Tora (The Tora Trilogy Book 1) (3 page)

Eva shrugged. The therapist was already off in her own tangent. That’s what all therapists did. They tried to pin everything down to a root cause. She seemed to think that her parents deaths had caused all of this. But that had happened years ago, when she was too young to have any kind of emotional attachment to them. In fact, she barely even thought about them. It sounded cruel, but it was true. Was she supposed to dwell over it and let it possess her life? Yet, she’d somehow led her to thinking it was some kind of tragedy. The therapist had drawn her own conclusions that trauma would lead to mental illness.
Where did that come from?

She looked towards the door, wishing it was open to let some fresh air into the room. The office suddenly felt like a cage, a shell, like how she felt trapped into her own thoughts. An airless, oppressive bubble.

“Eva, I forgot to ask if you’d like a drink.” Dr Smith offered. “I have some fresh lemonade for you or there’s some water over there. There’s a pitcher by the sink.”

“No thanks.” Eva just desperately wanted to get out of this room. Breathe some fresh air again. Gain control over her freedom.

“Now Eva, could you describe to me these shadows that you’re seeing.” The woman leaned in, clearly interested in the reality Eva yearned to escape.

Eva thought back to how many times she’d heard that phrase. She’d had more therapists then she could remember. Michelle had hated the last therapist, with hair died defiant red, who had dosed out numbness in pills. They were all mostly the same. Her life had been mainly ruled by female doctors that couldn’t tailor their therapeutic techniques to benefit Eva and who misunderstood her life. A lot of them had jumped to the assumption that she was a ‘troubled girl’ as soon as they saw that her parents were classed as ‘deceased’ on her file. It wasn’t like she’d had
no
parents. She hadn’t been shifting between foster homes. She’d had Michelle all her life. She was stubborn, admittedly, but every other week of the first ten years of her life she’d been dragged to useless sessions that gave her a headache.

“Alright.” Eva paused. She closed her eyes and tried to visualise them. “They’re dark. They twist into different shapes. Sometimes they grab you, latch on to you, trying to take you. More recently, they have become harder to defend. Eva opened her eyes.

Dr Smith’s forehead creased as she absorbed the information. She scratched her forehead and frowned. Her lips were pursed. She clicked her pen.

“Eva.” She set her notepad down and lowered her spectacles over her eyes. “It sounds to me as though you are suffering from a combination of illnesses.” She put her spectacles back on and reached for a book on the shelf called ‘Mental Illness A-Z.’ She flipped the banded book open to a folded page and her fingers traced the words.

“No.” Eva put her foot down. “You don’t understand.” Eva interrupted. “I’m
not
imagining this. They’re
real.
I can feel their touch. Eva said, exasperated. She felt as though she was the accused, trying to defend her innocence in a court trial.

The woman gave her a look as though she dealing with a psychotic patient. Eva blushed and lowered her eyes. Sitting in this room with a patronising woman made her feel helpless, stupid and isolated. She suddenly felt annoyed that the woman couldn’t see them too.

“Please listen Eva.” She said, ignoring her plea, setting her notepad down. “You’ve only got an hour with me, so I suggest you make the most of it.”

“40 minutes –”

Eva sighed and sank back into the couch. This was hopeless. Why was she sitting here with a therapist who disputed the reality of shadows and treated her like some psyche-path.

“Ok. Now, I believe you have a combination of paranoia, depression and anxiety, which is why you are seeing these shadows.” She explained in a clinical tone. “Now, tell me how you
feel
when you see these shadows?”

Eva tried to push past her negative thoughts to the recesses of her mind. How did Eva feel? She’d become pretty well adapted to it. But there was the odd occasion that had been laced with fear. Increasingly of late, her experience with the shadows had – changed. She’d begun to feel more vulnerable, than – she’d
ever
been.

Her head began to throb. She rubbed her temples, which had become more of a habit lately, when she thought about them.

“Do I have to?”

“I’d love to hear you put it into words.”

She stared at the ceiling as if it would paint her a clue.

“Um….Jittery, nervous….” Her stomach did a flip.

“Good.” Dr Smith meant:
Finally
. She rubbed her hands together and drew out a long breath. Eva was relieved that this would be her last therapy session for a while. But she missed her friend Thea. She remembered the wildly mixed emotions on Thea’s face when she’d told her she was leaving the squad tennis team and school altogether.

Eva was bored. She imagined a stylish limousine escorting her to therapy. She imagined all the things she would be missing out on back at Margate. She’d be missing weekly late Friday night soaps and horror movie sessions, wild parties and her graduation prom. Thea would be painting her nails lacquer pink in French besides an empty desk, her eyes pouring over the latest vogue mag and she’d be fanning herself in the malodourous tech classroom.

Everyone had been raving about what a good year that was to follow, but Eva couldn’t think of one thing to look forward to.

A noise caused Eva to jerk her head away automatically. She looked past the woman, carefully to the door behind her. Her migraine freshened up, thrummed painfully at her temples. Then she’d caught a whiff of something that smelled like sour lemons.

Then she saw them. Struggling to seep through the cracks of the door. The shadows. They lingered there, and Eva could see heat waves rising off the door and pressure building. If the door suddenly flung open, she’d have a lot of explaining to do. Eva took in a long jagged breath and tried to calm her nerves. Her stomach was clenched and she felt her feet slowly rising off the chair in anticipation of it all. Eva’s eyes burned. She strained them, hoping her eyes would have enough strength to clear them away – for now. And as prompt as they’d appeared, they dispersed, like dissipating clouds. And the smell, her migraine, the heavy head feeling she’d experienced had fled at the same time.

The woman was flitting from files and appeared as though she hadn’t heard the noise Eva had.

“I know you might be feeling the world is a difficult place.” She said, noting Eva’s hard expression as she looked up. Her feet slipped in and out of her taupe leather slip ons.

“It’s not easy to lose your parents at such a young age.” She pressed on.

The woman fixed on the word
lose,
as if she’d been lost in the crowd and they’d soon reunite. She noted the emphasis placed on the words. They came out sounding harsh. Was this woman trying to mess with her feelings when she already had enough on her plate? Trying to stir up her emotions? Based on Eva’s first impressions, she’d rubbed off as being shallow and ignorant. And she was only digging a deeper hole for herself.

Eva rolled her eyes, annoyed, suddenly not caring what she thought of her, but hoping that she’d notice how awkward this conversation was.

Dr. Smith sighed. She bent forward in a conservative manner.

“Eva, you’re making no effort to connect with me. I’d like you to get something out of this.” She whispered in a low voice even though no one else was in the room. She paused briefly considering something more motivating. “Your mother’s very worried.” She added.

“Put your shoes back on doc.”

There was nothing for Eva to get out of this. She was sick of strangers telling her how to act. She didn’t need someone on standby waiting for something bad to happen.

Eva rose from the couch and grabbed her duffel bag.

“I’ve gotta run.”

Run from this session. Sort her life out. Make a new start.

“See you Tuesday?”

But by that time, Dr Smith was talking to a closed door.

Three

~†~

Eva glanced over her shoulder for the last time. Michelle was doing her best to remain stoic, but her brown eyes were moist. It was hard for Eva to leave. Not because she’d be homesick, missing her best friend Thea, school or busy Boca Raton. She didn’t want to leave Michelle, her mother, behind. “It’s only for a year pumpkin.” She’d said, shrugging it off. “You have your whole life ahead of you. You won’t even want to come back.” She assured. But a year was
too long
for Eva. She’d miss a year of her life that she was meant to be having fun at home with family and friends.
How would she survive a day here? Let alone a year?
The thought of that was daunting. Thea would probably find new friends and forget she’d even been gone by the time she got back. Would Margate just forget that she’d left altogether? How would Michelle cope having nothing to do? All these questions whirled in her head all at once. And she wished she knew the answers.

Imposing iron gates marked the entrance. Eva wandered towards them. The clouds swirled overhead casting shadows around her. Everything was deathly silent apart from the crows that hung over the trees. Eva turned her back. There was no one around. She gripped the straps of her bag around her shoulders. The gates were dull, encrusted silver chipped bearing grey frame. She stopped once she’d reached the gates and squinted her eyes at the sign written in goofy bold lettering. Coome Bank Academy. She drew in a slow breath. She pressed the intercom buzzer, and following a few moments of silence, the gate suddenly flew open.

At first stretch, the campus looked about a hundred years old. Signs of age were marked by the rusty antique windows of worn buildings in the distance. Old autumn leaves crunched beneath her tennis shoes as she made her way across the campus. She shivered. Frost bit her fingers and the hairs on her arms began to stand on end. Autumn in Gracor suddenly felt like winter in Boca Raton.

Michelle had told her to watch out for the main office, but all the buildings looked the same. The buildings were grey and boring and on a day as gloomy as this, they blended into their surroundings.

The clouds were sewn into the sky like a group of people huddled together. Was the weather always like this?

“New girl.” Eva jumped as a hand gripped her shoulder blade. “Office. That way.” 

The girl steered her towards a tiny stone building hidden behind a wall of trees and overgrown plants. Even the roof was embedded in moss. She was a Goth caked in pale makeup, a heavy dose of eyeliner, piercings covering a large portion of her face around her ears, nose and mouth with a baseball cap pulled over her eyes.

“Thank you.” Eva said to no one in particular for the girl had disappeared as quickly as she’d surfaced.

She arrived at the steps of the building at a door with no handle. A door with no handle? Where was the office sign? The exterior was covered in cob webs. Well that wasn’t exactly
welcoming
.

Walking slowly up the four steps, she realised how dilapidated the reception was, because the steps creaked with every step.

Eva pushed open the door to the dark wood panelled office and looked around. Some fowl smelling stuffed crows had their wings fanned out on the walls and two waiting chairs with knobbly legs were squashed together in the corner. There were no modern furnishings or ceiling lights, but small dim lamps were placed (positioned) around the room. The floor boards creaked under her feet. She couldn’t hear anything apart from her own two feet carrying herself through the stuffy room that reeked of mothballs. Her heart thrummed beneath her chest. This room was giving off an eerie vibe that made Eva shiver. Nostalgia was hitting home.

“Is anyone here?” Eva asked.

After no reply, Eva (wondered) walked over to the counter and stared at the hideous collection of ornaments and the business cards that looked as though they’d been sitting there for years. A vase of flowers stood in misery, exhibiting a dead stalk and some shrivelled up brown aged petals. The desk was layered in a film of dust and the smell of the old varnished table was pungent. Had anyone ventured towards this office recently? She wondered.

“Sorry about the wait.”

A grungy man bobbed his head up from below the counter catching Eva by surprise. He was a tall and thin man with a beard, small glasses and dishevelled hair that made him look like a wacky scientist. The first image that popped into her head was Albert Einstein. He almost looked identical, but without the grey hair, about the only thing she’d remembered from science class.

Eva smiled nervously and crossed her arms over her chest.

“This way.” He escorted her out of the office that reeked odour, towards what looked like a school courtyard, swiftly handing her over to the barrel chested attendant with the ruddy cheeks and a clipboard tucked under her arm.

“Eva? Am I right?” she asked.

She nodded.

“Three things to remember.” She barked.

“Tim’in. Bedd’in. Reds.”

“Tim’ in. Be on time for classes, meals bedtime.”

“Bedd’ in. Keep your dorm in a respectable condition and set up your bed.

“And Reds,” she said pointing towards a small wired device attached to the ceiling above them. Eva hadn’t seen them before, but after the attendant had pointed out the first one, she realised they were everywhere. She sighed. “If there’s nothing to stop your from misbehavin’, our security cams are
always
watching you. “You’ll see one everywhere you go, so I suggest you stay out of trouble. Don’t screw up – that’s if you can help yourself.”

The place was monitored like a prison. All the buildings near Eva had at least one wired monitoring device on each with a red light flashing. The thought that someone might be watching her right now getting to grips with this ghost town gave her the creeps and left her feeling a little edgy. The first thing Eva had picked up about Combe Bank Academy so far, was that privacy wasn’t a freedom right here.

“Hmm? You got that hun?” The attendant said quickly.

She’d spoken so frantically, that Eva didn’t catch all of what she’d said. There was so much to take in.

Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed.

The woman clucked her tongue.

“Um. Yes.” She said tentatively. Her stomach heaved with the load. The woman pursed her lips as though she hadn’t heard her. “Got it.”

Eva looked around, bewildered and embarrassed by the place she’d found herself in. She felt closed in, trapped in a school that she’d never felt less comfortable, by the large fences that warped around its borders. She squinted. And was that barbed wire at the top? Everything seemed purposefully intimidating. She noticed all the windows on a musty grey clad building, over the far side of the commons, were covered in a shadow of blackness. When Eva leaned in to get a closer look, she realised they were all barred. Somehow she came under the impression that there was a hell of a lot of mistrust going on. Why else would they bar the windows? The last place Eva remembered seeing them, was when she attended pre-school on the second level of a converted city office building. This place looked more like an immigration detention centre than a school. Surely Michelle hadn’t realised when she signed her up to the contract how strict and gloomy this place was? Right?  Or had she known all along? The longer Eva pondered about it, the more she doubted it.

The attendant clicked her pen and her beady eyes scrolled down the file attached to a cork clipboard. “Your dorm room is number 52 and here’s your key,” she said, shoving a scrap piece of paper and the keys into her hands.

The attendant turned to Eva. Her face was craggy with wrinkles and crease lines folded into her forehead. She wore a black studded necklace cinching her neck that looked to Eva like a dog’s collar. A black knee low cut dress seized her curvy figure. Her weathered long hair falling down to her waist wore a multitude of colour, the most Eva had seen since she’d left Boca Raton.

“I think I’ve told you enough now what is expected of you.” She said, but moments later retracted her statement.

“One more important rule that MUST be abided by, is there is NO hovering or dawdling around out of bounds areas, NO graffiti, NO phones in class, one call a week to parents or friends – now that’s ONE call only.” She enunciated in her bold voice.

She found herself nodding obediently.

But one call – once a week?

Eva inwardly groaned.

She looked at her phone, flipping it open, realising she’d already received a message.

The message … that would be her last. That didn’t seem possible.

Thea had been blabbing on excitedly about waiting to hear how she’d been going and Michelle, she’d be eager to have someone to talk to.

Her inbox bar lit up with a message from Thea.

Eva:) Missing you my little sis! I’ll be waiting by the phone all night for your call! So be prepared to spill the beans! Oh and don’t forget to fill me in on all the latest gos to…..

Eva clamped the phone shut with her sweaty palm and slipped it back in her pocket, wishing she’d never read it.

Typical Thea fashion. Thoughtful and sweet of her. Except this time, unknowingly, she’d made Eva feel worse about herself. Her crappy phone had cut the message three lines in. In a way, Eva was almost relieved that she didn’t have hear about how everything had changed since she’d left, how everyone had moved on so quickly and how much fun life back home was.

Eva swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt guilty and selfish all of a sudden. It was her fault she had left her best friend. And now that she’d learned of the harsh 1 call a week rule, her life had just got a whole lot worse. Cutting a girl off her family was bad enough, but cutting off the only connection Eva had to the outside world and Thea, broke her heart. A sudden loneliness pinched her chest and realised she was going to have to settle here well, otherwise she’d be torn in misery the whole time.

The attendant clicked her fingers sharply, making sure she had her direct attention. She either hadn’t seen her phone, or wasn’t interested.

Eva was curious of the woman’s character. Had she smiled at someone – ever? It was a little hard to picture it. Her thin painted mauve lips were drawn in a black line deficient of hooks at the corners. Since Eva had met her, she’d done all the barking with no hint of a smile. Her voice was grating and slightly condescending: borderline of the characteristic deep male edgy voice. It made sense, strangely enough, that she hadn’t given her a warm welcome, her voice wasn’t good for that. Eva spontaneously felt the rising urge to laugh, but the straight, dead set serious expression of the woman, rooted Eva to the spot, preventing it. She had the judge expression, the tough nut to crack sort of character.

“Oh and remember timing
especially
.” She said. You were late and you’re lucky I didn’t feel like snapping at you today.”
Hardly
, Eva thought, remembering how she’d barked at her from moment she met her. “Around here, I’ve got no time for stragglers.”

In a split second, the woman’s eyes flitted over Eva’s outfit in what looked to be disapproval at Eva’s white peplum top and high waisted denim jeans as if she was wearing something vile.

Or
Eva was too dressed up for this place. Black clothing, tattoos and roughness seemed to be a thing here. Compared to everyone Eva had seen so far, who tended to dress complementary to Comb Bank’s gloomy historic presentation, she was a stand out. As far as she was concerned, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. After five minutes of walking around a subsection of the reform school, all she wanted was to blend in to everybody else.

“Eva?” The attendant waved a fussy hand at her. “It’s not time to daze off on your first day here. There’s a lot going on here, people to meet, places to be, things to do.”

Eva blinked a few times.

“Now I’ll show you your room, but I’m not going to give you a tour of the entire campus.” She said, harshly. “It’s up to you to figure it out – “she nattered on as she pushed past Eva and headed (trotted) down the narrow windy path, her five inch studded heels clomping against the cobble stone pavement.

Eva hurried behind, trying to keep up, glancing at the buildings as she went along, pedantic not to miss any of the details. She was still trying to figure out whether she’d filled out her giant stack of registration forms correctly.

“Any questions? She asked, flipping her head back to Eva momentarily to gain a response, allowing Eva no time to think for herself.

“Good.”

Eva released the handle and wheeled her suitcase behind the woman. She wondered whether there was anyone to help her carry her enormous duffel bag she’d been dragging in her other arm. Anyone other than the attendant who looked like she could burst into a fury at any moment. They walked past a stone archway, the gateway to what looked like a cemetery.

There were endless rows of wonky headstones chiselled in calligraphy, some letters washed out by the weather and time, bare vases absent of flowers. Eva couldn’t stop staring at them. The fact that she was in a school and she was walking through a cemetery was an unexpected surprise. Who was buried here? It was a cross between apocalyptic fiction, medieval mystery and a gothic fantasy. Some graves looking at least a few hundred years old, were in tatters. It looked as though the burial site had copped the bad weather, evident by the green moss taking over the headstones and the random tufts of lumpy brown grass. Everything about the gravesite was grave and miserable. The few leafless trees that stood, branched out low as if uniting in a respectful gesture of mourning. She stopped and crouched at one of the headstones.