The Enki

Chapter 1

The dark features of the brick work dominate the look of the school, as if the bricks are burnt by fire. It gave me an unsettled view of the place I was meant to be relocating to. I can't imagine it'll be all famous quotes on the walls and enthused, interactive teachers. This school is probably where the walls are dark, stained, there are no pictures, the teachers teach strict curriculum, and there is a zero chance of you ever becoming best friends with any of them.

The rain is running down the window of my fathers beat up truck as I examine my new home. Lightning strikes the sky, illuminating the building giving it an eerie quality.
My father leans over and says:

"It isn't as bad as it looks Rosie."

I don't respond. Just another school that i'll attend, until my father decides it's time to move again.

This was the third school I had moved to in two years. The journey from one city to the next was always an awkward experience. Too often had I been woken up with the words "we have to leave".

I never questioned why because I was so used to it. Most kids would cry and beg not to leave, but I guess I was numb to the constant change. I have never had a family home nor a mother present throughout my life. It never occurred to me that i should feel upset, you can't feel the loss of something you've never had.

On the rare occasion I would ask why we had to leave, my father would always reply that when I was old enough he would tell me. My enquiries sent him into such a moody depressive state that it was easier to obey his order.

This move was different somehow.

My father had hardly spoken to me since we had left. I did not know where I was going until we pulled up outside the school. We hadn't made arrangements to move into a hotel, and my father hadn't contacted my last school to tell them I was leaving. I didn't even have time to say goodbye to my classmates.

As we walk into the school the smell of years old musk assaults my senses. Do they not have any janitors in here? The halls are eerily empty, I guess all the students are in class. I look at my dad and his eyes avoid mine. Something is definitely wrong with him, the school, and this situation. Something unspoken is hanging in the air between my dad and I. 

As we walk further into the hall my senses spring to high alert, and I am drawn to the grand stairs in the centre. At the top of the stairs, leaning casually on the bannister, is a well dressed man in his early twenties. He is dressed as if he is in his thirties, but his facial features make him appear younger. I make a judgement on him being older, but really he could be either way.

I don't know why, but it makes me uncomfortable. Is he a wannabe mature man dressed in a smart suit, or does he just have incredibly good genes. Increasing my discomfort, the man stares at me directly and without shame. He stands judging me without any expression on his face. I feel anger rise in my stomach and I notice that he begins to smile, maybe he realises what an asshole he is being. Can't see myself enjoying here very much if this is my first expression.

The man, who i assume is in charge, walks down the stairs with an air of complete confidence in himself and makes his way over until he is directly in front of us. He looks at me with a lingering lazy gaze and then regards my dad.

"Mr Renoit thank you for coming. Your drive here was pleasant i assume?"

I would hardly say it was pleasant. Being stuck in the truck for countless hours, not knowing where we were going or why, in silence, isn't exactly my idea of pleasant.

My body feels deathly cold and I can't shake the feeling that something isn't quite right.

I feel as though i'm stuck somehow, mentally and physically, but only for the briefest moment. My brain becomes fuzzy and I feel light headed.

The man smiles at me and directs us up the staircase. I look at my father waiting for him to answer the question he was asked, not two seconds before my dizzy turn, but he starts to walk on. I make a face but continue to follow Mr Odd up the staircase, along a corridor and into a large rustic office.

It is beautiful, bookcases against three quarters of the walls, a large antique desk in the centre of the room. The large bay window lets the sun in to  highlight its beauty. The man gestures for my dad and I to sit down and we obey, as he sits smoothly into his green, antique, leather chair. I look at my Dad and I notice he is nervously playing with his family signet ring, pulling it off then on again.

As the silence continues I become more and more anxious as to what i'm doing here, I don't even know who this man is, and yet he seems to have my Dad in a right state. As if reading my mind the man leans forward and put his hand out to me.

"Forgive me, I am Christophe DeVain. It is a pleasure to have you here Miss Renoit or would you prefer Rose?"

He knows my name? Well of course he would I'm enrolling in his school. Its a pleasure? Well thats new. Unwillingly I shake his hand, and only do it because it would be rude not to. Christophe turns to look at my dad and his eyes bore into his downturned head. Without blinking Christophe says:

"Rose would you mind if your dad and I have a little chat, privately? There are benches outside you can sit there."

I look at my dad for any sign of his support either way, but his head remains down. What is wrong with him? I know that we are in a school, and what I assume is the headmaster's office, but does he really need to play the guilty student?

I push my chair out abruptly and hastily exit the room. I know that my dad has always let me down, moving me here to there without warning, making me lose friends but this act that he is putting on really takes the biscuit.

Its got to be an act surely? What is so different about this school? Sure it seems really eerie and quiet, but it is the start of term. Maybe this school starts later than others.

No, this is definitely not normal for a school. Instead of sitting on the bench as I was told I begin to wander in search of life. As I walk along the corridor and peep into the first room with a window on the door, my heart and stomach sink; it's empty. Not just empty of people, empty of furniture, of anything that would resemble a school. I run my finger over the window and a clump of dust falls to my feet. This place isn't full, it's empty, and by the looks of it for a very long time.

My brain runs through possibilities and comes up trumps apart from the crazy horror related thoughts.

I push the thought to the back of my head. If one thing I've learned about myself over the years of being moved about is: I am one tough young woman and if my subconscious is telling me something is wrong, then no well suited, handsome, fake head master is going to stop me from finding out the truth.

Thank you for reading :) please vote and comment if you enjoy.