.

"I don't know, what should I say?" I inquire as she fidgets with the cuff on her sleeve.

"Just say yes and ask him what movie he was thinking about wanting to see," Astrid suggests and I nod as I type the reply and send it.

"There, it's sent," I announce.

"Great, did you want to maybe go to the stables? I heard that Kashmir's got a new rider and I've missed him," Tessa suggests as I shake my head.

"I think I'm going to turn in early for tonight," I say as I stand and stretch, "you guys go on without me."

They exchange a quick glance before Tessa shrugs, "Suit yourself, but if you get any more texts...let me know," she says as she winks at me.

We go our separate ways and I take my time walking back to my room as I ponder over everything that's happened.

Luke was at the swim-meet, he had to have been and must have influenced that girl somehow to convince her to commit suicide. But why? How is he getting out?

I shake my head as I open the door to my dorm and close it behind me. My laptop comes to mind and I plug it in and start it up, the screen flickering to life and adding a blue light to my room, which is currently turning gray from the twilight sky outside. After looking up my competitor's Facebook, I myself remembering that her name was Cynthia Heartwood, I only manage to find several posts from family and friends expressing their shock from her suicide.

She has no mutual friends with anyone at Greenwood, including Luke or Eleanora as I peruse her friends' list and scroll through her newsfeed.

Swim-meets, homecoming, trips to the mall, trips to the beach with friends, I note as I look through several photos that she had been tagged in. Luckily it seems like most of her posts are public, likely to show that she's a good student to any college recruiter who cares to look her up. 

At last, a single post from several months ago stands out to me as I stop scrolling.

"Even though it's been two years, I still can't get over losing you, I still miss my friend, Finn Delacroix, Christmas isn't the same without you," the post reads as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

There's a picture of the two of them standing together, a much younger Cynthia grinning into the camera as they stand in front of a row of lockers, Finn appearing to look like a senior in high school while Cynthia obviously looks like she's maybe only fifteen. Shivers run up my spine as I stare at the photo for a long moment before I click on the comments.

Another comment from Cynthia is tagged to the photo as I read it over and over again.

"I am not afraid to say this, I'm an Unfamiliar too," –Cynthia Heartwood, December 25th.

Someone is killing Unfamiliars again, I realize as I stand to get away from the laptop, like it may somehow harm me as I bolt for the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

Bile is burning in my throat as I resist the urge to vomit and instead rush over to the sink and turn on the tap. I open the medicine cabinet and grab for the bottle of medication that I had had filled from the nurse's office, as students aren't allowed to keep more than a single dosage in their room. My hand shakes as I rattle a pill into my hand and put it in my mouth before I replace the bottle and shut the mirror door.

You might see things because of PTSD, just be sure to take these, no more than one a day, I can hear Mrs. Nox's voice as I swallow the pill and hope that it will go to work soon.

I cup my palms to fill them with water and rinse my face several times before I blot my face dry with a towel and look up at my reflection.

A face from the other side of the bathroom looks back at me in the mirror as I stop moving, the breath freezing in my lungs. Dark brown eyes watch me calmly as they are set in a face that I've just seen, one that I never thought I would see again as my heart starts to pound in my chest and the hairs on my arms prickle.

I can't breathe and I can't scream, the ability to do anything at all escaping me as, at last, I hunch forward and look away from the mirror.

He's not real, I grip the edge of the vanity countertop as I take a deep breath and my heart continues to beat in my throat.

He's not real he's not real he's not....

I wince when I look up in the mirror to see that he's moved closer by maybe a step or two. His eyes are glassy and indifferent, not like in the photo I've just seen where he was full of happiness and life.

"You're not real," I tell him as he merely looks back at me, an unsettling calm registering in his face.

I hear his voice then, plain as day as he opens his mouth and speaks.

"Find her killer."