It turned out not to be her heartbeat at all, but Sophie.
The bedroom door flew open with a bang, and an enraged Sophie stormed inside.
"And don't you dare tell me you've been asleep this whole time!" she grumbled, trying to shake her friend awake.
"Right—the party... I completely forgot," Evelyn mumbled groggily, trying to pull herself out of the nightmare and make sense of the fact that she was back in ordinary reality.
"I'm giving you fifteen minutes to get ready. No more," Sophie said, already turning toward the door. "And if I were you, I'd pray the showers are still free."
She slammed the door behind her and disappeared.
Evelyn looked around. Victoria was gone; all that remained was her empty bed, carefully made. Evelyn hadn't even unpacked yet, so it took her a while to dig out her toiletries, a sheer pink blouse, and a black skirt before hurrying out herself.
A quick shower helped her gather her thoughts. By the time she was fully awake again, with fresh makeup on and a new outfit, she headed downstairs, where an irritated Sophie was already waiting.
"I was this close to leaving without you," Sophie complained.
"You wouldn't take one step without me," Evelyn shot back.
Sophie laughed and lightly smacked her with her dark green purse.
"You look amazing," she declared.
Evelyn decided to tease her back.
"You don't look too bad yourself..."
"I've had better compliments," Sophie sighed dramatically.
"Only from drunk people—" Evelyn was cut off by another swat of the purse.
Night dropped over Blackcroft with startling speed, swallowing the last traces of daylight. Under the dim moonlight, veiled by clouds, the campus's red brick now looked pitch-black, like tar. The girls walked toward the boys' dorm, where the noise was already spilling out into the night.
"She is such a complete bitch. Absolutely unbearable," Evelyn complained. "I had barely walked in, and she was already rolling her eyes at me."
"Then just say it: bitch," Sophie advised.
"By the way, she really is related to the director."
"No way." Sophie put on a look of surprise. Not that she didn't believe her—she was simply reacting the way she was expected to. "How do you know?"
"I saw a photo on her nightstand—both of them together. And the second Victoria noticed me staring, she shoved it into the drawer."
"Yeah... must be hard for her."
Evelyn stared at her.
"Are you seriously defending her?"
"No!" Sophie protested. "Just think about it—being watched all the time. Isn't that why people move far away from their parents? That's probably why she turned into such a bitch."
Evelyn was genuinely taken aback by the sympathy in her voice. She had expected support, yes—but not for Victoria.
"Great. Keep feeling sorry for that bitch, then," she teased.
Sophie threw up her hands with an annoyed groan.
"Who said I feel sorry for her? I'm just trying to understand the motive."
She stepped closer and took Evelyn by the hands.
"You know I'm always on your side."
A deafening chime tore through the air around them. Both girls flinched.
"What was that—the clock?" Evelyn asked.
"Probably." Sophie shrugged. "It's already nine. The party's started. Forget the bitch and let's move, before all the cute ones are taken."
It felt as if the party had spread through the entire dorm. Dozens of drunk people crowded the corridors, dancing, playing beer pong—having the time of their lives. Nearly every room stood wide open, and whatever was happening behind the closed doors was no secret to anyone.
"Well, damn..." Sophie breathed approvingly.
"Was that surprise?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. We've just been to parties like this before."
"Don't kill the mood. It's our first college party."
"At the last school party we went to, we got blackout drunk and I still don't remember a thing," Evelyn recalled.
"Exactly!" Sophie cried happily. "I don't know about you, but I fully intend to recreate that experience..."
She spun around and began scanning the rooms for anything resembling a bar.
"Aha—there you are!"
Sophie grabbed Evelyn by the hand and dragged her through the crowd to a table of drinks. Without hesitation, she picked up two cups, handed one to Evelyn, then hovered her hand over the bottles like a chess player deciding on an opening move.
Then she turned to Evelyn, doubt and confusion in her eyes.
"No. Don't tell me you're doing this again..." Evelyn understood immediately.
Sophie clicked her tongue loudly and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, come on. You've been killing the vibe all day. We came here to have fun, dance, and meet people—or just stand around?"
"Exactly. We came here to have fun, dance, and meet people—not to end up lying in a puddle of vomit in some corner."
Any attempt to reason with her failed spectacularly.
"Suit yourself." Sophie set the cup down, picked up the first bottle, poured a little into her own cup, then did the same with several more. Evelyn watched her calmly repeat the process again and again, utterly unfazed.
"Fine, whatever," Evelyn blurted out. "Make me the same thing. Who cares what people think?"
Sophie threw her arms around her.
"I knew you wouldn't abandon me."
After mixing another drink for her friend, Sophie turned toward the crowd and raised her cup as if about to make a toast.
"To this year being more than just amazing—"
She turned her head toward Evelyn, waiting for her to join in.
"To this year being ours," Evelyn finished.
They clinked cups, hooked arms, exhaled sharply, and downed the contents in one go. Evelyn didn't even want to try smelling the hangover potion first.
The first gulp was a shock.
Her tongue went numb from the cold, then pulsed with scorching heat. As the cocktail slid down, it left behind a whole fireworks show of sensations, slowly igniting in her chest until colored sparks seemed to burst in every direction. Evelyn swallowed the last mouthful and dropped her hair across her face, trying to drown out the aftertaste with the scent of shampoo and perfume. Sophie coughed lightly, did the same, then tried to fan away the tears that sprang to her eyes.
"That tasted like industrial drain cleaner," she rasped.
"I know," Evelyn agreed. "So—another?"
After another cocktail each—this time something more ordinary—they joined the crowd. The bass bouncing off the narrow corridor walls made everything vibrate. It seemed to fill all the space inside and out, leaving no room for thought.
Evelyn drifted.
The floor no longer felt solid beneath her feet, as though she were dancing on clouds. Flashing lights sliced through the darkness, illuminating fragments of strangers' faces and only reminding the girls that other people were still around. Sophie's pale hair swirled with every turn of her head, her hands elegantly tracing the shape of her body. Evelyn danced differently, blending sensuality with a feeling of pure freedom. Her shoulders jerked rhythmically, her arms flying upward again and again as if trying to reach a higher cloud.
She closed her eyes and let the darkness take over completely.
For one second, she let herself forget about the crazy boy, Victoria, the ominous dream. All that existed was the thunder of music, the heat of bodies around her, and her best friend.
And it felt like they were capable of anything.
Sophie leaned in close and shouted into her ear,
"I need the bathroom."
"Okay, I'll get us drinks."
Pushing her way through the crowd, Evelyn discovered that someone was already standing behind the makeshift bar, leaning against the table. She recognized him immediately—the boy who had disrupted the ceremony that morning.
He took a short drink, flicked a brief glance her way, then looked away.
A knot of awkwardness formed in Evelyn's throat. She tugged her skirt a little lower and began pouring whiskey into two cups. The soda was farther away, closer to the stranger. She was just about to reach for it when he noticed her hesitation and handed her the bottle.
"Thanks," Evelyn said with an awkward smile.
He didn't answer.
She topped the drinks off with soda, then copied his pose.
"Marcus, right?" she remembered suddenly.
"Mm." He gave a short nod.
Evelyn had no idea how to continue from there. Truthfully, she was dying to know what exactly he had meant during the ceremony.
"My name's Evelyn," she said, offering her hand.
He shook it so weakly it seemed almost indifferent.
"I'm a first-year. I came here with my friend."
"Got it," he said, not even bothering to look at her. "Be careful, Evelyn."
A chill ran down her spine.
And all at once she remembered the words dream-Marcus had spoken. They don't measure time. They measure fates.
God, that's creepy, she thought.
Marcus's appearance only deepened the mystery. Pale skin, amber eyes, black hair with a long fringe, and a collection of jewelry etched with strange symbols gave him an almost unreal quality. No wonder that other boy had called him insane.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Marcus smirked.
There was something in the expression Evelyn couldn't read—something empty, yet somehow full of meaning at the same time. Then he turned toward her and smiled again, but this time it was different: softer. Caught off guard by the eye contact, Evelyn glanced away, almost shyly. Marcus bent down slightly and met her eyes again, forcing her to do the same.
"Didn't you hear what I said earlier?" he asked, still smiling.
She said nothing.
He straightened and shifted back, giving her a little more space. She let out a breath.
"I don't understand..."
He cut her off before she could finish.
"Not surprising. Nobody does. Or they pretend not to."
"You talk in riddles," Evelyn said, irritation creeping into her voice.
"And you don't want to solve them," he shot back.
"That's not why I came here."
"Then why did you come, hm?" Marcus turned to her again. The light in his wolfish eyes burned through her skin. "To hear answers? I'd give them to you, if I had them."
Evelyn didn't want to keep talking. She had already realized he wasn't going to say anything useful. For a moment, she was even frightened by the force of his intensity.
She counted the seconds until Sophie came back—but Sophie was taking her time.
That was when Evelyn spotted another familiar face.
The blond who had invited them to the party stood nearby with a group of friends. Evelyn shot him a look that practically screamed, SOS. He handed his drink to one friend, muttered something to another, and, to a chorus of approving hoots, headed toward the bar.
"Hey," he said with an insolent grin.
The moment Marcus heard his voice, he hurried off somewhere, shoulder-checking his rival on the way past. The blond didn't seem to care.
Evelyn let out a relieved breath.
"Thanks..." she said awkwardly.
He waved a hand as if to say, No big deal.
"I was starting to think you wouldn't come."
"That was almost the case. If Sophie hadn't dragged me here, I probably wouldn't have," Evelyn laughed.
The blond glanced around, looking for the missing second girl.
"So where is she?"
"Bathroom. Though she's probably already hooked up with someone and is making out in one of the rooms."
He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth dramatically.
"Damn. I was hoping to be first on her list."
Then his gaze slid over Evelyn's body, assessing.
"But you'll do too. I'm Kyle, by the way."
You want to play? Fine. Two can play that game, she thought.
"Actually, some group of hot athletes already invited me over. Probably your friends? Maybe next time."
Kyle snorted, then burst into loud, genuine laughter. He clearly hadn't expected anyone to use his own weapon against him—and with such ease.
"Oh my God. Wait, wait."
He wiped away an imaginary tear with his finger.
"I already got that you're not shy. You're the kind a guy has to watch out for."
"Yes," Evelyn said with a firm nod.
For a moment, she thought the smug idiot actually looked a little flustered.
"You never told me your name," he continued.
"Evelyn."
"Evelyn," Kyle repeated. "Why were you even talking to our local lunatic?"
"I don't know." She shrugged. "I wanted to see if he really was crazy."
"And?"
"Can't you tell?"
Kyle smiled.
"Want to get some air? I can take you up to the roof."
She really did want air. After dancing, and after that awkward—at times outright unsettling—conversation with Marcus, fresh air sounded perfect.
"I'm actually waiting for my friend."
"You're going to wait until she's done making out?"
Kyle's jab did exactly what it was meant to do, and Evelyn gave in.
The door shut behind them, and the deafening bass turned into a living, pulsing throb. From the dorm roof, it was easy to see the campus wrapped in silvery mist that spilled across the grounds in a ghostly glow, with the black, silent shapes of trees beneath it like twisted, skeletal fingers.
The drunken haze began to lift. After the suffocating heat of the party, the icy air sobered her, stinging her flushed cheeks. Evelyn stepped up to the parapet. Kyle moved beside her, close enough for the warmth of his body to reach her. She could smell the woody trace of whiskey on him.
She turned slightly and studied him.
Strangely, Kyle seemed both part of the landscape and something apart from it—foreign. As though two people somehow lived inside him at once: one arrogant, born of money and elite circles, the other quieter, less certain, calmer. In the dim moonlight, his gray eyes held a kind of thoughtfulness Evelyn hadn't seen on his face before. His thick straight brows, lifted just slightly, softened a face that was fine-boned yet not without a certain roughness.
He wasn't perfect.
And yet, here and now, he looked exactly that way to her.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Kyle noticed the way she was looking at him, though he wasn't talking about himself.
"Oh, please," Evelyn shot back.
"I meant the moon." He glanced first at her, then up at the sky. Evelyn turned and looked up too.
"You think I'm going to fall for talk about the moon, the night sky, and all that?" she laughed. "How many girls has that worked on?"
Kyle scratched the back of his head and looked away. Even in the weak light, she could see the crease forming in his forehead as he seemed to estimate the number.
"Let me think... according to my calculations, you might be the first."
"Then you'll have to try harder."
And then came that moment.
That awkward silence when neither person knows what to say.
They both just stood there, looking at the moon.
"I was serious, actually. I like looking at the sky," Kyle said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Especially here... I don't know how to explain it, but here it feels..."
"Different?" Evelyn finished for him. "Yeah. I think I know what you mean..." She looked at him carefully. "So that's what it's like."
Kyle shifted his gaze from the sky to her, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
"What is?"
"You know. The soft side of a stubborn asshole. The one hiding behind all the jokes."
Kyle slapped one palm against the other so loudly that birds sleeping nearby burst into the air in a flurry of startled chirps.
"Caught! Exposed! You saw right through me!" he joked.
The smug grin slid back into place. Evelyn understood she had hit a nerve and chose not to push it. It was enough to know that his whole image was just a mask—and one that could be taken off.
"Beautiful," she said.
Kyle frowned, confused.
"The moon is beautiful," Evelyn clarified.
This time, his smile was genuine.
Then the clock struck, breaking the night's stillness and making Evelyn flinch.
One chime. Then another. And another.
Kyle was saying something to her with a smile, staring out into the distance, but his words drowned beneath the frantic cries of disturbed birds. Black shapes blotted out the dim glow of the sky. Memory drove itself back into Evelyn's mind like a dart into a board.
The dream.
The mirrors.
The clock.
The hand pointing to midnight, the symbols...
Her own face twisted with horror, blood on the wall.
Cold flooded her body.
"Sophie..." she breathed.
"What? Are you all—" Kyle started, but she had already recoiled in terror.
Evelyn didn't run—some unknown force hurled her off the roof, down the stairs as if she'd been swept away by an avalanche. The bass thudding below no longer sounded like drunken students having fun, but like something sinister providing cover.
Her heart hammered first in her throat, then in her skull. The air had thickened so much she could barely breathe.
Find her. Find her now.
She tore through the corridors, grabbing one stranger after another by the arm.
"Have you seen a girl? Blonde, black dress, green purse?"
But no one could tell her anything useful.
The bathroom, Evelyn remembered suddenly.
But it was empty. No one there.
Only one last hope remained. Maybe Sophie had felt sick. Maybe she'd gone back to her room. Maybe—
Evelyn shoved through the crowd, ignoring the irritated shouts behind her. Soon she was racing down the now-familiar corridor with the red walls.
Only one light was still working.
It flickered overhead with an uneven buzz.
All the others had been smashed, and shards of glass crunched beneath her feet with brutal clarity. In the dim light, the floor looked dirty and wet, as though something had been spilled all over it. And where the flickering bulb cast its glow, dark red puddles gleamed. Crimson handprints stood out clearly on the walls, as if someone had dragged a bloodied palm along them on purpose.
At the end of the corridor, a figure hung suspended near the ceiling.
Evelyn squinted, refusing to accept what she was seeing.
"Sophie..." she rasped.
The body turned slowly.
She was not prepared.
What hung there was not just a lifeless corpse, but something that still moved. Empty eye sockets stared straight into her soul. And her mouth—always smiling—was smiling now too, slit from ear to ear and crudely stitched shut with black thread.
Evelyn stumbled back and pressed herself against the wall to keep from collapsing. Sliding slowly downward, she stared at her friend in horror.
"Sophie," as if trying to say something, only lifted one finger and pointed at the wall beside her.
In animal terror, Evelyn turned her head.
There, above the green velvet purse, written in blood, were the words:
Welcome to Blackcroft.