I was aware of the dead weight of my body on the mattress as I lay in the early morning light. It was chilly outside the duvet and my arms had goosebumps, but I couldn't find the life inside me to move them. I was lost. My soul had given in and left me alone in this abyss of numbing agony. It was all so unreal that my mind failed to comprehend what had happened. Had I really lost my friend? Only a week ago I'd snuck out of this very room to hang out with him and now, as I lay staring blankly out onto the expanse of my room, I kept seeing his unresponsive body lying on the floor of the college hall. His soul had left his body and all in a moment, Zac's life had ended—much like my mum's had. He no longer existed in this world.
The endless darkness pushed in at me from above, like an enormous bird of prey, opening its huge talons over my soul. The feeling was disturbingly familiar and I couldn't believe I was back here again so soon. I wondered if Zac might somehow exist in another dimension which my mum had gone to, or if he was simply another soul floating adrift the river of existence. Was he waiting to take host of another body and another life? Or maybe that was it and he was gone forever, leaving only memories in the minds of those that knew him.
A gentle knock at my door stirred my mind and I focused on the inanimate object I had aimlessly been staring at—the desk chair. It was strange, I thought, that sometimes you could become so lost in your own thoughts that you ceased to be able to see, despite your eyes being wide open.
"Ava, love? You awake?" My dad's voice was quieter and gentler than usual, but I couldn't find the will to speak. If I stayed quiet, he'd think I was still asleep and I could drift off into my sea of thoughts again. I waited silently. Sure enough, the creak of the floorboard indicated his departure.
It wasn't until the second knock came at the door that I realised I'd drifted off into a light sleep. My body had finally given into exhaustion and let me fall asleep, if only for a short while. As I glanced at my phone, I saw that a few hours had passed, and I felt a tinge of relief at having successfully made it through two hours of the day.
"Ava?" The door opened a fraction and I felt dread yawn open before me. I didn't want to talk—not yet. His head appeared around the door, his eyes filled with concern. "I've brought you some tea and toast, love," he said, nudging the door open with his shoulder and stepping into my room. Placing the tray down on the floor next to my bed, he looked at me.
"I know it's hard, love, but try and eat something." He gave me a sympathetic smile which I didn't return before walking out of my room again, closing the door behind him with a small click. At least my dad understood me, probably more than my mum ever had. Mum would have been coaxing me out of bed to go for some retail therapy rather than leaving me to wallow, but somehow, he knew to leave me alone. I couldn't face anyone or anything today. My mind was full of Zac, and I began to wonder if he'd still be alive if I'd never met Sam.
Glancing over the side of the bed at the tray of toast, I hadn't even the energy to turn my nose up at the food. I simply was not inclined to eat. Pulling the duvet over my head, I listened to my steady breathing until my phone buzzed on my bedside table, making me jump. Irritated, I pushed the duvet off my head and reached out for my phone. As I grasped it and brought it to my face, I felt a small pang of disappointment, mixed with guilt, that it wasn't Sam. It was Louisa.
Feeling suddenly hot, I flung the duvet off my legs, swung around and sat up. It was the most I had moved since last night and my head spun, sending tiny blue white smears in front of my vision. I blinked and rubbed at my eyes, wincing as my arm throbbed.
Looking down at my bandaged arm, I remembered how Sam had pulled my sleeve up. Does this matter? he'd said, holding me against his chest and then finally admitting his feelings for me. But his use of the words 'I want you' seemed strange now. Was this in the romantic sense or was it another cryptic phrase I had to make sense of? As the spots cleared from my vision, I glanced down at my phone to look at Louisa's message.
Louisa. Hey babes, I hope you're ok. Well not ok, but you know what I mean. xxx
I stared at Lou's message for a while longer, then chucked it onto the bed without another glance. I didn't have a response for that. Getting up, I crossed to the window. Maybe some fresh air would inject some life into me and allow me, at least, the cathartic release of tears. Gathering the curtains away from the glass, I opened the latch and pushed the window open, breathing in the chilly morning air. My lungs cooled, and I felt the goosebumps travel down my arms, but I felt no more alive than I had a moment ago. I was still numb and empty. It was like I had forgotten how to cry and had no recollection of how I had done it before.
But as I stared out into the fields, something caught my eye and I blinked, my heart missing a beat. Sam was standing on the edge of the field, looking up at my window. Our eyes locked and he stood deadly still with a dark expression that made me go instantly cold.
A shock of fear ran through me, and I ducked inside the window, closing the latch and letting the curtains fall shut. My heart was beating hard against my rib cage as if trying to escape, and the floor felt precarious beneath my feet. It was then that I felt the usual looming of eternal darkness—but was it everything that had happened with Zac or was it fear I felt?
* * *
The weekend passed in a cloud of toxic emotions, and I found myself almost glad to go back to college on Monday, if nothing more than to force myself to face reality. I'd already dodged the huge display of flowers at the front gate but there was only so much longer I could stick my head in the sand. Soon enough, I'd have to face facts. It was when I reached class and saw the gaping empty seat next to me, that it finally hit me hard, like an arrow in the chest. Zac wouldn't be there. He never would be. The universe had simply continued without him as if the loss of him was miniscule in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps it was—but it didn't feel like it. It seemed oddly melancholy in that tiny space, as if some dreadful ghost would remain there in his stead.
"Ava?" Mr Jenson's inquiring voice halted my thoughts and I flicked my eyes up. "Are you okay?" His voice was quiet and caught me off guard. The memory of his stern, authoritative voice from the other night had altered my opinion of him, and now here he was, altering it all over again.
"Yes," I smiled with some effort. Everything inside me was screaming for me not to press my mouth into a curved line, but I managed it despite the all-consuming feelings of constraint inside my chest. The smile felt empty though, and reminded me of how I'd been after my mum's death. I'd been so broken and fearful. The thought was disturbing and I wiped it from my mind as quickly as I could, but it was too late. All those sleepless nights came rushing back to me: the screaming, the stench of disinfectant in my nostrils, the blood running down my face that turned out to be tears. I raised a hand to my face and was shocked to find that there were tears now.
"Ava..." This time, the voice was Louisa's. Her eyes were wide with concern as she reached forward to take my arm.
"Girls, perhaps I should call Ava's—"
"She'll be fine," was all Louisa said to Mr Jenson, giving him a glance of cool suspicion, which didn't go unnoticed. As she grasped my hand and led me out of the classroom towards the girls' bathroom, I began to compose myself, already feeling foolish for crying at the sight of Zac's empty chair. I needed to get a grip. I couldn't go back to how I was before, and I needed to be more aware than ever right now, what with Mr Jenson keeping a close eye on me.
As I glanced at Louisa, I knew she would have been going over all the same things that had happened this weekend involving Sam, Blake and Mr Jenson. I suppose I should have been glad that at least I wasn't in this alone. Especially if, if it came to light, they knew something about Zac's death.
The girls' bathroom mirrors were smeared with lipstick and finger prints, and as I looked at my reflection, it brought back memories of the other night when I'd been internally scolding myself for not eating properly. But now, it seemed I looked worse, if that was possible. My eyes stared back at me blankly, without life or meaning, and my cheeks looked pinched in at the sides. I looked more exhausted and drawn than ever.
"When was the last time you ate something?" Louisa asked, concern etched on her face.
I shrugged absently and noted my appetite stir inside and then mellow out again. I turned towards Louisa. "There's something weird going on, Lou," I said.
"Yeah, it's called grief. That's why you haven't eaten or slept or—"
"No," I interrupted her. "Not that. I saw how you looked at Mr Jenson. You think he has something to do with Zac too, don't you?" She pursed her lips and lowered her gaze. Nodding silently, she drew in a shaky breath and leant against the sinks. "Yeah. Blake's involved too. I don't know what it is though."
"What makes you think Blake is mixed up in it?" At this Louisa raised an eyebrow at me as if to question my sanity. "I mean, I know we heard him the other night, but what else have you seen to make you wonder?"
Louisa thought for a moment before shaking her head slightly. "I don't know exactly. It's just that there's this dynamic in the group—like there's some kind of male testosterone war going on, but... it's different. Before, everyone listened to Sam, but lately, Blake seems to be—" Louisa sighed in frustration. "I don't know. Maybe I'm imagining it all. It's just weird. They do everything and go everywhere together, but it's more than just a group of friends hanging out..." Louisa trailed off; her eyes seemed to see straight through the cubicle door in front of her. "I remember this one night when I arrived at Blake's, they were all really high on something. I don't know what it was, but it was unnatural. Blake's eyes were completely black." I listened intently as I recalled Sam's eyes. "And those marks. They all have those marks like it's some kind of cult," she said, meeting my gaze. "There's this one mark and I know it sounds stupid—"
"An hourglass?" I whispered.
"Yeah. You've noticed it too?"
I felt sickness in the pit of my stomach. What was Sam involved in, and how was I going to stay clear of him? Did I have the strength to stay away? "Sam has marks all over his body," I muttered. Louisa arched an eyebrow at this, but I continued regardless. "But that hourglass tattoo on his forearm. It seemed to stand out from the other marks. I hadn't thought much of it until now."
"Blake has the same. Franco and Jules do too."
A thought flicked into my mind. "You don't think Mr Jenson has one too, do you?"
Louisa's complexion paled before she pursed her lips defiantly. "I don't know, but I'm sure as hell not going to wait around to find out." Without another word, Louisa grabbed her bag and headed for the door with me in close pursuit.
"Wait! Lou, what are you going to do?" I hissed, grabbing her by the arm. "You can't just march on up to him and say 'Hey Mr Jenson, I think there's something fishy about you. Show me your arm.'"
Louisa looked indignant. "What do you take me for, Ava Blume? I have far more panache that that!" She grinned widely, showing off her pearly white teeth, hitched down her top a little and marched down the corridor. I knew there was no point in chasing after her. Once Louisa had a plan in her head, there was no diverting it and maybe she would get lucky. In the meantime, I decided to make my way to the college computer suite to do some snooping of my own. Even if I found nothing, it would distract my mind from thoughts of Zac for a few minutes. Those shadows were looming precariously close today.
To my relief, the tiny room was almost dead, so I found myself a quiet spot on the far wall. I chucked my bag under the computer desk, opened up a browser and paused for a moment, my hands poised over the keys. I quickly typed cults in the local area. A number of pages popped up including a news article on a satanic cult who had mutilated a pony in Dartmoor, but nothing spiked my interest. I tried again. Local cults with hourglass tattoo. I knew I was being crude, but I didn't want to leave any stone unturned. Again, there was nothing.
"Damn," I whispered before simply putting in hourglass symbol. A few pages popped up amongst computerised images of hourglasses, none of which looked like the tattoos I'd seen. I clicked on a link that said, "Hourglass Symbol and its meaning." The page opened and I scrolled through the information.
The hourglass has been used as a time keeping device for years and even today is used to symbolise time passing. The symbol is up for personal interpretation but in the past, some have said that the two triangles represent the dichotomy of existence and the cycles of life. However, others believe it to represent nature: one part symbolising the sky and the other, the earth.
I clicked back and tried another link.
The hourglass is seen as the emblem of life and the eternal passage of time. The sand slipping away reminds us that life is limited and we should make the most of the time we have on earth. It also symbolises the eternal loop between life and death.
My heart was in my throat as I clicked another link.
The hourglass is a symbol of time and death. The irreversible sand indicates the fatal aspect of time slipping away with nothing to do and no power to stop it.
Time and death. Could they really have something to do with Zac's death? Clicking on the search bar again, I decided to try one last search. I quickly typed hourglass and life and death cults, but there were just the same pages. Sam's cult must have been so underground that there was nothing on the group. I sighed in frustration as I cleared my search and leant down to grab my bag from under the table.
"Find everything you were looking for?" came a male's voice which I recognised. I ducked back above the table and turned around in my chair. Mr Jenson stood directly behind me and as guilt washed over me, I had the irrational fear that I hadn't wiped the browser page behind me. Just as I had the thought, his gaze flicked behind me and back again, but held nothing in it.
"Yes, thank you, Sir," I smiled, trying hard to relax my posture. He leant on the table behind him, bracing his hands on the side, and I noticed that his sleeves were pulled up. They were bare. I felt a sense of relief at the same time as a small stab of disappointment. I'd felt like Louisa and I were onto something, and now, neither of us had come up with anything.
"Are you sure you're okay, Ava?" His voice was quiet and his eyes, although searching mine, seemed genuine. I began to relax. Louisa and I had run away with ourselves. Maybe Mr Jenson was innocent. He seemed to be just another teacher concerned for his student. I nodded.
"I know what it's like to uproot, and it's tough going. You've had it tougher than most. I just wanted to check in to make sure you're okay."
"Yeah. I'm fine," I said, pulling my bag over my shoulder as I stood up.
"Well if you need to talk to anyone, there's me or plenty of other teachers that can help or lend a listening ear. I just wanted you to know." With that, he smiled, tucked his hands in his pockets, and turned to walk away just as Louisa appeared. She eyed Mr Jenson as she walked past him without a word and went straight to me. Flinging herself into a chair next to me, she huffed in indignation.
"Well, that was a wild goose chase and he was here with you all along."
"His shirt sleeves were rolled up. There were no marks," I said plainly, and Louisa's shoulders dropped in disappointment.
"And I'm guessing you haven't been researching for that essay by the look on your face..."
"Nope," I said, relaxing back into the chair now that Mr Jenson was gone. "Nothing on cults. I just looked up hourglass symbolism. Essentially, it represents life and death and the slipping away of time," I said.
"But what does that have to do with the tattoos they all have?"
"I don't know..." I said, "Unless, they're in some kind of cult that's to do with life and death. I don't know..."
Louisa frowned. "You don't really think they've killed anybody, do you?" Louisa's face had paled some, despite her usual steely resolve.
I shifted in my seat nervously. "I don't know," I said quietly, "but it's odd that they were all acting weird when..." Louisa and I had the same expression of loss on our faces. Zac. I was aware that my own complexion had probably lost its colour as I thought about Zac's lifeless body, but I needed to stay focused. Finding out what was going on with Sam would be my distraction from Zac. Maybe that was the way to deal with grief. Plus, if Sam was mixed up in some kind of life and death cult, what did that mean for me? I was beginning to think I was more involved than I wanted to be.
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Any ideas?! Let me know!! Rosy x