Alice's POV

A loud, boisterous knock snapped me out of my heavy daze, my mind muffled and clouded with nothing but fog.

A fog that dimmed out everything else.

A fog that held me in its clutches, strong and warm and draining. I felt drained. I didn't want to get out of my bed and from under the pile of quilts that were draped over me.

The knocking ensued. "Alice, open up before I break this thing down!" An angry voice followed, trying to sneak past the wariness in my chest. "I know you're in there. I'm not leaving until you open the door!"

I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled a thick, scratchy quilt further over my head, trying to ward myself from any noise and every intrusion. It made it harder to breathe but the heavy weight over my heart was already there, ever since I'd left Ryder's penthouse and found my way here, and it wasn't going away. I was fine as long as I was here and hidden under the heavy pile of quilts.

"Alice!" Nico shouted again and I flinched, the bed creaking a little below me. "Alice, people are giving me looks, for fuck's sake open the fucking door!"

Go away, I wanted to say. But I didn't have the energy. My throat felt dry. My bones felt heavy. I didn't want to get up and walk to the end of my dorm room, stare at the empty space Brooke used to occupy, and open the door to a dangerous onslaught of light.

I didn't want to get up. I was exhausted.

"Alice--" he broke off and I heard someone else speaking to him outside. Closing my eyes again, I pretended I couldn't hear them. After a while, it was almost as if Nico hadn't been there in the first place.

I was proved wrong about that when there was a jingle of my locked door knob, a key being rattled until it turned, and the door was thrown open.

"Alice." Nico gritted out. Silence ensued. I gripped the edges of the quilt closer to me. The door was closed shut and then the silence continued. "Fucking hell. What the hell's going on?"

There were footsteps, curtains being drawn apart in a loud swish, and then one by one the quilts were snatched away from me.

"Alice." Nico didn't sound so angry anymore. He sounded confused as he loomed over me.

I blinked, grimaced at the harsh light, and tried to sit up. Everything wobbled until I pressed my back to the pillow behind me.

Nico stared at me with a worried crease between his brows. It wasn't--I could vaguely register in my brain that I'd never seen him look so concerned before.

"I..." I said and grimaced at the dry taste in my mouth. "I'm tired. Just let me sleep."

He placed his gloved hands on his hips. "Why? You look like death walked all over you. You've been in here for days, Alice! You haven't gotten out of your dorm in three days! Have you been in your bed this whole time?"

Three days, my mind registered sluggishly. I swallowed and pulled up my knees to my chest, sniffed and grimaced again because I hadn't taken a shower and I really needed one. I felt hot and cold all over. I just felt so exhausted.

I'd been here for three whole days? I found myself wondering. I didn't know. I hadn't noticed. All I knew was that I didn't want to get up, didn't have the energy to explain. Because there was so much that was wrong and I wanted it all to just stop.

I looked up, watched Nico do a one-eighty and start picking up my clothes from the floor. Clothes that I remembered pulling out of the closet, all anxious and worried, letting my shirts and scarves and dresses clutter on the floor in a heap because I'd thought I'd get them tidy when I came back--I'd thought I would come back from that double date with Alyssa and Michael and Ryder. I just hadn't realized how badly the night would turn into.

With me not coming back to my dorm at all. I shuddered.

"What is this?" Nico asked again. "What is going on? Are you sick? Do you have the flu? Why the fuck do you look like a vulture pecked you over in all the wrong places?"

I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes and dug them until I saw blinding white.

The bedding in front of me dipped. I winced and pressed my face into my knees.

"Is it a hangover?" Nico inquired, though he wasn't speaking so loudly now that he was sitting right in front of me. "Did you get drunk last night? Talk, Rhodes!"

"Can you stop?" I snapped at him, wincing again when my throat clicked shut.

Nico went quiet, eerily quiet. I didn't get--didn't understand what his problem was, why he was here in the first place? People left me well and truly alone either way, so why couldn't he do the same when I really needed to be left alone?

The fresh sunlight coming through my windows made me feel sick. It made my stomach roil.

"Close the curtains," I said. "I told you I'm tired, so please just leave me alone."

Nico kept staring at me.

"Nico, leave me alone." I gritted out with the barest of effort that still felt like leeches sucking me dry. "Just...fucking leave me alone."

He blinked, scowled, and then pointed a finger at me. "Something's wrong. You're being rude."

I wanted to cry. Instead, I grabbed one of the quilts and tried to tug it over me. Nico intercepted and snatched it before I could pull it over my head.

"What happened?" He glared at me. "You said you were going on a date. What did the asshole do? What's his name--the wannabe Soren doppelganger?"

I stayed silent this time, waiting and waiting and letting each word of his dig down deep inside me, the dark heaviness--I closed my eyes.

"You're acting just like Brooke did the few days before she left for good, only to end up in a fucking hospital." He remarked, shuffling over before adding, "Is something the matter with your family? Did you fight with someone?"

My family, I thought blankly. I won't have a family by the time Mom found out about everything that had happened--everything that had been happening for years now.

"No. I'm fine." I replied sluggishly and dug my fingers through my tangled hair. "I just haven't...haven't slept in a while. Properly." I've been tossing and turning on my bed, dozing off and waking up from fitful, short naps. For three days. I'd lost count of time.

Nico regarded me with a pensive gaze. "You look ill. Are you sure you haven't caught something? Is your..." He trailed off, pulling a woolen glove off and pressing his hand to my forehead. He wasn't gentle about it and it only came off as a slap to my forehead. I winced and saw the crease on his forehead deepening. "You're cold. I thought you'd be warm with a fever. You're like, freezing, what the fuck."

I shied away from his touch. "I told you I'm fine."

"Your skin's cold as ice!"

"I'm fine, Nico." I pressed, glared at him with the bolt of frustration running through me, and watched the incredulity rising on his face.

"Fine. Don't tell me. It's not like I'm dying to find out anyway. Stay pissed for all I care."

"Then why won't you just leave?" I asked, my voice coming out scraped raw. "Just leave me be, you're giving me a headache."

Nico made a wounded, surprised noise at that. I looked up at him tiredly, felt the heaviness digging deep inside me, and watched the hurt on his face change to...to delight. Pure fucking delight.

"I thought," he whispered, then cleared his throat, "that you're incapable of being so grumpy!"

Closing my eyes briefly, I shook my head and got out of bed. It was a heady, dizzying sensation--getting out of bed after hours, days, of laying there. But I didn't want to stay there anymore because I really truly wished Nico would just leave.

"Your dorm neighbor gave me the key, by the way." He added, turning around to face me as I made my way to my desk. "You know her? Well, you must know her enough to give her a spare key. Also, who does that?"

"I gave her Brooke's key because...I didn't want to keep it."

"You weren't supposed to keep it. You were supposed to hand it over to the offices." Nico deadpanned.

I picked up the half-full bottle of water that sat on my desk. I didn't remember where it'd come from. I only unscrewed the cap and drank the rest of it until I wasn't feeling so thirsty anymore. My fingers shook slightly.

There was only silence then. I heard some shuffling behind me. When I turned around, I saw Nico picking up stacks of papers from Brooke's bed--the empty, unoccupied bed.

"You've been missing out on classes so I brought over all the assignments and notes." He said, shrugged, and dumped them all on my bed before regarding me with a judgmental stare. "You're welcome, by the way. Also, you look like days-old dog shit."

I pressed my back to the desk behind me. I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know if I was supposed to say something. The drowsiness in my head was slowly lifting, and everything--everything else was coming back. Slow and dark and torturous.

The utter, pure pain on Alyssa's tear-stained face, the phantom feel of Michael's hands on me, and the tortured scars on Ryder's back.

It all scared me.

It left me feeling like I was about to fall, fall from a cliff so high that only led to a terrifying void of darkness.

"Jesus." He groaned out, rubbing his hands over his face, ruffling his hair, before snatching his glove from my bed and putting it back on. "I've concluded that this version of you is even worse than your usual preppy self. Come on, up--up! We're taking a walk outside."

I seized where I stood. "I'm fine here."

"Fuck me sideways, no you are not. You look like a ghost. You either stay here and tell me what the fuck is going on with you or I'm dragging your ass out of here whether you like it or not." He stood mere inches away from me, glared, and put his hands on his hips.

"Where..." I swallowed, wiped my clammy hands on my shirt and tried to ask again, "Where will we go?"

He eyed me for a long time. "The cafeteria. And then the music department. I've got to catch Nancy and give her a piece of my mind before she escapes to her next class."

I wanted to ask him what Nancy had done, but my brain had already shied away from that bit of information.

"The music department," I said, slow and tentative. There would be violins there. "I...I'll go there with you."

I didn't think there'd be any danger waiting there for me. I didn't think there would be anyone--anything that would harm me there. It wouldn't be so dark there either, a voice whispered in my head.

Nico shrugged. "Sure. Let's get going then."

I nodded. I didn't think I had much of a choice.

•••••

I'd been wrong. I'd thought so, so wrong about the whole situation. I'd thought I'd be fine stepping out of my room when I hadn't left it for days. I'd thought everything would be fine and I'd feel safe if I just kept telling myself so in my head.

But I didn't. Nothing was fine.

"Where's your phone?" Nico asked me as we walked side by side towards the music department. "It kept saying your phone's switched off when I tried calling you."

I fidgeted with the ends of my scarf, a deep red that hid the faint bruises on my neck just well. Nico had eyed them when I'd gotten out of the shower, freshly dressed and searching for a scarf. He'd not said anything, but he'd given me a look that had said enough.

"It's powered off," I told him softly. "I think."

Ryder had given it back to me when he'd dropped me here from his penthouse (he'd asked me to stay--he'd never asked anything else, ever, from me). There hadn't been any notification from Alyssa. I'd switched it off after her call had gone to voicemail for the fifth time.

I didn't know where my phone was now, just like I hadn't known three whole days had passed with me on my bed with no real awareness of my surroundings. Sometimes it was just easier for me to forget about everything when the curtains were drawn close.

Nico sighed but didn't ask me anything anymore. I shivered as a cool breeze blew our way, wishing deep down for the hundredth time I'd had the nerve to put on Ryder's jacket that sat in my dorm closet. But I hadn't worn it so it was my mistake. I hadn't wanted to wear it when I still felt dirty--used--disgusting even after trying to scrub myself raw in the shower.

I wished I was still there with Ryder at his house. I wished. But I couldn't. I needed to stop using him or he'd be sick of me too. One day I'd push him away--I nearly had when I said such hurtful words to him at his house, all because he'd seen me with Michael and I couldn't fathom what to do about it, how to fix it and how to make him not hate me.

I didn't know how I'd take it--only knew that it would maybe just ruin something inside me if he grew to hate me. If he left.

Most of the time, countless seconds and minutes I could remember, I felt like I was submerged so deep in a cold body of water--not being able to breathe or see or feel except for the...the dark cold.

"Do you think Professor McAdams would be in there?" I asked Nico.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, why?"

I swallowed, then shook my head. Nico nudged me on the shoulder but didn't say anything.

The class was emptying up by the time Nico and I made our way there. Nico stopped halfway and shouted Nancy's name. She stopped, shouldering her guitar case, her head swiveling around until she saw us standing by the entrance, and then she broke into a loud cackle before breaking for a run. I watched as Nico cussed out loud and ran after her.

"I'll be back, Rhodes!" He shouted at me but he was already turning around the corner.

I watched them both leave, standing so still and silent, until one of the students knocked me a little to the side. I stumbled and heard her apologizing in a hurry. I looked around, eyes wide and a little disoriented before I turned and forced myself to make my way inside the music hall and stop stalling.

"No, you've got to perfect the chord. You make it sound like a duck when it's supposed to be sounding like an elephant." I heard behind me and only got out of the way in time before I could get knocked aside once again.

"Alice! Is that you?"

I turned around so fast that I nearly had a whiplash. Standing just a few feet away from me was a girl I'd seen before. I didn't remember her name. I didn't remember where I'd last seen her. Stiffening, I took a small, scared step back.

She didn't seem to notice me starting to panic. "I'm Ella, from the volunteering group, remember?"

Oh, I thought, dizzy with relief.

"Yeah. Yes. Hey." I told myself to stop freaking out, but couldn't stop myself from looking around the room with the pulse leaping in my throat.

"What're you doing here?" She asked me, grinning. "You didn't make it to the Christmas event, did you? You missed out on it, man. It was so cool to be in the audience for once, you know?"

I nodded. "I...Mr McAdams told me about the donation. The Stradivarius. I was--"

"Oh! You wanna see it?" She asked, eyes wide and curious. "It's so pretty, even if it's old old, but you'd love it. Come on, I'll show you where it is."

Ella led me towards the back of the Hall where the equipment rooms were. Only a few students remained and even they seemed in a hurry to head out. I could feel my heart pulsing almost feverishly, excited and scared and just...paranoid of what waited for me ahead.

I knew it was just a violin. I still wasn't ready for the sight of it, though.

"There it is. Such a pretty thing, no?" Ella chirped beside me.

I stopped, stared at a matte black violin case leaning against one wall, and a dark spruce wood violin--the most beautiful violin I had ever seen--placed on one of the black cushioned seats. And it was just there, lying there so carelessly, as if it was just like the rest of them even when anyone could see that it wasn't.

"Apparently, the Music Academy's director donated this as a goodwill gesture, but everyone's saying he's a right pretentious bastard, so there might have been no goodwill involved there." She continued speaking behind me.

I slowly walked a little towards the violin, hesitating and looking over at Ella. She shooed me forward and spoke, "I actually gotta dash, my boyfriend's been waiting for me outside. I'll see you around, yeah?"

I nodded because I still couldn't find proper words on my tongue, and watched as she grinned. She waved at me, turned around, and left from the way we'd come.

One second ticked by. Two, three.

I was all alone.

I walked to the delicate violin, the warm chestnut of it marked in all the well-worn places, well used, and it looked--it looked a little bit and so much like the violin I'd grown up with--the violin that my dad had and the one he'd given to me. The one I'd spent days and nights playing because it was better and it was good and it made me forget things that were sad. I could almost feel the bow in my hand, my fingers curling around thin air, because it wasn't there.

It never would be.

It ached. Because my mom had once snatched it away from me--so harsh, so fast, and it'd scarred the tips of my fingers. I'd watched a droplet of blood pooling on the tip of my index finger as she'd yelled at me to, "Get done with your homework, Alice," and she'd tossed my violin aside and I'd watched it rattle on the floor like shards of ice piercing my heart, "How many times do I tell you to stop?"

I blinked and got out of my head, and my thoughts, and found that I'd somewhat picked up the violin and hadn't even noticed. My heart skipped an anxious beat.

I looked around, suddenly too aware and wary, but no one was there and I was still all alone in the equipment room. I didn't think, I didn't think twice, because I hadn't touched it--hadn't touched a violin in days, weeks, years, and I needed to feel it. I needed to hear it, just so I'd know I hadn't all forgotten how it sounded like. How it felt like.

I sat down on the floor, gingerly grabbing the bow, not too lightweight and not too heavy--just perfect, and held it between my fingers. Placing the neck of the violin below my jawline felt like a relief too strong--a feeling that made me think of home, fresh air, and...and Dad.

I didn't remember what he looked like, I just remembered a blurry outline of him, and I didn't even remember him ever playing his violin for me.

And yet it always, always, always reminded me of him. Of someone who hadn't even cared enough to stay. Who hadn't stayed to hear me out.

No one ever did.

Except for Ryder, a tiny, hopeful voice sparked in the deepest corners of my mind.

I breathed in slowly, closed my eyes, and then it was like breathing. Just breathing. I could still, even after so long, could still play it. It wasn't good. I didn't know what I was playing, I didn't hear it--not really. But I knew it was mine and I knew I was rusty but it was working--I hadn't forgotten. It was still there.

The only thing that hadn't left.

The odd tune wavered its way to my ears, and I breathed in deep, the tips of my fingers familiarizing themselves with the strings, the sharpness, the grounding feel of them. I slid the bow along them, felt the glide in the core of my heart, felt it, pressed my fingers harder into the sharpness and felt--more than saw--the sudden change in the atmosphere.

I jerked open my eyes, heard the hushed murmurs, and only barely stopped the old expensive violin from tumbling to the floor. I grabbed it and pulled it closer to my chest, my eyes blown wide as they darted from Professor McAdams standing right there, and a few other people--students--crowding by the door that had been empty seconds ago.

I snapped my gaze back to Professor McAdams' in horror. And it was horror--terrifying--because this wasn't right. I shouldn't have--I wasn't supposed to--

"Holy shit, that was amazing!" Someone said from the doorway.

I scrambled up, trying to find who'd said it, felt the fear prickling over my skin, and was about to apologize a hundred times if only that would get them all to stop looking at me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, heard my voice crack, and swallowed.

There were more hushed whispers. My eyes darted from the door to Professor McAdams. He said something to me, but I was trying so hard to see how many people stood near the doorway, because what if Nico had been one of them or--or Soren? Soren had a class here, what if--

My eyes found dark obsidian ones, a boy with a hood halfway pulled over his head standing just at the corner of the doorway, staring.

The words died down on my tongue.

Dark eyes, shorn hair, that face.

A startled, scared noise left my lips. No one seemed to hear it as few of the students came inside the room, a girl complimenting me even though I didn't--couldn't hear her, and someone patted my shoulder--

"You just need a little practice, that piece is meant to be played in orchestras!"

I snapped my gaze away, tried to say something, find who'd said those words.

But then my slow, sluggish brain screamed at me. Santiago.

And when I looked back up at the doorway, the boy I could swear was Santiago, who'd been standing there just seconds ago, with his dark eyes fixed on me, was gone.

Like he hadn't been there in the first place.

------
im so sorry if these recent (past and future) chapters seem a bit rushed and/or grammatically nightmarish. Im supposed to be updating atleast once every week and my mind isn't functioning like it should </3

do feel free to point out any errors u come across. I'd be more than grateful