The Dark: Chapter Two

"Don't look at me. Just don’t look at me. Just look right through me like you always do. Get someone else to answer your stupid question."
But she does look at you. Her gaze piercing like she can see right into the depths of your soul. You sink lower into your seat.
"How about you," she says. gazes down at her class register. After a moment, however, she frowns, she cant seem to match your face with a name.
With a dismissive wave of her hand she gives up.
"You, sitting behind Miss Tanner. Would you like to give us an explanation for this phenomenon?"
Several heads swivel in your direction. Your face starts to feel hot. Your mouth suddenly dry.
The entire hall is suddenly quiet. everyone is waiting for you to answer. To hear what the class weirdo has to say.
You mutter your answer. The hall is so quiet that it carries easily.
"No? You don’t even want to try?"
You catch a few people snickering. Not openly but one of those hand over mouth numbers. Beads of sweat pop up on your forehead like a rash of pimples.
Dr. Stevens seems rather amused.
"What's your name?" She asks. Crosses her arms in fashion that let's you know that the lecture was not going anywhere until you answered her question.
There are more snickers. These ones more open. you are turning into a freak show.
Dr. Stevens holds up a hand. Tells them to let you answer.
Trying your best to ignore the snickering and the sweat running down your back, you manage to.
Opening a file, Dr. Stevens begins to rummage through some papers. After a moment she finds what she is looking for and straightens up. She reads out your name and then a percentage: %93. Your paper was the most impressive she had read in years. Which, to her, seems quite odd seeing as you have just been placed on academic probation. You did write this paper, didn’t you?
She waits for a few moments but then realizing that you’re not going to give her a forthright answer, Dr. Stevens flips through the term paper. Finding the place that she's interested in, she begins to read from it. first one paragraph, then another. She doesn’t stop until she reaches the bottom of the page.
"I couldn’t have written it better myself." She says looking up from the paper. And according to her, you have already answered her question. And then some.
The queer looks you are getting make you sink even further into your seat.
Dr. Stevens gives the paper to someone in the front row. Tells them to pass it to you. She wants to see you once the lecture is over.
You glance at your watch. That was in about half an hour.
When the paper finally lands on your desk it is fairly crumpled and a number of cruel comments have been scribbled in the margins by the people whose hands it has passed through.
You peer at it. The hand writing is definitely yours but you have no recollection what so ever of writing it.
Catching the person sitting next to you peering over your shoulder in an attempt to look at your paper, you crumple it into a ball and let it fall to the floor.
The paper scares you.
Because, to you, the paper asks more questions than it answers.
One thing was for certain, however, he was becoming stronger. Bolder. There was no way to control him.
You think of what he did to Jason. No, what you did to Jason.
You have to stop it, you realize. But to do that you have to go back to the beginning. To where it all began. And that's what scares you more than anything. Even more than knowing what it is capable of. Because when all is said and done, going back will only lead you to one place. To the place where you would have to come face to face with your worst enemy, your worst fear...yourself.