Echoes into Darkness

CHAPTER 1

"I don't want to hear that love heals everyone..."

>>>

"So...you can see dead people?" Vixen inquired with a raised brow, her words dangling in the air like curious ghosts, as she maintained her line of sight on the textbook in front of her, diligently scribbling down notes that danced across the page like elusive spirits before glancing back at her friend.

The cafe hummed with the chatter of students, its atmosphere as lively as a bustling marketplace, as Lakeland College's reopening loomed closer. Nyoka could already discern familiar faces amidst the crowd, but she felt as inconspicuous as a shadow, doubtful that they would easily recognise her.

Vixen, with her usual playful glint in her eye, leaned forward. "So, spirit world insider, huh?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Nyoka continued reading her notes, her brow furrowed in concentration. With a sigh, she rolled her eyes, clenched her jaw and tapped her foot impatiently, as she attempted to explain to Vixen for the hundredth time.

"I don't see dead people," she mumbled, more to herself than Vixen as she forced her words to drip with patience like honey from a comb, before diverting half of her focus back to the Organic Chemistry Textbook before her, its pages a maze of complex formulas and molecular structures. "I see glimpses of their past...usually of dead people."

"So, you're special?" Vixen inquired, finally looking up from her textbook, her curiosity shimmering like a beacon in her eyes, as she shut it gently, somewhat reluctantly, the whispering book closed like the final chapter of a beloved tale, as her smoky eyes fell on Nyoka's deep black orbs.

"Like me or like Kennard?" Vixen questioned, glancing towards Kennard's direction for a brief moment. Nyoka caught her friend in the act, and her attention drifted towards him for a second.

He appeared immersed in a conversation with Elara, and the latter had a more cheerful expression than usual. Neither seemed to have noticed them, but Nyoka didn't care...she just hoped Vixen didn't either.

"I don't know yet, but it's been happening since I was seven," Nyoka replied calmly, her words skipping over the surface like stones on a tranquil pond, regaining Vixen's attention as though there wasn't a dark secret lurking beneath her words.

She held her pen between her fingers, its tip poised like a conductor's baton, as she began to drum a beat on her textbook before glancing briefly at her hands, the rhythm echoing like a distant heartbeat. Though she wanted to believe so, Nyoka couldn't shake the feeling that Vixen would never truly understand the depth of what she was talking about.

Vixen would never grasp the weight of being seven years old yet grappling with intrusive thoughts; she would never fathom the sensation of a dark aura enveloping you when nearing objects tied to another person's trauma.

At times, she could shut her eyes and it would be as if she was reliving those traumas, shedding those tears, and hearing the echo of those voices. Vixen would never truly comprehend the isolation of living so far from home and confronting such challenges alone, like a lone sailor navigating uncharted waters under a starless sky.

"You think Mr Darius will be generous and give us a test on resumption?" Nyoka questioned sarcastically, aiming to divert the conversation, as she stared back at her textbook, feigning comprehension of the cryptic scribbles adorning the pages, while she savoured a sip of her cappuccino, its warmth embracing her like a comforting embrace.

"Sounds like Darius," Vixen mumbled to herself, her words a whisper lost in the bustling hum of the cafe, before stealing a glance at the clock on the wall and gracefully rising to her feet. With a fluid motion, she hoisted her black backpack onto her back, her platinum-blonde locks cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight. "I gotta go. See you at school tomorrow?"