Alone at Last

The college dormitory is supposed to be a safe haven from the pressures of schoolwork, a place to retire after a long day and sleep until the sun comes up. Upon moving in on the first of September, I found it difficult to call the white walled room ‘home,’ but it served its purpose. Farnham Hall was built around thirty years ago, and while the other two residence halls on campus are the traditional layout, Farnham had suites. Each suite contained two bedrooms, each housing two girls, a common room with a countertop and sink, and a private bathroom. I felt lucky to make it into Farnham. 

On the first of September, the day I moved in for freshman year, my parents helped haul my things up to the third floor, then said goodbye and left me in room 303B. I wasn’t really alone, though. My roommate and my two suitemates had already moved in the day before. My roommate had been perched on her desk chair, watching me move in, but the moment the door shut behind my parents, she stood up to introduce herself. “Debra Blanchard,” she said, holding her nose high. “I’m here to study accounting. What are you here for?” She narrowed her eyes, as if questioning my entire existence.

“Linguistics,” I replied shyly. I turned my back to her and set to unpacking my things.

“Hm.” Debra retrieved a notebook from her school bag. “I think we should make a few rules. Number one: no parties, no guests, and no coming in after midnight. If I’m asleep, I don’t want you making noise.”

“I don’t plan on throwing any parties,” I said as I opened the door to my small closet. “How about we don’t touch each other’s things, if one of us is doing something that bothers the other, politely ask to stop, and lights out at ten?” She seemed surprised at my suggestions, but wrote them down anyway.

A knock on the open door startled both of us. The two girls in the other room, our suitemates, had come to introduce themselves. “Hi! So happy  to finally meet you!” one said. She brushed her long hair behind her shoulders and entered my room. I watched her eyes flit in all directions, taking in my belongings. “I’m Shannon Spear, education and psychology.” She clasped her hands together, bearing an unnaturally large grin. 

The other finally stepped through the doorway. “Michelle,” she said, nodding her head in my direction.

“Michelle and I met over the summer. We’re both on the volleyball team, and Debbie does tennis. What team are you on? Everyone else on the floor is on a team. Isn’t college fun?”

I stared blankly at her, desperate to finish unpacking and investigate the cafeteria.  “I did pole vaulting in high school, but the track and field program here is all track and no field.” 

Shannon mumbled something and looked away and Michelle smiled for the first time. “My sister does track and field,” she said.

“Really? What event?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Michelle said with a laugh. “My sister’s weird.”

As the four of us stood in my and Debra’s room, an awkward moment of silence passed. “I guess we should let you unpack,” Shannon finally said. She spun on her heel and dragged Michelle to their room ten feet away.

I glanced at Debra, resuming my unpacking, racking my brain for something to ask her. I came up with only one thing: “Where are you from?”

“Illinois,” she replied vaguely. “I’m getting lunch.” Slipping on her shoes, she grabbed her keys from her desk and left quickly, slamming the door behind her. I winced at the sound of the door and pulled myself onto the foot of my lofted bed. Hugging my pillow to my chest, I already felt that college would be the biggest obstacle of my life. I’d been there ten minutes, but I already felt homesick.

The early weeks of my first semester flew by. The classes were all introductory, so the homework was a breeze, and I stayed out until half past nine every night, reading in a secret nook of the library where no one ever passed by. I stayed out late to avoid Debra, who seemed to quietly detest my very presence. I’d learned after a few days that my life was easier if I simply stayed away. I barely saw Shannon and Michelle. Anytime I happened to pass by them on the small campus I smiled and waved, but they only ever laughed.

On the weekends, however, it was hard to stay away from the dorm. Without much school work to get done, I was left to wander the campus in boredom. Irwin College was settled in a secluded cove just outside the town of Frost. The main drag, lined with shops, cafes, and restaurants, was only a ten minute walk away, but I had hardly any money to spend. Instead, I ventured every Saturday morning to the park across from Frost Elementary School. Settling at a picnic table with a book or my journal, I sat beneath a large oak tree, a place I could focus. Sometimes the children running about on the playground distracted me, but the soft wind rustling the pages always forced my attention back to my work. I spent every Saturday in the park and every Sunday wherever I could find something to do. As long as I wasn’t in Farnham Hall, I was happy. I always enjoyed a visit to the park, but the weather quickly turned cold, and the biting breeze became too harsh for my bare hands to hold a pencil. 

In lieu of the park, I found a deserted spot at the rear of the Ripley Building. That spot became mine and mine only. I did all of my homework there and spent entire weekends in the secluded corner. Nestled into an armchair that I pulled up to a table, I watched the first snowflakes fall on the final day of October. In the margin of my journal, I calculated that 25 days remained until my parents would arrive to bring me home for Thanksgiving. I could hardly wait. 

That day was Halloween. Watching the flurries fall against the trees and the dark sky, my stomach growled and I checked my watch. I hadn’t eaten since lunch. 

The cafeteria served pumpkin pie that night. Arriving at the mess hall at seven, most of the food had been picked through, but the pie remained. I took two pieces and a small serving of grilled chicken to a table at the back. I returned to the Ripley Building after dinner, where I read my book until half past nine. The sky was pitch black but the yellow street lights guided me across the empty campus to Farnham Hall. 

I expected Debra to be studying at her desk, where I found her every Friday night. To my surprise, when I entered suite 303, the light in the common room was off, save a small night light beside the sofa. No light came from under the doors to 303A or 303B. A chill went up my spine and a smile spread across my face. The stars had aligned in my favor. In a syzygy of infinitesimal odds, Shannon, Michelle, and Debra had all returned home for the weekend. Without turning on the light, I felt for my key and guided it into the lock. 

My room was silent, empty, dark … and frightening. Realizing I had my back to the common room, I quickly felt for the light switch and shut myself inside my room. There was no knowing when this might happen again, if ever, and I needed to savor it. Dropping my backpack and kicking off my shoes, I practically leaped into bed, thinking of all the things I could do. Without Debra to police my noise levels, I could stay up as late as I wanted. I couldn’t help but giggle giddily. 

When it came to my writing, the creativity flowed better at night. At home I liked sitting at my desk with only a small lamp on, writing into the early hours of the morning. For the first time since I arrived, I turned on the small lamp on my desk and flipped off the overhead light. Leaning back in my chair, I took in the dim light I loved and pondered what to write about. 

I sat there, staring at the objects in the room, for a good fifteen minutes before a sudden rumbling in my stomach took me by surprise. With all the time in the world, I sauntered into the common room and examined my collection of snacks. I still had an unopened box of cereal. I didn’t have any milk, but I still poured some into a bowl and grabbed a spoon. Leaning against the cabinet, I took the first bite, staring at Adkins Hall across the way and wondering if anyone was staring back.

“Sylvia.”

Startled by the whisper in my ear, I nearly dropped my bowl. I looked, wide eyed, around the room, searching for the source. The sound of my name was so clear, but I stood in the dark common room alone, the only person in all of 303.

“Who said that?” I called quietly. Goosebumps raised on my arms and I bolted for the safety of my room. Resting against the closed door, a startling realization dawned upon me. In the two months since arriving at Irwin College, I had spent most of my time studying in solitude, yet this was my first time in suite 303 without the presence of another human hanging over me. Drawing a deep breath, I sat at my desk and returned to my work in silence. 

I got so caught up in penning a short story that when I finally looked at my alarm clock, midnight had come and gone. Flipping through the pages of my journal, I counted how much I had written. In two hours I wrote ten pages of a spooky story about a witch in a cottage. More accurately — after reading the first few sentences — in two hours I wrote a whole lot of nothing. I shut my journal and turned off my lamp, plunging the room into the kind of darkness usually reserved for the woods. Perhaps it was time to go to bed. 

I changed into my pajamas in the darkness, making a game out of feeling around in the dark, testing my knowledge of the room’s layout. Once dressed, I let go of my furniture and slowly glided towards the door. I held one hand in front of me, groping the abyss to find the doorknob. There was a thud as my hand finally hit the knob and I opened the door to emerge into the common room. The faint glow of Shannon’s night light beside the sofa guided me as my socks slid across the linoleum floor to the bathroom. 

Flicking on the blinding light, I shut the door behind me. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. I did a little twirl, crouched down to retrieve my toothbrush from the cabinet, and grinned as I popped back up in front of the mirror. I brushed my teeth, went to the bathroom, and combed my hair, as I did every night, then I opened the door. 

The light in the bathroom was obnoxiously bright, but the darkness coming from 303B swallowed it, and the five feet between the bathroom and the bedroom doors suddenly stretched a mile. Most of the common room was obscured from my sight. I didn’t know what hid over there. I didn’t know what hid in my bedroom. The beds were lofted four feet from the ground. I could just make out my bed and the boxes underneath it, but anything could be under Debra’s bed. 

I had been standing in the doorway of the bathroom, one hand on the light switch, for a few minutes at least. My lips were parted slightly and a cool breeze brushed past my face. I shivered and the hairs on the back of my neck told on end. I knew for a fact that the window was closed. I needed to get to bed, but I couldn’t get to bed without passing through the common room, the same room that whispered my name a few hours ago. I shivered again, and a twitch of my arm shut off the bathroom light. 

I gasped, and immediately I felt fingers on my back, walking slowly up my spine. I needed to move, but my feet were rooted to the tile. I couldn’t take my eyes off the silhouette of my bed, the last safe place. With one hand still on the light switch I could have brought the light back, but I didn’t want to see whatever stood behind me. Its fingers were practically to my neck. 

“Sylvia.” 

I took off. I ran into my room, making sure the door shut behind me, and leapt onto my bed. Burying myself in my blankets, I pushed my back against the cold wall and stared at the door, catching my breath. My eyes adjusted to the total darkness and all I heard was the sound of my own breathing. My heart rate slowed, but I didn’t dare to move. I kept my concentration on the door, but as the objects in the room came into focus, I was horrified to realize I neglected one important detail. Even in the darkness, I could see the button on the knob had not been pushed in. I forgot to lock the door. Whatever lurked in Farnham Hall could still reach me.