People spoke of it as though it were fictional, and I remember the tales I’d heard on Halloween, the speakers passionate and vivid enough that it felt like something out of a pop-up book. Goosebumps spread across my skin as I listened to story after story about teens that drove up here in the middle of the night, only to step one foot on the cobblestone path and never be seen again.
Our parents used our apprehension to their benefit, threatening us with what lay behind those gates to coerce us into behaving.
Decades later, I stood at the base of those concrete steps and stared into the stone faces of the gargoyles that bordered them, wondering what secrets they’d reveal if they could talk… and which ones they’d protect.
The stack of files I held felt heavier the longer I stared at them, and I remember the way the door creaked behind me and the hair that rose on my arms as I navigated the halls on my first day. They were every bit as eerie as I thought they’d be, and I found it strange that in such a cavernous space… I couldn’t hear any echoes.
The office they’d given me was tucked between a bend in the walls, small but efficient. I appreciated the position amongst the maze of bricks, and though the absence of others often left people feeling leary, I thought the solitude would make my patients feel safer somehow.
Pain was a sensation that demanded to be felt, and the brick walls I stood between were oozing with it. It was still a mystery to me whether these students carried that pain to campus in their backpacks or if it was something that seeped into their bloodstream the minute they stepped through the doors.
It reminded me of the way I used to carry men through the desert, a rifle strapped to my chest. I went where they told me to because I’d wanted to survive.
That’s what these kids were doing.
Surviving.
Their cruelty were their weapons, their strength a coping mechanism. Kids who weren't fed love on a silver spoon often learned to lick it off knives, and the thought that Sebastian had lived here all his life was one I almost couldn’t handle.
He was too soft for a place with hardened edges, and as I stood outside my office door, I looked carefully into the shadows that surrounded me. Somewhere in the dusk was the beast that followed him around, and I intended to find it.
“Mr. Hayes.”
Shit.
I plastered a smile on my face. “Headmaster. What can I do for you?”
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The rings he wore made contact with the brick, creating an eerie melody as he strolled along the curve of the wall. His pace was leisurely, gait pompous and smile rehearsed. I imagined it was difficult for him to look any other way. There was a reason he’d been headmaster for nearly twenty years, and I suspected it had nothing to do with his passion for education.
“I’ve come for an update on Sebastian’s progress.”
“I’m sorry?”
His toes were mere inches from mine when he came to a stop, and I watched him adjust the lapels of his jacket. “My son? I’d like an update. Is he speaking yet? Has he alluded to—”
“Sir, I can’t discuss the details of my sessions with you. Sebastian is nineteen years old, nearly twenty.”
“He’s my son.”
“He’s an adult and legally protected by confidentiality laws.”
His jaw hardened. “Mr. Hayes, perhaps you don’t understand the purpose of why you were hired.”
“What a bastard.”
“I’m sorry, Headmaster, but are you suggesting that my job is to spy on your son for the sake of your curiosity rather than guide him through his grief?”
“I don’t believe that’s what I was implying, Mr. Hayes. You ought to be careful when interpreting my concern.”
I arched an eyebrow. “What concern might that be?”
Arthur leaned toward me, glancing over his shoulder as though ensuring we were alone. The look he gave me suggested we were besties about to exchange secrets.