I need to go out now. Night isn’t the best time but I don’t want Peyton asking questions, so I sneak off into the darkness again, vaguely aware that Booker might catch me. But everything is falling apart anyway so nothing matters. Someone is after me. Someone’s been in my room. Someone knows everything I’ve taken measures to hide and it could all come out at any moment, so everything needs to happen now.

I don’t want to tell Ellis about this, for some reason. I don’t like that I’m keeping secrets from him. Though this isn’t a secret, really. But something about this feels personal and I want to do it alone.

The woods.

There’s a mile of fence. Some of it runs through the back of the Willowwood.

The whole thing is streaked in long, dirty shadows.

I illuminate the chain link with the flashlight on my phone, not totally sure what I’m looking for, then I see it. There’s a section of the chain link breathing and flexing of its own accord with the wind, not in tandem with the rest. I approach and wrap it in my fingers and pull – it gives in nearly a straight line, all the way down. The edges are as evenly silver as the rest of the fence – not rusted. It’s almost as if it’s been intentionally cut away. Quietly, without drawing attention to itself. My blood runs cold.

I take a breath that feels cold and sharp even in the warmth. The beam of my flashlight flicks over the treeline, searching for any sort of guidance, clue – reassurance? But the woods owe me nothing. They never have. Certainly not today, with me here, planning to gut them.

Go in.

I don’t know what part of me says it. The yawning darkness in front of me. It’s the way forward. I can feel it. For a moment I think I actually might. I actually might cross the barrier. I peel back the fence to see. Right size for a person, exactly.

I swallow, but my throat is swollen and it’s painful.

Not now. I can’t do it now.

And then – movement. Movement from beyond the trees.

A lumbering figure. A flash of hair.

Celeste. Celeste Celeste Celeste –

I turn away, goosebumps prickling the back of my neck. Why am I welling up? What am I doing?

I set off for the dorm and whatever ghost there is haunting the No-Names tonight watches me go.

Memories always come at night.

There’s something about the dark that evokes monsters that don’t relent once roused. Maybe it’s because in the monochrome of darkness one’s mind can project easily on top of it.