Campus of Secrets

Lila pov "Ravenwood will fix you, or bury you, either way, you're their problem now." My adoptive mother's voice cuts through the fog in my head and I don't bother opening my eyes. The back seat of her Mercedes smells like expensive leather and her Chanel perfume, the combination makes my stomach turn. I press my forehead against the cold window and try not to think about how six months ago she actually liked me. "Linda, that's enough," my father says from the driver's seat. "Is it though?" Her voice gets sharper, "We gave her everything, a home, opportunities, a platform, and she threw it all away for what, drugs and attention?" I bite down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood, there's no point defending myself anymore, nobody believes me when I say I don't remember that night, nobody cares that the video doesn't make sense, that the angle was wrong, that my own sister was the one holding the camera. The car jerks to a stop. "We're here," my father announces. I force my eyes open and immediately wish I hadn't, Ravenwood University looks like something out of a horror movie. All Gothic spires and gray stone rising out of fog so thick I can barely see ten feet ahead, dense forest presses in from every side like the trees are trying to swallow the buildings whole, this is supposed to be my fresh start my second chance, but it looks more like a prison. "Out," my mother says without turning around. I grab my backpack and shoulder the door open, cold October air hits my face and I reach for my suitcases but my father has already popped the trunk. He sets them on the curb without looking at me,or saying goodbye, and I'm standing there watching their car disappear into the fog like l'm something they needed to dispose of quickly. "That's her, oh my god, that's actually her." I turn and see two girls standing near the entrance, both have their phones out and pointed at me. The shorter one with blonde highlights nudges her friend and they both start whispering, I pull my hood up and grab my suitcase handle but the wheel catches on a c***k and I almost face plant right there in front of them. Perfect, exactly how I wanted to make my entrance at a new school. "Lila Hart?" A woman in a navy Ravenwood polo appears beside me holding an iPad like a shield, her smile is professional and doesn't reach her eyes. She's maybe thirty with her hair pulled back so tight it probably hurts. "I'm Sarah from student services, welcome to Ravenwood, let me help you get settled." "I can manage," I say but she's already taking off toward a path that leads away from the main campus. I follow her past buildings that actually look nice, old brick covered in ivy with students lounging on the steps looking like they belong in a college brochure. They're laughing and talking and living normal lives, none of them spare me a glance because why would they, l'm headed in the opposite direction toward a squat ugly building that looks like it was built in the seventies and forgotten about. "East Wing houses our special circumstances students," Sarah says in that take cheertul voice. "You'll find it's a very supportive community here." "Special circumstances," I repeat, "Is that code for screw ups and charity cases?" Her smile tightens, "It's code for students who need a more intimate living environment." We pass another group and one of them gasps out loud. When she recognizes me, her phone is up and recording within seconds and I feel that familiar heat crawling up my neck, six months ago I had 200,000 i********: followers, brand deals with three major fashion companies, acceptance letters from schools that actually mattered, now I'm the girl from that video, the cautionary tale, the train wreck everyone loves to watch. The memory tries to surface, Ava standing in the doorway with her phone pointed at me, the flash of the camera, my dress riding up in ways I never would have allowed, but everything before that moment is just darkness and the sick feeling I woke up with. "Here we are," Sarah stops in front of East Wing and even the sign is depressing, the E is hanging sideways like nobody cares enough to fix it. "Room 3B, second floor, your roommates should be there to help you get oriented." She hands me a key card and walks away before I can ask any questions. I drag my suitcases up stairs that smell like old carpet and industrial cleaner, find 3B at the end of a dim hallway and knock twice, there's shuffling inside and then the door swings open. A girl with a camera in her face greets me. "Oh perfect timing," she says zooming in on me before I can react, "I'm Cassie Monroe, you must be the infamous Lila Hart, come in come in, this is amazing footage." "Can you not?" I push past her into the room. It's bigger than I expected but that's not saying much, four beds are crammed against the walls with barely enough space to walk between them. One bed is covered in camera equipment and lighting gear, another has pencil sketches taped to the wall above it, the third is empty except for a book on the pillow, the fourth bed in the corner has nothing but an envelope sitting on the bare mattress. "That one's yours," Cassie points with her free hand, still filming. "I'm a film major doing a documentary on East Wing life, you signed a waiver when you enrolled so technically I can film common areas, hope that's cool." "It's not," I drop my backpack on the bed and stare at the envelope. "Noted," she lowers the camera slightly but I notice she doesn't turn it off. "The girl with the sketches is Mira Chen, she's at class right now, barely talks but she's cool, bed number four is still unclaimed so we might luck out and get a triple." Cassie keeps talking but l'm not listening anymore, I'm staring at that envelope like it might bite me. There's no name on it, just a small symbol embossed in the corner that looks like a circle with an arrow through it, something about it makes my hands shake. "You okay?" Cassie asks, "You look like you're gonna pass out." "I'm fine." I'm not fine, I grab the envelope and tear it open, inside is a single photograph and my heart stops. It's me from that night six months ago, sprawled on a bed I don't remember, eyes unfocused, dress riding up, completely vulnerable and exposed, but that's not what freezes me in place. The angle is all wrong. Ava filmed the video from the doorway, I remember that much, her silhouette backlit by the hallway light, but this photo was taken from inside the room, from directly above me, like someone was standing over the bed while I was unconscious. "What is it?" Cassie moves closer, camera forgotten for once. I flip the photo over with trembling fingers, there's writing on the back in neat block letters: Welcome home, Lila, we’ve been waiting. "Nothing," I shove it under my pillow, "Just welcome stuff." But my eyes are already scanning the walls and my blood turns to ice, burgundy wallpaper with gold damask pattern, every swirl and flourish identical to the wallpaper in the photo, exactly the same. I turned around looking at the wall behind my bed then back at the photo, they match perfectly, down to a small tear near the baseboard. "You sure you're okay?" Cassie asks, "Because you look terrified." I am terrified because l've never been to Ravenwood before, l've never even heard of this place until two weeks ago when my parents told me I was being sent here, so why does this room feel like a crime scene l've already visited? Why does someone think I'm coming home.