Revelation (Trinity Book 1)

Chapter 2

Rose was brushing her teeth, standing by the large open window, when a knock signalled the arrival of Ana. Her friend looked polished in her undergraduate gown and a black pencil skirt. Killer black heels glistened at her feet.

"Morning," she chirped as Rose pulled the door open.

"Hey," Rose greeted, depositing her toothbrush by the sink and grabbing her own gown before following Ana out the door.

The pair chatted together as they stepped out onto the shady courtyard.

"Ben's not here," Rose frowned, looking around. "I'll run back and get him."

"Sure," Ana replied, shielding her eyes from the early morning sun.

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Rose turned back in search of room thirty-six, and found it almost directly above hers. She knocked on the door once, twice, but there was no answer. Fitting the spare key he'd given her into the lock, she turned the handle and strode right in.

Ben was sprawled out in his bed, still asleep. She sighed and pushed his shoulder, shaking him until he stirred and opened his eyes.

"Morning," she said, giving him one last push.

"Mmm," came the muffled reply as he tried to turn away. She grabbed him and shook him some more.

"Oh, no you don't. Matriculation starts in twenty minutes and you need to get dressed."

She pulled back the covers as far as his waist and moved to the window to let in some fresh air. Ben winced as the breeze hit him and, grumbling incoherently, pulled himself onto his elbows.

"Twenty minutes?" he asked.

Rose checked her watch. "Eighteen," she confirmed.

He groaned and swung his legs out of the bed, rubbing his eyes.

Rose turned to dig out a glass from the unpacked box on the side, pouring him a glass of water. "No time for tea. This will have to do you." She was pleased to see he'd managed to pull at least some of his clothes on. She handed him the glass, which he drained in one gulp, one hand searching through his suitcase for socks.

"I see you managed to get everything unpacked," she teased, gesturing to the half-emptied boxes and suitcases strewn about the floor. He stuck his tongue out as he searched for his least creased shirt.

"Went to bed. Will do it later."

She turned to the chaos, digging out his gown.

"Ready?" she asked when she was done.

He struck a pose after fiddling with his hair at the sink. "How do I look?"

She laughed at his suitcase-creased slacks and dishevelled, white shirt. "Dashing," she replied, shoving him towards the door. "Now move! Ana's waiting."

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Christian leaned against the tree in the centre of the courtyard, wondering where she was. The light morning breeze rattled through the leaves, ruffling his hair as he looked across the gravel to where the first years loitered in groups. It was unlike Rose to be late.

He glanced up to her room once more, noticing the open window, and smiled sadly. He thought back to the young girl of six, who had to be persuaded into the bathroom, because it was tiny and airless. He remembered the nightmares, the fear. How she'd leave doors and windows wide open wherever she went in an attempt to escape the rising panic that threatened to overwhelm her.