The knocking continued, getting louder and louder. Faster and faster.
Beads of sweat broke out on my face as I lifted my head and whipped it around the room again, blinking rapidly. The universe wasn’t going to intervene on my behalf and send a white knight to save me, or magically teleport my assailant out of the room. I had to save myself. Had to escape no matter what it took.
My gaze snapped to the window. There was a wooden trellis right outside, covered in ivy and flowers. It was weak, but it should support my bodyweight long enough for me to climb down to the ground.
Fueled by my body’s fight-or-flight response, I dashed over and pulled on the black metal latch on the side of the diamond-paned glass. It obviously hadn’t been opened in a long time, because it was stuck fast, and I almost broke a nail in the process of flipping it to the other side.
Finally, it sprang open, and I breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the window outward.
I turned and squeezed myself through it, facing the inside, and then I began the perilous climb downward, gripping harsh vines that pricked my fingers as I went. I almost screamed when a piece of the wood splintered beneath my right hand, but I managed to keep my cool and continue on my way, silently praying that it would hold under my feet long enough to get me to the ground.
My left foot broke right through part of the trellis when I was about three feet off the ground, making me slip, and I screamed as I fell backward, plunging into the garden below. Luckily, the thick shrubbery broke my fall, and my only injuries were a few scrapes and scratches on my bare skin.
Chest heaving, I turned and ran into the night, searching for one of the campus security guards. I spotted one a moment later, patrolling around one of the buildings with a flashlight.
“Help!” I screamed, waving my hands as I dashed toward him, feet flying over the ground so fast I barely registered the cold. “Help me! Please!”
“What happened?” he asked, eyes widening as he took in my trembling, bleeding body.
In a broken voice, I gave him a quick rundown of everything that had happened in my dorm tonight.
“Try to take deep breaths,” he said when I was done, putting a warm hand on my shoulder. “You’re okay now. I’m going to call this in and get some of the other guys to take a look at your dorm.”
He muttered into a walkie-talkie for a minute, and then he turned back to me. “Let’s get you somewhere warm and safe.”
He took off his jacket and wrapped it around me. Then he led me across campus, toward the staff housing.
The headmaster’s house was a tall gray brick and limestone structure, ornamented with turrets and gargoyles. It stood at the end of a wide path leading past the other houses that the teachers resided in, and with its dark hulking mass and narrow windows lit from within, it reminded me of a haunted house.
As we walked by, lights turned on in the other houses, and a couple of teachers came to their front doors, dressed in thick nightgowns. When they saw me, they rushed over, frantically asking what was going on.
The security guard gave them a brief rundown and told them he was taking me to the headmaster. The teachers insisted on joining us, and soon I was surrounded by five different people. I still didn’t feel entirely safe, though. I probably never would again.
Headmaster Sanders greeted us at the door, already out of his night clothes. The security team must’ve woken him, alerted him to the situation, and let him know we were on our way.
He led us all into a richly-decorated sitting room and gestured for me to take a seat. Then he quietly asked one of the teachers to go and find some first aid supplies for my scratches. Another teacher left to make me a cup of tea.
“Make yourself comfortable, Laney,” Sanders finally said to me, brows knitted with concern as he took in my dirty bare feet and scraped-up arms and legs. “You’re perfectly safe now, and our head of security has everything under control. He and five of his team members are looking through Blair Hall as we speak. They’ll also conduct a thorough search of the grounds.”
“Okay,” I murmured, still shivering despite the warmth of the room.
“I can assure you, we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
“Thank you.”
“Sit tight for now. I’ll be back soon.”
He left the room as the teachers returned with first aid supplies and several steaming cups of tea. I sipped at mine slowly, wincing as Ms. Rafferty—one of RFA’s math teachers—dabbed at my left leg with a cotton ball doused in brown antiseptic fluid.
“You poor thing,” she murmured. “You’ve really scratched yourself up.”
“I fell in a bush on my way out of the window,” I explained.
She nodded and kept working at my cuts and bruises, occasionally darting her eyes toward the other teachers. They all looked deeply concerned, and I wondered what they were more worried about—me, or the school’s reputation if this nightmarish story ever got out to the public.
Headmaster Sanders returned around half an hour later, lingering in the arched doorway with another security guard. They spoke to each other for a moment in hushed voices, and then they stepped over and took the seats across from me.
“Thank you for being so patient, Laney,” Sanders said, offering me a pleasant smile. “How are you feeling?”