Up in the Stars

A New Normal

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The next morning, she walked to class humming one of the songs that Dr. Drewitt had played the night before.

The prior evening felt like it had been a dream.

If it weren't for the golden dress hung in her wardrobe, Enid would have thought she had imagined it all.

She had taken the morning to reset, tidying her dorm room and getting her schoolwork organized.

An assessment of her planner reminded her that she was meant to help Dr. Easton with his research today.

With how busy her days had been, she hadn't thought much about the night of the bonfire.

Yet, it still crept into her mind during the nights.

She'd be snuggled up in her matching pajamas and half asleep when suddenly she'd feel the pressure of fingers around her ribs and feel smoke fill her lungs.

Hands grasping, squeezing.

A body pressing into hers, unforgiving.

Sitting up, chest seizing, she'd find she was safely in her dorm room, no boys or fires in sight.

She'd choke and choke on smoke that wasn't there.

Heaving for air, she'd slowly recover.

Sleep was scarce, but she filled the nighttime hours by getting ahead on homework and practicing her cello.

Anything to stay occupied.

Enid applied some makeup for the first time in years, attempting to cover up her exhaustion.

Still, a smile blossomed on her face as amber leaves crunched under her feet.

She loved Autumn.

She always had since she was a young child.

Her fondest memories were framed by colorful trees and thick sweaters.

The season defined by death and decay, yet it was the time in which she felt most alive.

Lost in her thoughts, she found that she had made it to the lecture hall.

She found her seat on the second row and pulled out her notes.

Excitement fluttering inside her as Dr. Easton walked in and set his briefcase on the desk at the front of the room.

His sapphire eyes found her immediately, scanning along her as though to ensure that nothing was out of place.

Clearing his throat in the already silent auditorium, the students seemed to hold their breath as they waited for him to speak.

"Lust. Sexual desire. Freud believed it to be a central pillar of our beings. An octane that we have no choice but to give into. A driving force. An instinct so deeply rooted within us that for many years we viewed it as an independent, individual part of our psychosis." His voice deep and lilting.

Enid shifted in her seat, something warm and indiscernible pooling in her lower stomach.

A sensation she had never experienced.