Doubts raised concerns; concerns raised suspicion, and for a split second, Tammy felt a pair of sinister eyes on her.
She jerked back to an empty hallway, her heart pounding heavily and drying out her mouth.
'Water!'
Tammy reminded herself she had to go downstairs for water anyway. And if she happened to check on the warden's room while she was at it, well… that was following the pendant's direction and completing the hazing ritual in one go.
"The Lord wants me to cover all my bases," she whispered, forcing optimism into her voice. "Even though all my bases are built on wrong deeds… each worse than the last." Her shoulders sagged. "Deed first, forgiveness later," she muttered, lifting her pinky toward the ominous dark skies in a solemn, childish oath.
The corridors reclaimed their dull, corpse-like hue as she walked. Tammy took careful steps, each footfall swallowed by the oppressive quiet.
A ten-minute walk stretched into an hour, every corridor elongated into impossible distances, every turn looping back onto itself like a serpent swallowing its tail.
By the time she reached the warden's office, a palpable weight lifted off her chest.
'At last, an adult.' She told herself.
Someone who could take charge, even if they scolded her on multiple occasions, right up until sunrise.
Do they ever consider helping a troubled child? She wondered, peeking inside.
A thin sliver of light spilled across the cot, igniting hope, brief and fragile, until she saw the source of her hope.
The warden lay sprawled across her mattress in the most unwomanly, un-nunly manner possible: snoring, one arm slung over her face, mouth gaping open, and robes riding up in a chaotic heap. It was far from the saintly image she had expected from a woman of God.
Tammy let out a breath of relief, grateful she'd avoided a lecture.
"And then the angry stares after," she mumbled, cursing the echoing hallways designed to carry sound and abuses, instead of hope and laughter.
She tiptoed past the warden's room, heading toward the kitchen to grab water; an absurd requirement for the so-called initiation ritual the girls had planned.
The kitchen's warmth hit her like a soft embrace after the frigid, endless corridors. The electric stove sat unused in the corner, stirring memories that soothed her tired nerves.
Night brought its own hunger, and the idea of cooking noodles with meat and vegetables made her stomach tighten painfully.
The phantom meal took shape in her mind: soft noodles, cooked in a thick broth of pork, fresh vegetables, tantalizing spices, and a soft-boiled egg, garnished with a few more dry noodles for that crunchy aftertaste.
She admits that a broken stove shared amongst a hundred classmates made her cook in a hurry, leaving many stubborn noodles uncooked. But after months of midnight cravings, the crunchy aftertaste from uncooked noodles became addictive.
Tammy's strong senses took form, creating a thick slush of saliva that filled her mouth, recreating the flavour from memory alone. The spicy broth irritated her tongue just right, while her teeth dug into the tender meat, breaking it to release the egg yolk that cooled her tongue.
That's not right, she told herself, yet kept indulging in the warmth and the subtle bite of meat until the phantom broth scalded her tongue.
She spat quickly, mumbling in discomfort.
Her spit hit the floor with a wet thud, darkening instantly as it soaked up the grime, turning into a viscous black sludge that slithered into the shadows.
Tammy froze, her senses widening to take in the entire mess hall, drinking in every sound, every shadow, for signs of movement.
Click—The wall clock struck, and her lungs unlocked, vision snapping back into motion.
She crouched, hesitant, trying to understand what she'd just seen, but a wave of stench hit her like a physical blow.
She reeled back, slipping and landing hard on her bottom. Yet the foul odour clung to her nostrils like glue, relentless and sour.
'Had the meat been rotten? Rotten in my mind…? In my imagination?' She didn't want her questions answered. Not now.
A shimmer passed across the kitchen floor; a shadow stretching too long, too thin.
Tammy scrambled out of its path, terrified it might swallow her whole. But then a metallic chime split the air—close. Too close.
'Ankle bells.' She clung to that explanation. 'Of course, it's Trisha. She's been gone forever; she had to return at some point and check up on a dear friend.'
The chiming sound of her anklets wasn't stable. It skipped around the kitchen, ricocheting from wall to wall before finally settling inside her skull; soft at first, like metal kissing the floor. Graceful. Ritualistic. Like a performer's invitation.
The rhythm pulled at her—gentle, coaxing… wrong.
Tammy's grip tightened around the water bottles. Something deep within her warned her to stay back, but her mind betrayed her by moving her legs up and out. Her pulse climbed while her feet marched without permission.
The bells pulled her along a path she did not choose.
The closer she came, the quieter they grew, as though they were listening—aware—waiting for her to catch up.
'Something doesn't want to be found,' her mind screamed, yet she followed.
A rotten stench curdled the air. Not burnt noodles. Something far older. Something that had reached the threshold of decay and rotten eggs.
A door creaked open ahead, the wind squeezing itself through the rusted keyhole and exhaling a long, wheezing sigh.
The bells leapt forward, slipping through the threshold as though eager to escape their pursuer.
Tammy saw the shadow move with an eerie grace, fluid and deliberate. It flickered around her feet, expanding in a flash before retreating into the open doorway.
She knew precisely where it had gone. That door led only to one place after all—a place sealed off since the last incident involving someone overwhelmed by expectations.
Tammy's heart hammered as she stepped outside into the electrified air of the terrace, ignoring her hair that rose for the night that reached for her.
She scanned the terrace; her breath held tight to suppress her heart from beating any louder.
"Trisha!" She called out, her voice barely a whisper, struck down by fear. "Tris?"
Tammy finally spotted Trisha at the ledge… a single hop away from ending it all!
Her head hung downward, as if something below whispered sweet invitations only she could hear, while her anklets chimed with eerie precision, dancing to a rhythm her feet did not follow.
The metallic jingle of the bells was carried across the campus. Each chime fed a buried desire Tammy didn't know she held:
A sudden, horrifying urge to shove Trisha over the edge.
The rhythm of her ankle bells was too clean, too purposeful, nothing within its rhythm hinting that a human was playing it.
Tammy's breath hitched as she realized… The shadow hadn't vanished; it had simply chosen a new dancer.
———<>||<>——— End of Chapter Fifty-One. ———<>||<>———