The Room

When my eyes opened, I was lying in a bed.

This time there was a ceiling above me. A low, pale ceiling with a crack in the plaster. Sunlight fell through a narrow window. Beside me, an alarm clock hammered on a small table as though it had been patient long enough.

I sat up sharply.

My heart was beating too fast. My shirt clung to my back. Beneath my hands was fabric, not stone. A chair stood against the wall. A dark uniform jacket lay across it. Beside it was a bag, already packed. A notebook lay on the desk. My name was written on the cover.

InscriptionElias Vorn.

My gaze stayed on the notebook until the alarm stopped.

The name was right. There was no doubt. Not because of any memory of writing it down, but because my body responded to it. Like a scar you no longer notice every day.

The first movement from the bed was towards the window.

The same street lay outside.

Not quite. The light was different. The houses looked more ordinary, the wall less threatening because people were walking beside it. Students in uniform. Traders. A man opening a window and shaking out a rug. But the gate was there. The school was there. And somewhere behind the wall, the small chapel had to be there.

A timetable lay on the desk. It was brief.

InscriptionFirst day. Admission. East Wing classroom. Then outdoor assessment.

Even after reading the lines twice, they made no sense. A third reading changed nothing.

Voice“Go,” said the voice.

Turning around seemed pointless. Pretending once more that the voice could be found felt exhausting.

Elias“To the school?”

No answer.

The uniform fit. That was more unsettling than if it had not. The bag contained books, a paper knife, a piece of chalk, bread wrapped in cloth, and an unfamiliar key. Everything was prepared. Except me.