Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE¶
A word before we begin.
Duncan will try to convince you I do not belong here.
He does that often.
It is not personal. It is habit.
But before he closes the door on me again, you should understand two simple things.
One,
You only notice certain things after they’ve already changed.
He thinks he controls the order of events.
He doesn’t.
And two,
I am not inside him.
I am beside him.
And I am not leaving.
The hallway outside Duncan’s room felt narrower than it should have.
Not physically. Just… insistently so. Like the building had learned his mood and adjusted accordingly.
The lights above him buzzed with the patience of something that had been working too long and had stopped caring.
His hood stayed up. His hands stayed buried in his pockets. His footsteps landed heavier than necessary, as if he was trying to convince the floor he was allowed to exist on it.
The dorm door came into view.
He stopped for half a second.
Then unlocked it.
The room was still there.
That was the first strange thing.
Nothing had changed.
Nothing was missing.
Nothing was new.
And yet it felt like someone had been waiting inside it and left just before he arrived.
A desk sat where it always sat. Books stacked on it the way books always stack when no one is reading them, but no one is ready to throw them away either.
A chair sat buried under clothes that no longer counted as organized or messy.
Pinned to the wall were fragments of older decisions. Ideas that had survived longer than their motivation. Duncan didn’t look at them properly.
Not because he couldn’t. Because he chose not to.
But nothing was broken. And that was the worst part.
Everything was simply… abandoned.
Duncan closed the door behind him.
The sound was too final.
He exhaled once, slow and controlled.
“I just need sleep.”
A lie said often enough begins to sound like a plan.
The Watcher did not speak immediately. That meant he was watching closely. He could feel it.
He dropped his bag. It hit the floor too softly.
Even that felt suspicious.
He kicked off his shoes and moved through the room like he was trying not to wake something that was already awake.
Then he stopped at the bathroom door and paused.
His reflection was waiting in the mirror before he entered.
That was new. He ignored it.
The bath filled slowly.
Steam gathered like it had nowhere else to go.
He sat on the edge of the bath for a moment longer than necessary.
He wasn't thinking. In fact he was trying to do the opposite; avoiding.
The day kept trying to replay itself behind his eyes.
The library.
The voice that wasn’t his.
The way everyone looked at him after.
He pressed his fingers into his palm until it hurt slightly.
The old man's words.
His strange bully.
The altercation.
“Not now,” he muttered under his breath.
It wasn’t a request.
It was a rule.
He stood up too quickly, hoping his movement would interrupt the memory.
But it didn’t.
It followed anyway.
That was the point where he usually won.
Today, he didn’t.
He was delaying something, but he didn’t know what.
He quickly turned the water off to prevent its gentle running from blending into the silence around him.
His desperate hands grabbed onto his headphones, slapping them onto his empty ears, then he turned the volume up.
Too loud.
Good.
Duncan lowered himself into the bath.
Its heat wrapped around him loosening his muscles and his thoughts finally began to dull.
It was starting to work, and that should have been the end of it.
But it never is.
The music continued.
Then it didn’t.
It didn't stop, but it sounded… farther away.
As if it had been moved into another room.
Duncan frowned without opening his eyes.
The water shifted under him causing his fingers to twitch slightly.
Something about the tub felt wrong.
The silence grew to a deafening degree, and this is when Duncan opened his eyes.
DUNCAN'S POV¶
I woke up feeling terrible. I felt sick; really just... off.
I kept my eyes closed for a few extra seconds, considering whether or not getting up was worth the effort. It wasn't. Is it ever?
Unfortunately, staying in bed wasn't an option either. I had stuff to do; like eat and drink water and stuff; you know, to stay alive.
When I finally opened my eyes, the room looked exactly the same as it always did; same ceiling, same walls, same shameful pile of clothes I kept promising myself I'd deal with.
Nothing was different. So why did everything feel, misaligned?
I can never really figure out what's bothering me on most mornings. I figure I'm just not really a morning person; and most days I just go along with it. So I sat up in solidarity. But I immediately regretted it.
A wave of dizziness rolled through my head, stayed with me for a few seconds then faded away again, leaving me mildly nauseated.
"Fantastic."
Maybe I just needed to wait til my brain caught up with the rest of me, though it never really did. And that irritated me more than it should have.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a second.
My stomach felt unsettled.
My head felt heavy.
Also, there was this strange mood spreading within me, right from the center of my chest. That feeling you get after an annoying argument you can't help but recall later. I'd only just woken up for Pete's sake. Also...who in the world is Pete?
I didn't have time for all this thinking, so I picked up my watch from the bedside table and put it on as I always do. Its ticking seemed louder than usual. Or maybe I was just paying crazy attention to it.
Either way, it wasn't helping. So I counted down from five and sprung my body up.
The room spun slightly and I almost fell over.
Sigh.
This day was already a pain in the ass.
My desk was still a disaster, my chair buried under a sea of clothes. My phone was exactly where it should have been.
I grabbed it and checked it.
Then checked it again a few seconds later for absolutely no reason.
How annoying.
I checked it even though I knew for a fact there'd be nothing new in it.
Not even a sorry school-group text.
Nothing had happened yet. So why was I already exhausted.
I stood there for another minute, staring at the blank black screen, trying to negotiate with my own consciousness.
Eventually my bladder won the argument.
I rubbed my eyes, then dragged my sorry self into the bathroom.
The mirror wasn't particularly encouraging.
My hair looked like it had been assembled by committee, and my eyes weren't much better.
"Weirdo."
The mirror offered no objections. My attempt at a smile revealed my need for a good teeth-brushing; and maybe an uncomplicated face wash, just to look alive.
I mean let's face it, I can't get myself to look alive enough to inspire confidence. But just alive enough to avoid concern? I could nail that in a heartbeat.
The sink was cold against my hands, and the water was slightly colder, which helped more than it should have.
When I finally looked up again, the mirror gave me the same disappointing result.
Better than before.
Still not great, cause I smelled terrible.
I stank of sweat and stale sleep. A bath would probably fix that.
Probably.
I'd never realized how relaxing baths can be before getting into uni, and they assigned me a room without a working shower. Strange huh?
"Oh how the stars align."
I giggled slightly; how ridiculous. People buy this sh*t too!
The tub was already filled.
I stopped.
"Wait a second...didn't I.."
That wasn’t right.
I stood there for a moment, waiting for an explanation for why it was still filled, to magically come to me.
The tub was completely filled; the water in it cold, soapy and still.
How did I get into bed last night?
My memory didn’t answer. It didn’t even try.
Eventually I shook my head.
Whatever, I probably spaced out from how tired and stressed out I was.
I just needed to drain away yesterday's filth and draw a fresh bath.
The water made a low sound as it disappeared down the pipe. While I waited, I went back to my room and grabbed my phone to at least fill the silence out with some music.
I especially needed it today so I didn’t find myself thinking too much. All those seemingly happy-go-lucky artists screaming into my ears through those headphones always seemed to know what to say to slightly turn up my mood.
This particular playlist's name was "Get Your Life Together".
A title I created on an adrenaline high after one of my gym workouuts years ago; my first year of uni; before all the work came in, dragging along a load of despair with it. A title that only got funnier every time I read it.
I dropped my headphones over my ears and hit play.
The room exploded, nearly launching me backwards.
"WHERE THERE IS DESIRE THERE'S GOTTA BE..."
Just blatantly screaming at me!
"What the—"
I ripped the headphones off.
The music kept playing.
I stared at them.
They stared back.
Wait...
The speaker? The bluetooth speaker!
A device I hadn't touched in weeks, but one that was currently connected to the brick of a phone I owned.
The walls practically vibrated. The singer seemed deeply invested in my personal development.
I wasn't, but i didn't bother turning it down until...
Three sharp knocks landed on my door.
I froze and had to pause the music; just to make sure my mind wasn't playing its usual tricks on me.
Another three followed.
"Great," I muttered as I shuffled across the room.
When I opened the door, I didn’t even get a full second to process it.
Something hit me. Hard!
My head snapped sideways and I staggered back into the room before my neck could even catch up with it. My hand flew up instinctively to comfort my jaw before I could even come to terms with what had just happened.
I was so confused. BUt the sharp pain gave me something bigger to worry about.
“What the hell is your problem?”
The words came out before I could filter them.
I blinked through the blur in my vision, trying to reorient myself.
The doorway was still there.
Someone was still standing in it.
Some guy, built just like me but who could apparently pack an elephant-sized punch.
He had this expression like he had just done something mildly inconvenient instead of violently unnecessary.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tasted copper.
“What… was that for?”
He looked at me for a second like he was confirming something.
Then he nodded.
“Oh. It’s you.”
That made no sense.
Before I could respond, he stepped forward again.
Fast.
I raised my arms too late.
Somehow, he'd gotten the second hit to land just as cleanly as the first. Enough to knock me completely off balance.
I stumbled sideways into my desk.
“What the hell—are you insane?”
This time he actually exhaled like he was annoyed.
“Don’t act confused.”
He rolled his shoulder like he was loosening up.
Somehow, his words were hitting me slower than his punches. I didn't understand a thing about what this guy was on about.
I pushed myself upright, ignoring the ringing in my ears.
“Dude! I don’t even know you,” I said, my right hand still half-raised like it might matter.
My ears stayed ringing and my mouth tasted wrong.
When my vision cleared enough to focus, I finally got a good look at him.
He was closer now.
Same guy.
Dark jacket. Clean and unbothered. Which was wild to me considering the events that just took place.
He had no tension in his shoulders, no hesitation in his feet. Even his breathing looked controlled; on-purpose breathing.
People don’t usually look like that after hitting someone.
Or maybe they do.
Maybe I just don’t know those people.
There was a faint smirk on his face, but it wasn’t emotional.
It was positioned as if to say I was something he already recognized and he was now correcting for being slightly out of place.
He rolled his shoulder once, loose and casual, like he’s checking that his body is still working properly. Then he tilted his head a little.
And that’s when it hit me properly.
I knew exactly who he was.