Andrew led her around, gently guiding her through the motions of normalcy. Eat breakfast. Attend class. Walk to another class. Eat lunch. No, eat more than one bite. Another class. Evan arriving, escorting her to Contemporary Literature. One foot in front of the other. Onward, little soldier.
War had been declared long ago. What terrified her was the face of defeat looming on the horizon.
And now, she was at the Administration building, scheduled for an emergency session with Dr. Stieg. A fun-filled day at Casteel made complete. Shoving her way inside, she was body-checked roughly into the door frame.
Headmistress Logan. Now my day is truly complete.
"Miss Brody," she stated curtly. "You should be mindful of where you’re going."
"I am mindful. I’m going to see my shrink. In this building."
The switch flipped, and Nurse Ratched mode sprung to life within her wicked glare. "Your deliberate obtuseness doesn’t suit you. You know perfectly well that I meant you should watch where you were going, lest you cause harm. I would think, in light of your situation, that you would be more observant."
Autumn felt her fists curl at her sides. In her head, she heard every vicious word every bullying girl had ever said, remembered every threat made by her ex-boyfriend. She heard them all and she snapped.
"And I would think, in light of the fact a stalker ex-boyfriend, bent on killing me and anyone who attempts to thwart him, is back in town, that you would be less of a bitch and try not to exacerbate matters. Or would you prefer I join the Room 308 Suicide Club?"
The administrator moved to speak, but Autumn waved her away. "I don’t care what you have to say. You’ve been determined to make my life hell since September. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see myself to my doctor, who will help me process your blatant abuses of authority and lack of empathy."
Storming down the back corridor, she threw open Emma’s door without knocking, grateful to find her alone. With an angry scream, she threw her backpack on the floor and slammed the door behind her.
"Autumn! What’s wrong?"
The teenager laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "What, you mean aside from the asshole out to kill me or the fact I’m stark raving mad? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m tired of the head of this school thinking me being stalked is funny. Maybe I’m tired of cops telling me that everything’s going to be okay. Or that I will get through this, with time. I DON’T HAVE TIME."
Emma rose from her chair, gesturing to the couch across the room. "Sit down, please."
"Why? Do I scare you too?" Autumn shook her head. "My apologies."
"No, I’m just concerned you may hyperventilate and collapse," Emma said calmly. "Again, please sit."
With a grunt, Autumn flopped onto the sofa, legs stretched along the cushions. A part of her sensed she was being cruel, unnecessarily irate. She couldn’t make herself give a shit.
"I’d ask how you’re doing, but it’s pretty clear," Emma began. "You’re exhausted, fed up, scared. What else?"
Silence. What was the point? Talking couldn’t save her. If anything, it had made her life worse.
"Okay then. We can sit here. You’re in control."
It was a battle of wills: Emma silently reclined in her chair, studying her; she, in turn, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the doctor. Overhead, the clock ticked on, every shifting of the minute hand deafening. Autumn picked at lint on her uniform, contemplating walking out and never returning.
Where would I hide?
A mouse, roaring as if it were a lion. Foolish. What else was new? Her incompetence and poor choices were viral these days, and pulling Andrew into her chaos was one example of many.
"Guilty," she said at last.
Emma nodded thoughtfully. "What do you mean when you say guilty?"
"My parents. My friends. Not telling the cops right away who had tried to break in. But Andrew, most of all." She drew a deep breath, holding it to steady herself and exhaling slowly. "I should have gotten my shit together before dating. I was selfish. I wanted him around. I missed his smile, missed the smell of him. It’s so animalistic, but we’re animals beneath the veneer of intelligence, aren’t we? And now, he’s a worried wreck. Constantly texting to check in, making sure someone walks with me to class... He didn’t sleep at my place. How else would he know when I woke up? But the worst of it, Emma? No matter how guilty I feel for being a bloody burden, I can’t imagine him not there. Not now."
"If I’m hearing you right, Andrew has been looking after you since the incident at Christmas. You feel guilty because you need that support, want it, but also feel like you were wrong to let him in."
"Yeah, that pretty much says it. I’m a needy basket case. Psychic vampire."
Emma leaned forward, tilting her head. "He comes to you, though. That suggests that he wants to be there for you. That he cares. What about his feelings?"
Autumn shrugged, resting her head on the arm of the couch. "He cares a lot. I know he does, but..."
"But what?"
"I’m damaged goods. He deserves more." Tears. Always more to shed.
"You’re a woman struggling with a lot of painful memories and very real threats to your safety. But you’ve also come so far already. You may be down right now, but you’re not broken. You’re a survivor."
"I’m weak," Autumn countered. "It’s so hard now to even wake up, to move. I feel pathetic and helpless. Infantile."
"Is relying on supportive people not a means of survival?" Emma queried. "Not everyone can accept help."
"Doesn’t matter." Closing her eyes, Autumn listened to her heart rattling against her ribs. Palpitation pinball. "I’m too tired to care, too tired to let them go."
"Then maybe you should rest," Emma suggested. "We still have our Friday session this week. Try and eat something, head to bed early. Your teachers have all been told to excuse late homework and assignments for the time being. Focus on taking care of you."
Easier said than done. Rest? If it’s not Chris, it’s Nikki following me around. Weary, she pulled herself to a seated position, smoothing her kilt over her knees. No homework’s a perk, though.
"I’ll try."
"That’s all I ask," Emma replied gently. "And don’t worry about Logan. She and I will be having a talk tomorrow."
"Silver lining, right there."
Emma handed her backpack to her, escorting her to the reception area. Logan was long gone, to Autumn’s relief.
"Goodnight, Dr. Stieg."
"Goodnight, Autumn."
She shivered outside, checking her phone as she crossed the road towards the quad. Unsurprisingly, she had a text message from Andrew waiting for her.
Done Film Class at five. Dinner?
She tapped out a reply quickly, cursing her lack of gloves. Promised V I’d meet her in dining hall. Wanna join?
Beep. Sure. I’m in room MS302 if you want to meet me.
She glanced at the clock display. Five minutes to. Just enough time to jog over to Media Studies. Sliding her phone into her coat pocket, she rushed towards the warmth of the building, nodding to Lucas and Matt as they passed by. Miserable, slushy winter. She longed to hibernate, slip into a cave and await brighter days. She craved the sun.
Everything awful happens in winter.
The class was just exiting as she rounded the corner towards his room, her eyes scanning for messy hair and the omnipresent leather jacket. He was last to leave, accompanying Gretchen in a hushed discussion. Probably another talk about her. Her hand hit the wall, steadying her wavering frame.
Too much.
He saw her then, brow furrowed in worry. I must look like death. With a brief farewell, he rushed towards her, feeling her forehead.
"You’re clammy," he murmured.
"I just need food," she lied. "How was class?"
Andrew shrugged. "It was class. Are you sure you’re okay?"
"Andrew, I’m alright," she insisted. "Let’s go."
They silently took the
stairs, spilling out through a side door and looping back towards the dining hall. She studied his face from her periphery. Confused. Upset.
"I’m sorry for hovering," he said at last. "I can back off, if I’m annoying you. I’ve just been so worried."
Autumn winced. "It’s not that. I just feel so..."
"Smothered?"
"Needy," she corrected. "You have your own life to worry about."
They drew to a halt, Andrew moving in front of her. "You’re a part of my life. A huge part. You couldn’t make me stop worrying if you tried, so let me take care of you. Please."
"It’s hard to feel... worth it. But I can try, I guess."
"That’s enough for now. Food?"
"Yes – no, wait. I have something I need to do..."
Ten feet away, Professor Grant was passing by, headed towards faculty quarters. You’re not getting away this time, she vowed. Calling out to him, she jogged in his direction, Andrew close behind her.
"Miss Brody, what is it?"
Autumn forced a smile. "I hope you’re feeling better now. You were sick for a while."
He nodded, startled by her inquiry. Likely because I hate his guts and he knows it. "Pneumonia isn’t pleasant, but I’m recovered. Was that all?"
"Just one thing, quickly. My mother was telling me about a new coworker of hers, and she mentioned that her cousin attended Casteel a while back – I think it was when you studied here? I was curious if you knew her. I think Mom said her name was Mary Kennedy?"
Even in the dim light of dusk, Professor Grant visibly blanched. He knows her. Knew her. Just as I thought!
"Um, the name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t recall a face," he said curtly. "I do have to go. Goodnight, Miss Brody."
Autumn watched as he spun on his heel, storming off into the night. Liar. He knew more than the name. He knew something about her life – or death.
"Um, Autumn? What was that about?"
She turned towards Andrew, cursing her impulsive approach. Crap. Maybe it was time she came clean about her last big secret. Given his protective nature, it was only a matter of time before she or Veronica slipped up, and with the anniversary of Nikki’s death drawing closer, perhaps three heads were better than two.
"I’ll explain at dinner," she promised. "Speaking of, I’m freezing. Let’s go."
Reaching the dining hall in record time, driven by the cold, Autumn quickly ruled it out as a place for exposition of the ghostly kind. Veronica was hovering near the salad bar when they found her, at which point Autumn drew her aside, whispering in her ear.
"It’s time to tell him why we watch Chip Coffey."
Veronica’s eyes widened. "You sure?"
"Kinda have to. But not here." Louder, she called to Andrew, "Grab food and hit the suite?"
All in agreement, they swiped for their meals and ventured again into the frost and winds, lungs seizing. Reaching Andrew’s customary suite, they shut the door tightly and Autumn began to summarize the habits of her invisible roommate and the conspiracy theories of Ben. Andrew’s dinner grew cold as he listened, riveted by the tale.
"No wonder you always look exhausted," he commented. "Banging, crying, chairs sliding... Fuck, just the thought of a suicide in the room is enough to unnerve anyone. You can’t get a room transfer?"
"I mentioned it once to Lorraine. The short answer is no way," Autumn responded.
"I keep suggesting a séance, but she won’t have it," Veronica added, popping a fry in her mouth.
Autumn rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall. "Nikki’s pissed enough, thanks."
"Okay, so that brings us to tonight: what was with that conversation with Grant? He looked like he’d seen a ghost himself."
"What conversation?" Veronica asked.
Autumn sighed. "Before the break, he busted us out close to curfew, remember Andy? He was demanding my pass for Media Studies and just being a dick in general. Something you said stuck with me: that he was a student here, many moons ago."
"Ew, he was?" Veronica grimaced. "Why doesn’t he marry the place if he loves it so much?"
"Funny you say ‘marry’," Autumn remarked. "I decided to look up his staff profile when I got back to my room. Turns out he graduated in 1980 – the year that Mary Kennedy killed herself."
"Holy shit! So he knew her?"
"Yeah, V. And considering I look like her, it made me wonder how he knew her. I asked him tonight under false pretenses and he practically ran back to his cave or wherever he sleeps. Hence Andrew being filled in tonight." Reaching for her Coke, she mused aloud, "This adds a whole new level of creepy to the Gray’s Anatomy page and his appearance there."
"Um, what? I don’t remember this," Veronica queried. "What page?"
Oops. "The day I saw Ben, I also saw Nikki in the stacks. She led me to a heart diagram from Gray’s Anatomy on the floor. Next thing I know, Grant walks around the corner. Know what his research specialty is? The heart."
Andrew ran his hand through his hair nervously, tapping his foot. "Okay, I’m seriously concerned. There’s a track record of girls matching your description going AWOL, ghosts leaving you pictures of his work’s focus, and he went here the year the first girl died? This sounds like a bad Dean Koontz book, and we know how those tend to turn out."
"Brainwave: pull up his profile on the computer," Veronica insisted. "I’m curious."
"About?"
"Wait," she insisted, watching Andrew login. "It could be nothing. Scratching a creeped-out itch."
"Okay... Staff... Paul Grant. What am I looking for?"
"What year did he start teaching at Casteel Prep?"
Autumn stared at Veronica. "No..."
"Um, 1998," Andrew replied, spinning around and freezing. "What’s wrong?"
"The first disappearance after Mary was in 1999," Veronica said quietly.
Autumn shook her head in disbelief. "This... No, this is total coincidence. Veronica, you can’t possibly think-"
"Who better than a teacher?" she countered. "Autumn, he lives on campus. He went here, so he knows it better than almost anyone. And, as much as it scares me, he hates you more than usual, and every single girl looks like you."
"You know what else is weird? He’s always lurking around campus at night." Andrew drummed his fingers on the desk. "I mean, in the time I’ve been here, I’ve seen all of the faculty at some point, but late at night? Grant’s out at least once a week. Why?"
Autumn reached weakly for the captain’s chair, slumping into the seat. The crying. The warning that it’s my turn. The pattern going back to the start of his position. The heart diagram Nikki wanted me to have. His fixated torture in class... She couldn’t deny her own past suspicions, but to see them actually validated... Her stomach lurched and she closed her eyes tightly.
"Nikki didn’t kill herself," she murmured. "Those girls didn’t run away."
They were dead. All of them.
"Get her a damp paper towel," Andrew ordered Veronica.
Someone had killed Nikki alright. But not Nikki.
Your turn, the computer menaced in memory. They all died in the winter. ‘Tis the season. Who would kill her first: Chris, or Grant?
"You need to breathe," Andrew insisted beyond the din. "Breathe. In and out."
Was she not breathing? A chill caressed her shoulders. Death at her door. Knock-knock.
She inhaled sharply as cool paper towel pressed to her eyes. Evidence. They had no evidence, beyond the testimony of a spectre. A hand rubbed her back as she leaned forward and cradled her face in her palms. We need proof.
"Maybe we should get the nurse," Veronica suggested.
"No, I’ll be fine," she insisted. "Fine..." Inhale, exhale.
She glanced up, her nose grazing Andrew’s. He was crouched beside her, paper towel discarded beside him. I don’t want to die. Which meant one course of action remained: proving Grant was a murderer.
"I think we should get you back to your room," Andrew said quietly. "You�
��ve had a lot to deal with in the last two weeks already."
She reluctantly assented, the headache pulsing in her temples tipping the scale in her friends’ favour. Her escorts walked her to her room, Andrew again bucking the establishment. With a promise to rest, she hugged them both goodnight, locking the door at their behest.
Her toiletries were scattered on the bathroom floor once again. Nikki tantrum. Kicking them aside, she splashed her ashen face.
"I know, Nikki. I’ll make him pay," she promised. "He won’t get me."
A deep sigh echoed in the room, satisfied.
He won’t get me. She wanted to believe it. But as she tossed and turned for hours, dropping in and out of consciousness, her dreams were of coffins and funerals – and a pile of dead girls with brilliant red hair, tangled in a heap, hands outstretched in a plea for help.
TWENTY-SIX
Oakville; January 4th, 2012
"Autumn? Could you stay back please?"
She glanced up, nodding at Professor Kearney. "Sure. I’ll meet you tonight at eight, V?"
Veronica smiled. "Sleepover time! I’ll bring the snacks and such. See you later."
Autumn slid her books into her bag slowly, intentionally wasting time while her classmates cleared out. From the look of concern dashed with pity, she assumed Kearney wanted to discuss the events of the holiday break. Given her complete inability to focus in class, it seemed wise to solidify that whole "hand it in late" deal her therapist had arranged. The last straggler escaped into the hall, celebrating the end of the school day with a whoop and fist pump and she approached the front of the room cautiously.
"No need to look so concerned," the professor said, smiling. "I just wanted to check in and let you know that Dr. Stieg spoke with me about your ordeal. I am of course willing to extend your assignments as needed, and I won’t call on you unless you volunteer. I don’t want to add any stress right now."
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