Page 109 of The Blairville Legacies

It felt good to cry. It released the cramp in my chest and reminded me that I was strong and had made it far despite my past, that Diego could no longer play with my psyche.

He was dead. I had watched him die.I had killed him.

I discovered my reflection in the mirror – a girl with a reddened nose and disheveled hair, wearing black sweatpants and a sleep top with spaghetti straps that had slipped up a little.

As my gaze fell on my stomach, more tears came.

I pushed myself away from the door and stepped forward to the huge mirror.

My reflection seemed surreal. Probably because I wasn’t wearing a black leather jacket, which gave my confidence an extra push whenever I needed it.

My gaze once again fell on my flat stomach. And almost automatically, my hand wandered to that spot, stroking the skin.

I didn’t manage to turn to the side, because that would just show me even more that I didn’t have it anymore.

More tears. I let them all come.

I had made the right decision, even if my heart said otherwise. I had been strong, and I would continue to be strong. Mynew lifehad begun.

I let my hand slide off my stomach, further up under the top, where it met the full curves of my breasts. When I felt the cross-shaped unevenness, I quickly withdrew my hand, trying to focus my eyes on the knot I had gotten tattooed on the side under my breast four years ago for my sixteenth birthday. The date below it had only been added six months ago.

I smiled encouragingly at my reflection.

Whoever ruled this universe would give me a second chance.

Determined, I turned away from the mirror to return to the room, where I paused briefly to look at Bayla’s bed.

Whatever she had, it wasn’t anything I’d seen from her before. Anyway, she had never told me about any chronic illness. Only about the pills she had to swallow every day because her wrist itched more often, or something like that. But that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with what had happened last night.

I had just been looking for a job in this rather diverse town when suddenly another hot guy had been standing in the doorway of the room, holding an unconscious Bay in his arms. Grace’s eyes had widened, and she had whispered, “What have you done, Bardot?” The guy had responded, “Nothing,” and gently laid Bay on her bed. Her skin had glowed and the trembling of her body had been scary as hell, so for a moment I had thought she would stop breathing. She had been so incredibly sweaty.

Whatever had happened there, it was strange.Very strange. And I didn’t even want to imagine what would have happened without that Bardot, where she would be now...

I released my pitying gaze from her and slipped back under my covers.

Adrenaline was still rushing through my body.

I would go for a jog later, before my first seminar, to clear my head. The wild wolves here that the annoying radio paparazzi was always talking about could cross me. But I wasn’t scared. Everyone knew that wolves didn’t attack people unless they felt threatened. And I had no intention of messing with a wolf.

The warm midday sun pranced across my face as I wandered through one of the many porticoes of the main hall.

Admittedly... I’d gotten lost twice so far, stumbled into a strange abandoned underground vault and a Catholic prayer group session, and realized that this gigantic university had what felt like a hundred courtyards with fountains or ancient statues.

How on earth was anyone supposed to find their way around this place? And then also in the first week? I had neither Bay’s detailed map with me, nor had any signposts been put up here.Thankfully, I found the English seminar room anyway.

The English class had been over for about an hour, and since we only had the basic courses during the introductory week, and I only took English and one of my personal seminars, I had the rest of the day to myself.

Julie and Grace, on the other hand, had to attend a statistics seminar and Julie even had to attend a molecular biology seminar. That’s why I was now alone on the road and used the time to take a few photos for my projects.

Looking for the right motifs, I got stuck on flowers every now and then, but at second glance they looked wilted or somehow ugly. The Vanderwood was full of them, like a fairy tale castle. Purple orchids, white flowers that reminded me of those on the Vanderwood crest, and even white lilies in the farthest courtyards.

Ivy grew on the columns, but somehow, I didn’t like photographing plants permanently.

I wanted to capturemoments in time– movements that were otherwise rarely photographed. I wanted to capture communication, joy, and intimate gestures betweenpeople, but also sadness, tensions, and the dark sides of humanity. I wantedrealityin my pictures. And so far, this campus has offered quite a bit of it.

I stopped and picked up my camera. When I pressed the little black button on the side, the album opened, filled with the pictures of the last 3 hours. Flowers, flowers, and more flowers.

Groaning, I scrolled at the little wheel, and little by little, it showed me several pictures of the faculty. For a second, I wondered what it would be like to create a collection of pictures of Vanderwood, but quickly dismissed the idea.