The room lay shrouded in darkness, except for a thin sliver of light slicing through the curtains. The faint beam illuminated the sleek, polished surfaces of the walls.
The sharp, echoing clacks reverberated through the darkness, each step a jolt to her heightened senses. She gripped the edge of her desk, her heart pounding in sync with the relentless rhythm.
There was someone.... someone she did not know, did not recognize...
The air thickened with anticipation. Each sound brought the unknown closer. A cold dread seeped into her thoughts, feeding her growing fear.
She felt the faintest brush of movement near her feet, closer than before. Her heart lurched as she caught sight of them—feet, shrouded in darkness, halting just few steps from her own.
Panic surged through her veins. An invisible hand tightened around her throat, squeezing the air from her lungs. Every nerve was on edge, her mind was screaming for escape.
''Miss Pastorio...'' The rough and gravelly voice boomed across the room, deep and resonant.
Her breath hitched. The unexpected sound jolted her out of her fear, catching her off guard.
The fact that the person knew her name added a layer of confusion, yet the voice stirred a sense of recognition within her.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, her eyes traveled upward, tracing the path from the scuffed leather to the midnight blue fabric clinging to him.
'Who could it be? Why does this voice seem so known yet so distant?'
The familiarity of the voice tugged at her memory, but the answer remained just out of reach. Her fear began to ebb, replaced by a gnawing curiosity.
''Mi senti, signorina?'' The voice spoke again, closer this time.
She flinched, and took an involuntary step back, her hand instinctively reaching out to the wall behind her, the sudden proximity startled her.
A slow, cold breeze brushed against her ear. Goosebumps erupted along her arms, sending a shiver down her spine. The fine hairs on her neck stood on end, and a slight tremor ran through her body.
The figure moved closer, and as the faint moonlight hit his frame, she noticed something gleam on his chest—a polished metal badge.
Reality hit her like a cold wave, crashing over her with brutal clarity. The words 'GranVille University' were etched forcibly, standing out sharply on the glossy badge, each letter mocking her with its stark clarity.
Lyraea's eyes, wide with a mix of dread and curiosity, flicked to his face.
When she finally saw his face, recognition dawned on her. She knew who he was. The stern lines of his face, the piercing eyes that seemed to see right through her, and the air of authority he carried—it was unmistakable.
He was Sir Paoli—the security head of GranVille university.
Lyraea's brows furrowed deeply. She was perplexed, shocked, confused and what not. This was no phantom but flesh and bones. There was nothing supernatural here, just shadows cast by her own fears.
Her mind, still tangled in the remnants of her nightmares, had deceived her, yet again
'How did I mistake him for something otherworldly?' Tension drained from her shoulders. Her lips curled at the absurdity of her own thoughts.
But her relief was short-lived as she locked eyes with the man standing before her. His expression screamed 'No Nonsense' louder than a drill sergeant at boot camp.
He was 'Sir' Paoli, the renowned tyrant of GranVille.
His reputation preceded him for his uncompromising stance on rules and regulations. Stories of his strict enforcement of university policies were legendary among the students. He was a man who believed in order and discipline, and he had little patience for those who strayed from the path.
Lyraea's heart sank further as she realized the gravity of her situation.
"Miss Pastorio..." His voice was a low, authoritative rumble that sent chills down her spine. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
No, he wasn't loud, but Lyraea thought her heart just did a summer salt, and her mind shouted to cut off its circuits.
She swallowed hard, her mind scrambling for an explanation that wouldn't sound like a feeble excuse.
"Actually I… I was working on an assignment, Sir. I lost track of time."
His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her with an intensity that made her feel even smaller.
"You know the rules, Miss Pastorio. The classrooms, library, playground, everything in the university, everything.... is off-limits after hours."
If she thought having nightmares was the worst, she was wrong—totally wrong!
Facing him was like facing a wall of solid, unyielding, utterly-immovable, totally unreasonable, completely-unbending, and absolutely uncompromising disapproval that was a million, billion, trillion times harder than diamonds!
Alas! She needed to get a hold of herself, she still had to answer him.
'Peace, dear brain, tame your thoughts, and breathe anew.... Let's not carried away please!'
She shook her head. The jumbled puzzle pieces of her mind fell into place.
"I know, sir. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She was stammering, head lowered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Reasoning? With him? She must be desperate to die. She already knew she was doomed, her fate all but sealed! Didn't he just throw her last ditch to convince him out of the window.
He remained utterly unimpressed. His face was set in an expression of stony seriousness.''Seven
"See that it doesn't. Now, gather your things and go home. And remember, Miss Pastorio, discipline is the foundation of success."
Lyraea nodded, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Fidgeting with her hands, she peaked at him from the corner of eyes. But wait he wasn't there, where did he go?
'Graaateee, Garrrreteee, Grrraattteee.'
The loud grating sound rang her ears. Instinctively, she raised both hands to her ears, trying to muffle the abrasive noise.
'TIK'
With a flick of a switch, the room brightened, revealing rows of empty desks, and neatly arranged stacked chairs.
Mr. Paoli's eyes scanned the room, confirming the pristine order. The chairs stood perfectly aligned, their legs uniformly parallel. Not a single chair was out of place just as he was told by the cleaner.
When he turned back to her, he saw her standing still, hands pressed over her ear, near the only desk and chair that were unstacked, unlike the others in the room.
"Could you please stop dragging the chairs? It makes me feel uneasy."
He frowned, puzzled. He hadn't heard any noise, no dragging of chairs or any other sound that would warrant such a reaction. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights.
"I didn't…"
"Ah... Thank you." She looked up, tapping her ear slightly. "Sorry but it was horrible."
He stared at her, bewildered. His thoughts were a jumble, struggling to make sense of the situation.
But the rumors.
He had heard about her mental struggles but dismissed them. Obviously, he hadn't drag anything just now. Yet now, seeing her react to nothing, she did seem troubled.
'Zzzz...Zzzz'
Suddenly, his phone rang, shrill like a death knell. He glanced at the caller ID. It was the night guard.
''Hello....Hello?''
He couldn't make out the words on the other end of the line. He turned to leave, hoping to get better reception outside.
"Wait," Lyraea blurted out. "Where are you going? Aren't you going to patrol the halls, and watch over me until I go out?"
Mr. Paoli's brows furrowed deeper, a testament to his growing annoyance. It was already late, and she was still here, adding to his workload.
He had been putting up with Lyraea Pastorio for far too long. Now the poor signal was the last straw, pushing him to his limit.
"I've been waiting to lock up this room. But you just wouldn't wake up."
He couldn't help masking his irritation.
''I have to pick this call...and YOU will close the door of the classroom and switch off the lights.''
Lyraea's eyes widened in shock, growing so large they threatened to pop out of her head like balloons. Was he going to leave her here alone? Hell no! She just had an earth-shattering nightmare for god's sake.
''But I will be alo...''
''Miss Pasterio! Let me make myself clear for very last time. I want you out in five minutes with you being done of what I asked you.''
His words cut through the air like a sword. The tyrant was finally angry.
Lyraea's face contorted, but she nodded. Without even glancing at Lyraea, he stepped out, pushing open the door with a creak, the sound making her horrified of being alone.
His hellos echoed off the empty walls as he walked away.
Her eyelids drooped, lips twisted into a faint grimace. Her chin quivered, struggling to hold back a bubble of emotions.
Lyraea was left standing alone in the eerie silence. The memory of her last nightmare crept back, making her skin crawl with unease.
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the shadows to grow longer and darker, like skeletal fingers reaching out to snatch her but there was none.
Her mind still reeled from the guard's warning. She looked at the wall clock.
It struck seven fifty-six.
The clock hands were running a marathon to complete the second minute. She had to make it out with in four minutes.
With a deep breath, Lyraea forced herself to shake off the lingering fear, smoothing out her trembling hands on her white shirt to straighten the creases. She stuffed her hair behind her ears, not bothering to wipe away tears that streamed down her eyes.
Bending to picked up her bag from the chair, she slung it over her shoulder with a swift motion. Her hands moved with a speed and urgency that belied her still-racing heart.
The soft rustle of fabric and clink of the metal zips were the only sounds breaking the silence.
With her bag secure, Lyraea's gaze darted back to the clock on the wall. The pin had crept past the half-way mark of the third minute, and she knew she had to move.
Joggling, she crossed the room towards the buttons and switches beside the door, her fingers flying over them with a practiced ease. The lights in the room flickered and died.
The faint, diffused glow of the moon, still struggling to penetrate the cloud cover, casted only the faintest hint of light, suspending the room between light and darkness.
Her senses heightened, she strained to hear any sound. Her skin tingled with anticipation.
The stillness was suffocating....
Lyraea felt like she was holding her breath, bracing for something to happen. But the silence stretched on, unbroken.
She tried to calm herself.
"There's nothing," she whispered, "You're just spooked. Nothing's going to happen."
She took slow, deep breaths, trying to quiet her racing heart. But the feeling of being on edge lingered, refusing to be shaken, as if something was holding its breath, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
"TANGGG."
the clock struck 8, its chiming distinct and almost musical.
Lyraea took one last look around the room and turned to face the opened door.
She reached out and grasped the door handle with her left hand. Stepping out of the room, with a gentle defiance, she pushed it forward, the wood yielding to her will.
But just before the door could fully close, her movements slowed down, like a funeral procession.
The latch hovered, undecided.