The sensation of an endless void of nothing claws its way through me. There's no emotion of any kind, just a hollow figure overflowing with darkness. Or maybe I'm darkness itself.
That's what I feel as let my finger tips delicately glaze over the bloody object before me.
I rip my slender hand away from the shoulder pad that's lying on the large metallic desk and stumble back until I feel the cool wall behind me.
What the hell? I barely even touched it. I usually have to be in direct contact with the object to feel such strong emotions.
I clench my fingers into a fist and gently push myself away from the wall. Eyeing the torn school logo on the object, I cautiously move towards my black leather gloves sitting beside it. Leisurely pulling them over my naturally tanned hands, I glance around the dimly lit room. My honey brown eyes roam to the metal tables lined up in the middle of the vast space as the icy breeze coming in from the vent above brushes over the goosebumps layering my exposed skin.
Even in a morgue that has hardly been used, it's still as morbid as any other. An area only meant for death, I guess.
Swiftly, I pull the plastic bag over the shoulder pad, being careful not to touch it again. Well not on purpose this time anyway. But even though the glossy gloves and plastic case, I can still sense the darkness radiating from it.
Ever since I was six, I've had this strange ability to feel the emotions of the last person to touch an object with just a stroke of my hand. Yet, throughout all those years, I've never felt that specific feeling before. It was like I felt the emotion of darkness itself? If it even is an emotion.
As my mind ponders over the question, I pick the bag up and chuck it into the cardboard box beneath the desk.
Probably should have done that a lot more gently, especially since I'm not meant to be down here. If dad found me in this room, I'm certain he would ground me the rest of the year and maybe longer and I'm not really in the mood to find out anytime soon.
In one swift motion, I pivot around on the back heel of my sneaker and stride towards the exit door, eager to leave the chemical invested aroma. My hand moves towards the door handle but the sound of someone opening the creaky white door on the other side stops me from moving any further.
The muscles throughout my body tense as panic rips its way up my constricting throat. The door swings open and my widened eyes fall upon a short teenage girl with wavy light purple hair. A heavy sigh falls from my mouth as relief washes throughout my taunt body.
"Shit Hannah, you scared the living daylights out of me!" I whisper shout.
She arches a perfectly plucked brow.
"Well, that would make sense, we are standing in a morgue after all."
I try to give her a deadpanned stare, but my lip ends up quirking up at her usual sarcasm. Moving past her, I turn my attention to both sides of me as I glance along the hallway, making sure no ones there. The fading lights down both hallways flicker slightly as my black sneakers squeak against the white lino floor.
"So, here's what I found in your dad's office," Hannah says.
I turn around and notice the case file rolled up in Hannah's hand as she extends it out to me. Her deep grey eyes never drop down to it as she focuses solely on my face.
"You should probably hint to your dad that he should hide his police files a little better. It literally took me a minute to find this," Hannah jokes as she tensely plops her free hand her hip.
A chuckle falls from my lips as I slip the file out of her tight grip and open the pale-yellow paper case. My eyes skim over the first few sentences.
YOU ARE READING
Darkling Academy | ONC 2020Fantasy
Darkling Academy only has two rules. Number one? Don't die on the first day. Number two? Try not to die over the next three hundred and sixty five days. Alexis Huntington, a seventeen year old girl, already had enough to deal with as a high school s...