I tightened my grip on the door handle, gritting my teeth as I shoved the dizziness away as firmly as I could. Something was clearly happening in reality, and I knew that, but it didn’t matter to me as much. I was about to enter my room at the Academy for the first time, and I didn’t want to miss it. Plus, I could feel panic coming from reality, but not fear. That was fine. I could deal with it when I got back.

The sensation retreated, hovering at the edges of my mind as I opened the door. It still demanded my attention, but I could ignore it and focus on the large room that awaited me. Hope leapt in my heart, and I looked back at Rodgers, a question on the tip of my tongue, but he held a hand up, cutting me off before I could even say anything.

“I’m going to head to the canteen,” he said firmly. “Sleep well, and remember. Eight o’clock.”

I nodded, wanting to ask him who my roommates were, but forced myself not to.

“Eight o’clock,” I repeated. “Night.”

Rodgers smiled at me and turned, starting to walk away down the corridor as I looked back at the beds before me.

Three beds. They had to be for Katie, Abbie and me, didn’t they? That was what I wanted to ask Rodgers. It was too much of a coincidence otherwise, and surely, they wouldn’t do that to me. He would have said, wouldn’t he? Rodgers must have known what I was thinking; it was so obvious. He was a nice person. He would have tried to let me down gently rather than making me think that I’d be sharing a room with Abbie and Katie again and then being disappointed when someone else showed up.

My eyes roamed the room, and I felt a smile grow on my face. I hadn’t even explored it properly, but I already knew that I liked it. It was big, a little bigger than the room I’d had in the induction wing, but pretty similar. The layout was almost the same. The three beds were along one wall with bedside tables in between and wardrobes opposite. Except there were now separate chests of drawers, too. We didn’t have those in the induction.

I reached out, letting my hand trail along the slightly marked side of the nearest wardrobe. It was more lived in and used than the furniture in the induction wing. There were dents and chips in the dark wood that had been varnished over, whereas everything in the induction wing had been spotless. I think I preferred the furniture in my actual room, though. It had more life and made me think about who had stayed in the room before me.

A spy, obviously. A field operative or maybe someone who worked behind the scenes. What were they doing now? Did they graduate from the Academy and keep working with them as a field operative, or did they run the moment they graduated and never look back? Maybe they were at university now, pretending to be a normal person, as if they hadn’t spent the last however long learning how to kill people, analyse body language and defuse bombs.

Did that ever go away? I couldn’t help but wonder. After I’d been at the Academy for a while and had gotten used to watching people and spotting when they were uncomfortable or lying or trying to hide something from me, would I ever forget it? Or would I spend the rest of my life watching people and being aware of those things?

I couldn’t work out if I wanted that or not. It would be helpful in a way. I struggled in social situations, and maybe if I understood people and what they were thinking better, I’d do better, but at the same time, it sounded horrible. People lied all the time, especially in relationships. I’d seen it with my parents. My mom barely told my dad the truth about anything. I think I’d prefer to be naive to it, if I were in his situation. I wouldn’t want to know just how much of our relationship was a facade.

Blinking and trying to push that thought from my mind, I stepped further into the room, looking around. A gasp slipped out of my mouth, and I came to a stop, staring at the bay window in front of me as my heart fluttered in my throat.

I wasn’t sure why I loved bay windows, but I always did. I think there was one in a book I read once; I’m not sure, but the idea of being able to curl up in one with my back against the glass whilst reading a book or studying has always sounded so great to me. I always wanted to do it, but I’d never had the chance to. It just seems like such a soothing place to sit. The cushioned seat was perfectly firm, too. It was a little soft, but I knew it would be comfortable.

With a smile, I lifted my eyes to the window, staring out over the grounds. It was the first time I’d seen the grounds behind the school, and my breath caught in my throat. There was a forest, cloaked in darkness, just behind the school. There was a little space between the school and the forest, but not much. I loved that we were so close to the trees, just like at my grandparents’ house.

I have always loved forests, even though they also scare me a bit. Especially at night. I couldn’t help but be reminded of that as I looked out over the dark trees. I don’t think I’ve ever been in one in the dark, not properly, but the idea of it terrifies me. Not being able to see what or who’s around me makes me feel on edge. If I can’t see them, I can’t be prepared for whatever is to come, and that would be worse in a forest.

They’re never quiet or still; that was the problem. During the day, it generally wasn’t too bad. I could look around and see that there was no one there, but it would be different at night. Even just the thought of hearing the soft flutter of wings or the whistle of wind through the trees sent a shiver down my spine.

Laughter floated down the corridor behind me, and I jumped, spinning around. I darted towards the door, trying to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible before silently closing it. I didn’t move away from the door. I couldn’t. I felt frozen to the spot, unable to even breathe, as I heard the footsteps come closer before passing by.

Relief washed through me, making my knees feel weak. It was stupid, and I knew it, but I didn’t feel ready to see anyone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I was too on edge, and the thought of talking to someone who was smarter and more experienced than me made my stomach curdle.

I couldn’t help but imagine their barely concealed smirk as they stared down at me, an eyebrow raised. I was the first person out of the induction wing for my cohort, and they’d expect more from me. They’d assume that I was smart or strong or capable, but I was none of those things, and they’d see it in an instant. I knew that.

Another sound came from further down the corridor, the bang of someone slamming their door, and I jumped, reaching towards the lock on my door. Tears burned behind my eyes, and I held my breath, hoping they’d go away. I wasn’t even sure why I was so close to tears, but I couldn’t help it.

I was being a baby. That’s what the problem was. I was pathetic. The Academy just felt so big and scary, and I didn’t know what to do. It felt like I’d been dropped into the deep end of a pool, and I couldn’t get to the edge. I was out of my depth, but there was nothing that could be done.

The thought of the small, enclosed and safe induction wing fluttered in my mind, reminding me how comfortable I had been there, but I couldn’t go back, no matter how much I wanted to. How would I? I had to stay in my room until the morning; Rodgers had asked me to, and I couldn’t disobey him.

At first, I did actually want to. So briefly, I’d felt the urge to explore the Academy, but I was kind of glad I couldn’t. It would make me feel worse, I was certain of it. It would just make me too aware of how big it was, and I didn’t want that. Instead, I could just stay in my room and do nothing until morning. That would be okay.

I sucked in a deep breath, looking around the room. It would be okay, I told myself, trying to believe it. I had no one to talk to and nothing to do. I was completely alone for the first time since I got to the Academy however long ago it had been. It felt like a lifetime. A lifetime since I’d been by myself.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I’d gotten used to it fast, I realised as I perched on the end of one of the beds, staring around the room blankly and barely taking anything in. The constant company and noise had become so normal to me. Even when I was in the bathroom, I wasn’t really alone. Abbie and Katie were just beyond the door, talking or just reading.

Even when they were reading, it wasn’t truly quiet. Not like it was in my new room. There was the soft flutter of pages, the occasional conversation or rustle of bedding. My room had none of that. I could hear some noise in the rooms around me, but that was it. It wasn’t enough to distract me from my racing heart and the trembling in my hands.

I had to do something. Jumping up, I looked around my room, searching for anything else to focus on. The thought of leaving the world and returning in the morning when Rodgers came for me didn’t even occur to me. I didn’t even realise it was an option. Instead, my eyes fell on my bags. I’d just left the suitcases by the door and dropped my duffle bag on the bed nearest the window. I needed to unpack.

It was my room now, and I was probably going to be staying there permanently. It didn’t make sense to be living out of my bags. It was messy, I told myself as I stood and walked towards my bags. I needed to unpack, and then I’d feel more settled. It would help.

I wasn’t sure if I completely believed it, but it motivated me enough to be able to drag the suitcases towards the bed nearest the window. It was the same bed that I’d had in the dorm, and I didn’t want to go for a different one. It sounded stupid, but I knew that if I went for the bed on the right of the room again, it would make me feel better. I might be able to convince myself, just for a moment, that I was back in the dorm with the others.

Slipping the suitcases under the bed, I started to unpack the bag Rodgers had given me. It was just my uniform and toiletries and would be nowhere near enough to fill the wardrobe or chest of drawers, but I couldn’t bring myself to start on the suitcases I’d so hurriedly packed ages ago. They were a mess, and I knew that. It would take too much mental energy to deal with.

Dizziness came for me again as I grabbed a hanger out of the wardrobe, and I let it take me without hesitation. The exhaustion that had settled over me began to evaporate as I returned to reality, and I felt my body moving. I let it keep doing whatever it was doing as my awareness returned, and vertigo gripped me for just a moment.

The glass mug touched my lip, and I took a sip of the drink inside instinctively. Bitterness invaded my mouth, followed by an almost overwhelming sweetness that made me want to wince. I fought to keep my expression as neutral as possible as I glanced down at the cup in my hand.

I was drinking a coffee. I didn’t expect that, and I looked around quickly, trying to work out what I had missed, but it just made me more confused. The cafe around us looked completely normal. It was just a small coffee shop, one that looked vaguely familiar. I couldn’t recall exactly when I’d been to it before, but I was pretty sure I had. Either that, or it just looked so generic that I was mixing it up with another.

But nothing seemed wrong, and that’s what was confusing me. I’d been too dizzy. It had reached out to me many times when I’d been at the Academy. Why? Nothing seemed wrong. Why would it have wanted me to return so much if there was no reason?

My eyes found my mother, who was looking at me, a smirk playing on her lips. Had she asked me a question? Was that the issue? Maybe she’d been peppering me with questions ever since we sat down, and I’d slipped up and said the wrong thing. I couldn’t remember her saying anything, though.

The urge to speak built within me as I took another sip and saw my mom’s smirk grow.

“How’s your espresso?” I asked.

It was the only thing I could think to say to her.

“Fine,” she said, lifting it to her lips again. “Acceptable, I guess. They didn’t burn the beans here like every other place we’ve been to so far, so at least there’s that.”

“That’s… good?” I said.

I didn’t know enough about coffee to say anything else. I had no clue what it meant to burn the beans or why that was a bad thing. I assumed it was a bad thing, at least. It normally was when something was burnt.

“How’s your latte?” my mom asked after a long pause, judgment dripping from her words.

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I took another sip. It was easier not to wince that time. I knew it was coming, so I was ready.

“It’s delicious,” I lied.

It wasn’t bad, exactly. It was just coffee, and I still didn’t really enjoy it. I liked how it made me feel, though. It didn’t do much, but it made my mind feel a bit clearer and less busy.

A sneer came over my mom’s face.

“Does it taste like stick toffee pudding?” she asked.

I stared at her blankly, quickly taking another sip to cover up how confused I was by her question. Why would it taste like that? Was that the flavour I’d gone for? I didn’t remember ordering it, but it could have been. It didn’t taste like sticky toffee pudding, though. Maybe I was just too inexperienced with coffee to pick the flavours out. There was a sweetness there and a hint of something else, but I had no clue what.

My eyes found the specials board behind the counter, and relief washed through me. I narrowed my eyes, reading the notes quickly whilst trying to make it look like I was just thinking about Mom’s question.

“Mmmm, not really,” I said, cocking my head and unable to stop myself from playing along. “It mostly just tastes like caramel, but I think I am picking up a hint of the cinnamon. There’s a bit of fruitiness, too?”

I couldn’t taste any of that, but the look of annoyance on my mom’s face made me glad I’d said it. It was genuinely hard not to laugh.

“That sounds disgusting,” she said. “And full of sugar. Your teeth are going to rot straight out of your head before you even hit thirty. And after we wasted so much money on braces for you.”

Guilt fluttered weakly in my stomach, but I ignored it and focused on the relief that I felt instead as I realised that was probably part of the reason I’d felt the dizziness before. Mom always made comments like that about how much sugar I was eating. She’d probably said something before when I’d ordered it, and I’d panicked and tried to pull myself back out of the other world. That made sense.

I’d made the right decision when I was on autopilot, or whatever it was that happened when I was in my other worlds. It was petty to think that, but the enjoyment I’d felt at my mom’s annoyance did make it worth it. I had to be more careful, though. It was the wrong day to be purposefully annoying my mom. She was already on edge, and I needed to stop adding to it. Looking down at the coffee in front of me, I slipped out of the world.

The words on the paper before me were written in English, but I stared at them blankly, unable to process what I was reading. Confusion rushed through me, and I looked around, trying to work out what I’d missed. The mostly empty duffle bag lay on my bed again. I must have gotten distracted by something halfway through unpacking. That made sense. It happened a lot.

I looked back down at the paper in my hand, trying to work out what I was doing. Setting the alarm, I realised slowly. Rodgers had told me to, and I must have decided to do it before I forgot and fell asleep without turning it on. Anxiety roiled in my stomach as I crouched down, moving closer to the digital clock and staring at it. I’d never used a physical alarm clock before. I’d always just used my phone, and the clock seemed more confusing. There were too many buttons, but I had to use it. The idea of falling asleep without setting it and not being ready in time scared me. I needed to make a good impression.

The clock beeped loudly as I pushed the buttons, setting the alarm for six thirty. It was too early, but I knew there was no way I’d be able to sleep in any later than that. I’d be too worried about not having enough time to get changed and ready.

Plus, I had to shower in the morning. I usually preferred to shower at night, but I wanted nothing more than to sink into my bed and sleep immediately. I’d have enough time in the morning, anyway. And it would give me something to do other than pace back and forth, just waiting for Rodgers to knock.

I started to straighten up before pausing. There was a buzzing coming from somewhere. A soft electrical hum. Straining my ears, I tried to work out where it was coming from, but it just sounded like it was coming from the bedside table. Anxiety bubbled in my stomach, and I shuffled backwards, trying to work out why there would be anything electric in there. There wouldn’t be anything bad, though, I was pretty sure.

Still, I was nervous as I leaned forward and opened the door. My mouth fell open, and I crouched down again to get a better look at what was inside. Rodgers had said there would be snacks in my room, but I didn’t expect there to be a whole mini fridge. It was fully stocked, too. There were bottles of water and a couple of cans of fizzy drinks along with some fruit, cheese strings and crisps. And they were all my favourite flavours.

A grin came over my face as I grabbed a bag of crisps before an idea came to me, and I stood up, walking across the room. Rodgers had said I’d have the room to myself for at least a week, but…

The fridges in the other two bedside tables were empty. I knew they were probably going to be, but I was still a little disappointed. Mine contained more than enough snacks for myself, but that didn’t stop me from wanting more. And, if the other fridges had been full, it would have helped. I knew what Katie and Abbie liked. If the fridges were stocked with their favourite things, I would have known they’d be moving in with me.

Turning and looking around my room, I was hit with a wave of loneliness. I’d felt it pulling at me a few times, but it still surprised me how strong it was. All excitement from the discovery of the fridges faded away, and I was lost.

Sadness invaded my heart as I kicked my shoes off and padded across my room without bothering to get changed into pyjamas or turn the lights off. I didn’t want to do anything else except curl up in my bed and wait for morning.