Page 22 of Hollow

I awake with a start. Heart pounding, ears ringing. I sit up in my bed and look around, and for a moment, I can’t remember where I am. I can’t even remember who I am. I feel like I’ve been stripped of all my flesh and guts and I’m just a bag of bones floating through nebulous space.

Then it comes back to me. Where I am, who I am, and what I’m doing here. I’ve been waking up like this every single night since I arrived at the institute. In a cold sweat, covered in confusion, sitting up in my bed in a very dark and unfamiliar room.

I let out a shuddering breath, surprised to see my breath cloud over. It’s not that cold in here, and I can hear the occasional tick of the radiator pipes.

I also hear something else.

A soft wail.

A woman in tears.

I hold my breath, straining to hear it better. In the men’s faculty wing of the dormitories, there are only a couple of men: Professor Daniels, a verified mage who teaches the non-magic curriculum, Aman Desi, the linguistics teacher from India, plus Gale Winslow, the custodian, and myself. I’m unsure if Winslow has any magic or not, but if he doesn’t, he doesn’t seem all that bothered having to live among it.

But there are no women in this wing, and most of the rooms here are empty. However, that doesn’t mean Daniels or Desi doesn’t have a woman over. Same goes for Winslow, though he’s in his sixties and doesn’t talk much. I can’t imagine him ever making someone cry.

“Ichabod,” the woman says through a sob.

My heart comes to a standstill. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve imagined hearing Marie’s voice in the night, but tonight it feels different. It feels painfully real.

“Ichabod,” the voice says again. Very clearly Marie.

“No,” I say, my fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “No, you’re not here. You’re dead.”

“Ichabod,” she teases now, her voice changing. Getting mean. Getting more vibrant. “You think you can outrun your past, but you can’t. You certainly can’t outrun me. Not here. Not here, of all places. They will eat your soul, and I will only watch. I’ve led them to you!”

“Shut up!” I cry out, getting out of bed, my blankets tangled around my legs. Once I’m on my feet, the solidness of the rug under me, I feel a little more grounded. I wait and I listen, and her voice doesn’t come back.

Thank God.

But there is something else now. An unusual solid yet wet sound.

Coming from outside my door.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Followed by a soft scraping noise, as if something heavy is being dragged.

I swallow hard, a cold wash prickling down my neck.

What on earth is that?

I reach for my lantern and fumble for the matches on my desk. Luckily, there’s enough light from the moon coming in through the window for me to light the lantern’s candle quickly.

It flames up with a soft glow, my room cast in light and shadows. There’s not much to the rooms here, but they are a lot nicer than the ones I had been staying in before. I have a wardrobe, my bed, a desk, plus my own private toilet, basin, and tub. All of it overlooks the lake, which tonight is just a black oil slick beneath stagnant fog, the moon barely reaching through.

Slowly, I creep toward my door and stop once I reach it, listening once more.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

What the hell is that? I steady myself and put my hand on the knob and turn, curiosity getting the better of me as it always does, my lantern shaking, causing the light to dance.