Hanging on by the skin of her teeth, she finished her Psychology assignment before the final bell let out. A page paragraph on the teachings of Freud and each of the psychosexual phases he proposed was written so quickly that the muscles in her hand ached something terrible.

Six classes were really weighing on her, and it was only Friday. She had gotten her notebooks confused and ended up taking down Geometry notes in her English notebook, and sketching Alexandre Cabanel's L'Ange Déchu for Art History on a sticky note because she could not find her notebook, digging through her bag frantically like a dog digging a hole in the garden. It caused a lot of sideways glances, and the teacher just rose an eyebrow. She had to settle for the sticky notes or risk being thrown out for disrupting everyone on accident.

She was scrambled — smushed like roadkill. No matter how good her body and mind felt today, she wanted to curl up in bed and drift away. But of course, that was not an option.

She shuffled down the hall, books in hand. Her lids were heavy with exhaustion as she wandered aimlessly through the students and staff alike. She came down from the second level, sharply turning the corner, and collided with someone.

She grunted as she stumbled, books falling as the person tumbled to the ground. Before she could figure out who she had bowled over, she was suddenly shoved back by strong hands.

"Watch where the fuck you're going," the person growled.

Temperance blinked and cut her gaze from the floor to the scene before her. Ji-Yeong was lifting herself from the ground, picking up some barrettes from the marble floor. And Kanani stood between them. Up close, Temperance could practically see the hateful aura rising from the slightly-smaller woman like a cobra standing up. Her eyes were venom green, and full eyebrows sliced with a diagonal line through the arch. Her full, glossy lips were drawn back into a snarl.

Temperance made her expression neutral, analyzing how this situation would end up if she did anything other than be mild. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, good for you. You passed Kindergarten and learned how to be sorry. If you're truly sorry, pick her shit up."

Temperance blinked, utterly perplexed at the situation.

Ji-Yeong chuckled awkwardly, no doubt trying to keep the peace. "N-Nini, I'm fine. It's not Temperance's fault. I was walking backward again."

"You're fine," Kanani snapped. "It's this bitch who needs to get her fucking eyes checked. You could have been hurt."

Temperance shifted her eyes briefly to the girl with the reddened knees from falling. "Are you okay, Ji—"

Kanani turned around so fast, borderline giving herself whiplash. "Are you ignoring me?"

Temperance set her jaw at the interruption. She thought about how to respond but went with emotion over logic. "Are you trying to pick a fight where there isn't one?"

That was the wrong answer.

Kanani lunged, her forearm slamming against Temperance's throat as she pushed her into the wall as easily as smacking a fly. She pinned the sickly girl there, eyes furious and pupils small. Temperance choked, her nails digging into Kanani's skin as she tried to divert the arm from her airway. But Kanani held her ground, keeping Temperance pressed up against the wall.

"Kanani!" Ji-Yeong shrieked in alarm.

"I don't know what it is about you but you piss me off," Kanani hissed.

"I'm— I'm not too... crazy about you right now, either..." Temperance gasped out, face contorting into a grimace identical to the girl that was nose-to-nose with her.

Spots lined her vision as Ji-Yeong tried to yank the girl with the box-braids from Temperance's neck. Acting before she could think it out, she balled her fist up—

And swung.

A solid punch landed, slamming Kanani's head to the side and loosening her grip. Temperance took advantage of Kanani's stunned state to duck beneath her forearm, successfully escaping. She dove down to pick up her books as Ji-Yeong shielded Temperance with her arms outstretched. By now a crowd had gathered, watching the fight ensue. Some jeered, others filmed and commented under their breaths. Kanani still faced the wall, hand cupping her jaw. Slowly she turned, murder in her eyes.

Her jaw clenched and unclenched as she sauntered toward Temperance. "You fucking—"

"That is enough!" A voice cut through the bystander's murmurs. The crowd parted to make way for the dean of students. Ottilie Jennings' ruby-red heels clicked against the marble as she marched through, her eyes dead set on Kanani. She was as primped and primed as ever, not a single hair out of place or a single smudge of red lipstick on her perfect, white teeth. "My office. Now."

Kanani scoffed in indignance. "What about her?!"

"I know you started it. Your father will be very interested to know what you've been up to, won't he?"

Kanani scrunched her nose, turning back to glare at Temperance. The two locked eyes for a moment — venom clashing against storm clouds — while Temperance maintained her neutrality. Kanani's iridescent eyes promised retaliation. And then she was gone, following Ottilie with angry stomps.

Ji-Yeong apologized profusely, trying to encourage Temperance to go to the nurse's but she refused.

"Seriously, I'm fine. I have things to do right now. I can't afford to spend an afternoon in the nurse's."

Instead, Ji-Yeong insisted on at least walking her to her dorm. Temperance relented and accepted.

Walking back to Block "I" was shrouded in silence. Temperance's mind raced while Ji-Yeong oozed guilt. There was a quiet goodbye before the two parted ways. When she got back inside her dorm, she was surprised at her reaction as she leaned her back against the cool metal door.

She laughed.

Giggling like a hyena.

Her adrenaline had plummeted, her body feeling light and relieved somehow. Like nothing bad could happen. Never in her entire life had someone pinned her like that, so outraged by a simple mistake, that she could not help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Once the tears of amusement had vacated her eyes, she sighed. Something about being choked out was wildly entertaining. The first time she had been in pain that was not from her own body turning against her. It was strangely refreshing, and she knew no one else would understand why she was cackling so hard. How was it that an angry girl with an overprotective streak could nearly knock her unconscious and make her feel the most alive than she had felt in months?

She supposed the help with Geometry was now on hold, but she just shrugged it off. Her eyes drifted over to the pile of laundry on the bed, and she took a deep breath in, readying herself to start laundry and get on with the rest of her day.

☽☼☾

Carrying her clothes down two flights of stairs as she struggled to see over the top of it was challenging, but luckily no one was in her way. They were either in the later-starting classes or setting up the theatre for movie night, people bustling past her as they popped popcorn and provided baggies of snacks in the dining hall. She entered the lowest level, walking down the hall and bypassing the theater room and the communal bathroom, aiming for the very last door: laundry.

She opened the door with her foot, pressing down on the door handle until it folded and swung open with a squeak. She flicked the light switch, the lights popping and flickering before jumping to life.

The laundry room was empty, with no other soul in sight. It was surprisingly smaller than the other two rooms beside it, crammed with stacked washer-dryers against the western wall. Chairs lined the opposite wall, while two large tables sat back to back to her right, intended for folding. Large industrial shelves lined the southern wall, and laundry soap, dryer sheets, bleach, fabric softener, and ironing materials lined it.

Temperance struggled to see over her pile of fabric, side-stepping like a crab to the washers. She chose the farthest one to the left, near the large metal shelving units. It was easier to set herself up there where she could grab all the materials she needed. With her pinky, she somehow managed to pop open the washer door, shoving the clothes in unceremoniously.

She chose and poured her laundry soap and fabric softener into the allotted slots and started the machine up, pulling her phone from her pocket to pass the time.

It used to drive her grandmother crazy how Temperance washed all her clothes together, not separating anything.

"They're getting clean," she would say in return.

Her grandmother would playfully roll her eyes and say, "You're just like your mother, I swear."

Temperance's reminiscent smile dimmed and her brow creased at the thought of her mother. She had been only four when Grace packed her in the car with a newborn Constance and left them on their grandmother's doorstep. No goodbyes, no explanations, no money. Temperance watched as her mother drove away, with no tears in her eyes as she watched the car disappear down the street. She had gone to grandma's so often, it had become more of a home than the shitty apartment they had been living in. The squalor was disturbing at the apartment. Rats, roaches, meth-heads directly below them. Her grandmother had begged to take Temperance away from it all several times, and Grace always shrugged her off. Not until Constance was growing in her stomach did she start actually considering it.

It only took a week for Temperance to realize that Grace was not coming back for them, and she felt the first sting of rejection. Her own mother did not want her. At least she cared enough to dump them with a trustworthy adult. She could have just pawned them off to foster care.

And when her grandmother finally succumbed to her long battle, Temperance and Constance sat in the first pew of the church, their grandmother's friends coming up and giving their condolences.

"Do you think Mom will come?" Constance had asked quietly, lashes dewed with tears.

Temperance had eyed her sister's hopeful stare at the back of the church, her teeth clenching. How dare Grace mess with her sister's emotions like this? Temperance's features softened, rubbing her sister's arm for comfort. She offered a singular reply, one neither hopeful nor cynical:

"Maybe."

How could Grace Mackenzie not attend her own mother's funeral? She trusted her enough to leave her kids with her but did not care enough to pay some last respects. Her two daughters had to bury her without financial or emotional support from their absent mother. Hell, Grace, herself, may not even be living anymore.

"Good riddance," Temperance muttered to herself as she shook the memory from her head. Dying made her more sentimental, more willing to rehash old, painful memories. It was exhausting.

Constance had replied hours ago, texting several things in tandem. First, she replied with sweet, encouraging words, talking about how happy she was that Temperance was enjoying herself. That quickly dissolved into her talking about her own school experiences, talking about how she accidentally fell asleep on her textbook the other night. Temperance cracked a gentle smile at the thought. It was Temperance who would remind little Connie to head off to bed before the hour got too late, but this time, Constance had to do it herself. Maybe this separation was good. When Temperance was dead and gone, Constance would be a little more self-reliable.

A cold draft hit her shoulder and she shuddered as its icy tendrils curled over her exposed skin, glancing away from the phone to see where it had come from.

She had not seen it when she came in. One of the shelving units had been pulled discreetly away from the wall, and the wall... the wall was open. It was angled away from the other paneling, with darkness in the space between. Dank, musty air drifted from it, pouring steadily into the laundry room. Confused, Temperance ventured forth, inquisitive as she came up to the wall.

She turned on her phone torch, angling it into the space behind the wall. She could see hinges on the inside gleaming bronze. Flashing the light further into the odd space, she saw white tile lining the floors, the same as the bathroom. But strangely, there was no dust or spiderwebs. It smelled of mustiness, yes, but also of bleach. Someone had been coming through here, and they kept it in top shape.

She gathered the courage to step through the opening, looking around as she fully immersed herself in the space. It looked like a long, long hallway. Like how the dorm hall looked on the first level. Metal doors lined the length of the passageway, blocked at the far end by double doors.

And then movement caught her eye. Near the double doors, something shifted in the shadows.

Temperance squinted. "Hello?" she called out. The shadows stilled. "Is someone there? I don't think we're supposed to be here—"

The wall slammed shut behind her, and she spun around with a gasp. She dropped her phone, slamming her palms against the false wall, fingers searching for an edge or a door handle to let her out. She whimpered, slamming against the surface as she was left destitute. She did not do well with small spaces. Small dark places were the bane of her existence.

Temperance growled out, "Hey! Is someone there? The fucking door shut and we're trapped in here! Hey—"

A slithering sound echoed in the hallway behind her, and her stomach flipped. It sounded like the snake from her hallucination. It had to be another one, right? Perfect. Just when she was already freaking out over being in a cramped place with no escape, her mind decides to be even crueler. Footsteps echoed, rumbling on the tiles as they approached slowly and steadily. The hissing continued, curling around her like smoke. Her body broke out in a cold sweat as she reluctantly peered over her shoulder and then—

Blackness.

A void so thick and dark it could only be the work of her tumor swallowing her in iciness. Slowly, it spat her out, undulating darkness surrounding her. It felt so quick — her rising from the muck of her mind. Much faster than she had ever fainted before.

She woke up on the floor, head spinning and cheek cold on the tile. There was a small sliver of light curling out from the bottom of the false wall and Temperance squinted at the sight of it.

Groaning, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her mouth was cotton-dry and her stomach loudly exclaimed its emptiness. She raised her hand to wipe the sweat from her cheek, but it was crusted and thick. Perplexed, she groped her cheek, feeling the substance sticking in her hair and trailing down her neck.

"What the fuck...?"

She felt around blindly in the dark, searching for her phone. When it graced her fingertips, she pressed the unlock button and let the light from the screen illuminate her fingers.

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

Temperance gasped, hand flying to her head to search for injuries. She was extremely relieved to not have busted her skull open, but blood does not just appear out of nowhere. She let her phone screen light up the floor, following a river of blood as it seeped in through the small sliver in the wall.

Before she could process anything else, a startled shriek rattled her to her bones. It came from the other side of the wall, bloodcurdling and terrified. She thought a scream like that only existed in the movies. Dozens of footsteps suddenly stampeded to the laundry room, called in by the commotion. And Temperance felt nauseated as more screams sounded.

"Oh, my God!" a girl shrieked. "Someone call for help! I think she's dead!"