Page 19 of Architecti
He doesn’t respond.
My blood dribbles down the iron rail.I’m not an idiot; I take heed of the warning and edge away.Maybe I don’t want to attend Finis after all.
This place is cooked.
The world tilts.
My head swims.I stumble towards the bike.There’s a flash of white fur.I swear I saw that white cat earlier.Am I hallucinating?Was my drink spiked at the rave?
Grey smatters my vision.Bile climbs up my throat.
I gag.
Wretch.
Fall to my knees and spew up the contents of my stomach.I crawl to my bike, my fingers outstretched.
Then there’s nothing.
* * *
I come round on my bike with the streets of Ora City speeding past.
“What the fuck?”
I’m so startled I swerve, nearly knocking over a couple about to cross the road.I grip the handlebars, tension coursing through my body.My heart hammering against my ribs.I have no fucking clue how I got here.
Houses race past—neat, orderly rows of bricks.Mansions dotted between.The further I get into the city, the denser the housing and the sparser the greenery.
I pull into my street, park the bike on the drive and scramble off, staring at it like an alien.
I don’t even remember getting back on it, let alone how I started it and made it halfway across the city practically unconscious.My skin is feverish with the need to wash the evening off.
Key.
Door.
Quick glance over my shoulder.
Inside.
I enter the kitchen and sling my helmet on the counter.The evening’s events gnaw at my insides, a malignant tumour that bloats with every step I take.
If I thought I was freaked out before, it’s nothing compared to the way my veins turn to ice as I approach the kitchen table.
A Finis Academy envelope rests on the wood.But I threw my rejection letter in the bin.Didn’t I?
Didn’t I?
I swear I did.
No.Idid.I’m certain I threw it in the bin.
My fingers inch towards the lid and lift it, convinced I’ll see the crumpled parchment.There’s nothing but food and wrappers.That tumour swollen with unease in my belly bulges.Am I losing it?My throat is thick and my skin aches where goosebumps rise.
I reach the table, my fingers tremble as I lift the envelope.It’s sealed with the Finis Academy’s logo stamped in red wax.
I can scarcely bring myself to crack it.Déjà vu is messing with my head.I thought I’d opened this letter already.
