Terrorscape (3 page)

“Oh.” Val stared at the crowded bus. Well, that
explained a lot. “Thanks.”
The Otoño complex consisted of brown building
trimmed in orange, russet, and gold. It could have
been hideous, but the vibrant groves of deciduous
trees made it work. Otoño meant autumn in Spanish
and the color scheme reflected that perfectly.
Arrow signs erected in the well-watered lawn
read
THIS WAY FOR RESIDENT CHECK-IN
. She
followed the signs, looking around at the silent trees,
and felt as if she were in the middle of the wood.
The pointing arrows led her to a large, chocolatecolored building with a built-in porch swing hanging
from a gracefully bowed evergreen. Balloons were
tied to the front door handle in neon colors that
clashed with her present mood. Written in large
bubble letters were the words
RESIDENT CHECK-IN
HERE
.
She opened the door and managed to squeeze
herself and her suitcase inside with a bit of effort. The
room was warm and smelled like baking. Someone
had set up a little mini buffet with candy and cookies
and bottles of water and soda dotted with beads of
condensation. Val helped herself to one of the each of
the latter, ignoring the food. Her bumpy stomach
seemed to think it was still on the train.
She shoved the soda into her purse and took a
long swig from the soda. A girl in a green- and whitestriped polo was taking down names at the back. Val
got in line behind an attractive-looking boy with
flaming red hair the exact same shade hers used to be.

No. Don't think about that. Forget.

 

“Next!” piped the girl, with assembly-line cheer.
She glanced up at Val. “Name?”

 

“Um. Val—Valerie.” The girl made a forwarding
motion and she added, “Valerie Klein.”

 

“Klein…like…Calvin Klein?”

 

That was where she had gotten the idea from. She
hoped it wasn't that obvious. “…yes.”

The
girl
rifled
through
a
Rolodex
on
the
makeshift desk. She handed Val an envelope marked
with her name and room number. “Any relation?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well. Too bad. Room key and laundry card
are inside the envelope. The laundry card is prepaid
with one free wash and dry, courtesy of your Resident
Advisers. Don't lose either of them.”

Val shoved the envelope into the pocket of her
dress. “Where's room three-fourteen?”

“Ordinarily you would take the elevators just
over there—” she pointed to twin metal doors
wearing identical out-of-order placards “—but as you
can see, they're not working, so you'll have to make
due with the stairs. Sorry about that.”

The people in line behind Val were starting to
grumble.
She
swallowed
nervously.
Heat
was
crawling up her neck. “The staircase is—um, where?”

Behind her someone said, “Oh,
come
on.”
“Hey, give her a break,” another voice said.

Don't talk about me like I'm not here.
Dull rage bled
into helpless despair. That was one of the unavoidable
side-effects of blending into the woodwork.

“Go down that hallway. The staircase will be on
your immediate right.”

 

Hallway. Immediate right. Staircase.

 

“Got it?” Her smile was too bright; she made Val
feel slow.

 

“I…I think so.”

She didn't. Not really. But she was too conscious
of the other freshmen eying her with their illconcealed impatience and contempt to ask for further
clarification.

Left on her own, Val drifted.

Parents and freshmen clotted the halls. All of
them were loaded down with boxes and furniture and
various miscellany of luggage. A few stragglers milled
about like lost ants separated from the colony.

But at least they have a colony to return to.
Nobody noticed that she was the only one alone.

The door to three-fourteen, when she got there,
was already ajar. Val froze, uncertain whether to
search or bolt. She could hear sounds coming from
within. Domestic rustlings. Absent-minded humming.
The kind one did when alone.

Val held her breath and peered around the corner.

A curvy black girl was bustling around, whistling
to herself as she tacked up a poster with a yellow
tabby clinging to a rope by its stripey forepaws. The
caption said, “Hanging Loose!”

Perhaps the girl had seen Val's shadow, or
perhaps the feeling of being watched simply became
too much to ignore, because the girl froze abruptly.
Whatever the reason, the girl glanced over her
shoulder, then did a double-take. “Oh my gosh—”

Watching the girl's fingers convulse at her breast,
Val felt another surge of self-loathing. Her first day
and she had given somebody a heart attack. “Uh, hi?”

“Jesus.” The girl hadn't lowered her hand from
her chest, leading Val to suspect she suffered from
drama rather than edema. “You scared the
heck
out of
me. Is that how you always say hello? Sneaking up on
people?”

Her voice was pleasant, lower than one might
have
expected
and
mellifluous.
Though
slightly
shaky, it was not without a twinge of humor.

“No. I'm sorry.” Val looked down both sides of
the hall, then back into the warm glow of the room.
She hesitated. The dorm, decorated in its various
shades of pink, already looked like somebody's home.
“This is three-fourteen, right?”

“Yes,” the girl said, drawing the word out into
three full syllables. “It is. Oh. Oh, oh,
oh
, you must be
my roommate. Vanessa. No, Verity. Um. Veronica?”
“Valerie.”

“That's it. I knew it began with a V.” The girl
shoved the pin she was holding into the wall, not
noticing that the poster now hung crookedly. “I'm
Marianne Fox—Mary, for short.”

“Val.”

“Cute. Here—lemme get you a hand.” She was
wheeling Val's suitcase over to one corner of the room
before Val even thought to respond. “Where's the rest
of your stuff?”

“…the rest?”

 

“Yeah. I'll help you bring it up. Elevators are
broken, you know.”

 

“This is it.”

 

“You're kidding. You only brought one suitcase?
What, are you a townie?”

 

Val squirmed. “I thought I'd just go out and buy
food and books and things, so…”

“Oh, Lord. That's not going to be anywhere
near
enough. This is a dorm, girl, not a convent. And have
you tasted the food in the Dining Commons? You're
going to want to stock up. Trust me, unless you want
pizza all day, every day, for the rest of the year.”

“Oh.”
“Hey, it's okay.” Mary flounced onto her bed.
“Look, my sisters are coming by later this afternoon.
We're going out to dinner and then shopping. It's
going to be
so
fun. Girls' night out. You know?”

“That sounds fun.” Val unzipped her backpack
and began hanging up shirts.

“You should come with us.”
“I don't know…”
“You look like you could use some fun.”

Fun. The thought was alien, bewildering. She
knew there had been some happy moments in her life
since that horrible night, but she couldn't recall a
single event offhand.

“If it's a family thing, I don't want to impose.”

“No worries. My sisters are real cool girls. They
won't mind one more head. In fact, they'll be glad you
have one.”

“Have one?”

“A head. I tried to call you this summer. I wanted
to introduce myself since we were going to be
roomies,
but
your
number
wasn't
listed.
I
was
beginning to think I'd shacked up with Little Miss
Serial Killer or a ghost or something. No offense, but
you can't be too careful these days.”

How true that is
.

 

“Trust me, you'll be thanking me for this once you
taste what what they call food up in the DC.”
Only half-listening, Val said, “DC?”

“Dining Commons. DC.” Shaking her head but
still smiling, Mary glanced back at the poster she had
just finished hanging up. “Aw, heck, it's hanging
crooked.” She scrambled onto her bed to fix it, her
back now facing towards Val.

The conversation, it seemed, was over.

I wish I could think of something to say
. She would
be living with this girl for the next year and was
failing to keep the ball rolling on day
one
.

Social skills, like muscles, could atrophy.

The weeks ahead yawned before her. Awkward
silences. Uncomfortable maneuvering. “This is my
roommate. She's…
weird
.” Val unzipped her suitcase
too roughly. This was supposed to be a fresh start and
she was already reverting to old patterns.

A quilt printed with yellow roses went on her
bed. The yellow sheets and pillowcases were from
another set and didn't quite match, though they
looked decent enough. The plush toy cat she received
for volunteering at the animal shelter went on her
pillow. She looked at it sadly, and wished she had a
real pet. Something that would be content to cuddle
with her and listen to her without judgement.

“That's cute,” Mary observed, and Val realized
belatedly that her toy resembled the cat on Mary's
poster. Yellow tabbies. Marmalade cats.

I got it from the animal shelter I used to work at.
The words stuck in her throat like burrs.

“Where?” would be the next line of questioning
and then she would be forced to lie. She would have
to remember the lie, as well, since the only thing
worse than lying was being caught at it.

And you're a terrible liar.
But that was spoken in
his
voice, not hers.

Val
paused
in
front
of
the
closet.
Mary's
unanswered comment hung between them like a
grudge, and the room seemed to rock and sway.

“Are you okay?”

Val had never told anyone she could still hear his
voice in her head. Because she knew that if she did, it
wouldn't just be pills and a pat on the head. No,
they'd lock her up with the real crazies.

(Poor traumatized Val.)

 

“I…just got up a little too fast. Low blood
pressure.”

She hadn't brought much, like she could simplify
the more abstract problems in her life by taking
command of the physical ones. Maybe the purity of a
monastic lifestyle would chase the demons from her
head. Or maybe—maybe it would make things worse.

(In a way, it's very becoming. Very Gothic. Suits you,
really.)

Jeans. Val made herself look at them.
See
them.
She folded them up lengthwise to drape over the
hangers.
T-shirts. Button-downs. Sweaters. Khakis.
Boots that wouldn't be damaged by snow. High tops.

She could feel Mary's eyes on her, though she
never seemed to be looking in her direction whenever
Val turned around to check.

I have problems.

Val worked her way to the bureau and began
filling the drawers. Underwear. Exercise clothes.
Flannel. Parka. Scarf. Socks.

Really big problems.
Mary, she knew, was still watching her guardedly.

As if I'm a wild animal, frightened and cornered, and
she doesn't know whether I'll bite or run.

 

Rabid.

 

Don't go there.

Her mug went into the bathroom. So did her
toothbrush, toothpaste, and her travel-sized shampoo,
razors, and soap. They would just have to last until
she managed to go shopping.

Which could be tonight
, she reminded herself.

The idea of going out with Mary and meeting her
sisters—who,
Val
suspected,
would
be
just
as
loquacious as Mary herself—was not particularly
appealing, but at least it was better than going alone.
Herd mentality. Safety in numbers. Self-preservation.

Listen to yourself—you even sound like him.

Mary had her laptop out on her bed when Val
wandered back into their shared bedroom. She was
struggling with a long blue cable. “Is that an ethernet
cord?” Val asked after a moment.

Mary looked up. “Uh-huh.”

 

How medieval. So much for high-speed internet.
Things were going to suck come midterms. “Where
did you get that?”

“They were giving them out for free.”
“Where?”

“In the computer lab. Don't worry—I got one for
you, too. It looked like they were gonna run out.
Yours is in the closet. Other side,” she added, when
Val turned towards the space she'd just filled.
“Oh. Well, thank you very much.”

“It's no problem.” Mary scowled. “Now you see
my jack anywhere? It looks like a telephone plug.”

They looked for it. Val eventually located it
beneath Mary's bed. Mary cursed and crawled under
the oak frame to plug in the cable. Val took that
moment to remove the pill bottles from her backpack
and
stash
them
behind
her
pillow
where
they
wouldn't be seen.

“What a fool place to put the outlet.”

Mary had a dust bunny stuck in the tight,
corkscrewed curls of her hair. Val giggled, surprising
them both and she swallowed it guiltily.

“Well, I'll be. You
can
smile,” Mary said cheerfully
as she brushed the lint free. “Good to know!”

Val's smile disappeared. She used to be able to do
so much more. She had known how to be happy, free,
and unconcerned. But he had taken that all away,
wounding her,
marking
her, so he would be able to
trap and catch her all the more quickly.

“I think I'm going to take a nap.”

“You do that,” Mary said equably. She was
loading up her Facebook page, looking quite pleased
with herself. “I'll wake you for dinner.”

(You'd think I was going to eat you from the way you
look at me.)

Val swallowed hard and said, “Okay.”
Chapter Two
Love-Lies-Bleeding

Paralysis was her first clue she was dreaming: it
was the manifestation of her inherent helplessness.
The second was the lack of focus. Everything was
a little blurred around the edges. The final details of
the scene were lost. Even so, what she could see
remained vivid enough to frighten, to convince.
To terrify.

Dust coated the floorboards, the moldings, and
the sills. The curling
fleur-de-lis
wallpaper, with its
sour, musty smell, and the crisp black linens beneath
her. So familiar.