Vacant (Empathy #3) (2 page)

I LOOK DOWN AT MY sketchbook; Ryan’s image looks back up at me and a shiver ripples through me like a wave on a choppy sea. He’s all I’ve drawn since that night he disappeared amongst the flames.

My skin tingles with unease when I sense eyes on me. A shadow falls over me, blocking out the sun, and I look up to see a guy who’s slightly out of breath; sucking at the air, breathing harshly. He reaches out, holding a piece of paper. I take it from him and he turns and leaves. I look around; the campus is busy, yet I heard and sensed no one until he approached, drawing me from my own obscure world. A sigh pushes past my lips. If this is from Hannah, the bitch across the hall, I’m going to lose my shit. Hannah is my dorm neighbor and the party girl of the campus. She took an instant dislike to me when I arrived and her boyfriend, Tom, helped me in the corridor when my bag broke and all my art supplies rolled away. He became a little too friendly, with his hands on my ass while helping me to my feet, and she noticed and made me pay for it with her bitchy comments and no invites to her parties. I don’t want to go to them anyway but her disdain makes me practically a leper to the other girls in our dorm. Mix that with my less-than-friendly moods and I’m practically a walking virus to them all.

I look down at the ink on the paper and my heart stills in my chest.

My arms wrap around my waist to offer myself comfort. My eyes mist over and scan the faces of the crowds and streets, imploring him to show himself. To appear like an apparition stealing me away, rescuing me from this life I’m stuck in.

I get to my feet and grab the arms of the people passing to look at their faces, gaining confused looks from them. My insides wilt with every passing face that isn’t his. He’s alive. Oh, God, he’s alive. Why did this feel like a goodbye? Why not come to me himself? My hope of him seeking me out and helping me to deal with this growing discomfort inside my soul withers with each re-read of his letter. His ghost can’t even haunt me now because he isn’t dead, yet I’m still completely alone. Is he really heartless like Mom claimed? Does he not want me with him?

RUBBING THE TEARS AWAY, I gather my things and head back to campus. I have a report due but I just want to take a nap. A blast of exhaustion washing through me has wiped me out. Before I can reach my dorm I notice Randal grinning, and jogging towards me. He’s a fantastic artist and already has a job buying and supplying artwork. I planned to do some illustrator work outside of college but can’t find the drive to draw anything other than Ryan. Randal is someone I like and look up to, which is rare for me. It also helps that for some reason he doesn’t care that I’m a moody bitch, or that I’ve been outcast by the dorm diva. He appears to be more mature than our peers and does his own thing.

“Hey, girl! Where have you been?” he asks, nudging my shoulder with his. I shrug but don’t answer. “Well, check out the new artwork hanging in the main entrance before you disappear to hide away in your dorm room.” He tuts and leaves me to look at his fading figure. I decide to see what he’s talking about, curiosity getting the better of me.

There are other students gathered, looking at said artwork. The piece that used to be there was by a student from fifteen years ago who went on to become a famous artist now living in New York. I manage to push my way through the crowd and my insides churn. The painting that won me first place in a local gallery’s competition and went up for auction, now sits pride of place in the main entrance. I read the accompanying quote and want to let the dam burst and crumble right here into a pool of my own tears but I’m stronger than that. If I’ve survived this long without him I can go on surviving, right?

I inhale and exhale through my nose and will myself to stop being a sniffling bitch. He freaking left me and pining after him won’t get me anywhere.

“The school bought it?” I ask myself, but get an answer spat at me from my right.

“Get over yourself. It was donated. You probably bought it yourself and then donated it so they would have to showcase it. It’s fucking creepy as shit, just like you, emo girl.” Hannah flicks her golden blonde locks hair over her shoulder and pushes past me, followed by a couple of clones who shadow her like she’s some form of goddess. If our sector of campus wasn’t so detached from the rest of the college her bullshit wouldn’t matter. No one in college would take a girl still stuck in high school seriously, but because the art and creative side has its own dorms and facilities it’s pretty much like a small separate college and she holds rank here amongst our peers; it’s vomit-worthy. I watch her slim body sway in the direction of her boyfriend, Tom.

I’M READY TO PEEL THE skin off my own face to kill the boredom of being in this dud’s presence. If I wasn’t so damn handsome I might settle for just banging my head on the table.

What a bitter disappointment this guy is; no kids, and a wife who fucks the gardener and flirts so openly with me that if I stuck my dick in her on the breakfast table, Joseph wouldn’t be shocked or even care. He hates her; it was clear in his thin-lipped smirk when she burnt herself on the eggs she was trying to cook while drinking mimosa this morning. I’ve been here for a week now and if anything I think he’s the one torturing me with his mundane life. He looks tired and older than his forty-two years. It’s hard to believe we’re related; he’s not attractive like I am and doesn’t hold even a fraction of my intelligence, and he definitely doesn’t crave to live out my urges. He’s miserable, unhappy with his life and depressed to be married to a whore. There’s nothing to work with, which made the trip a waste of my precious time.