Page 58 of Atlas of Unknowable Things
I couldn’t put my finger on the precise moment I’d begun to feel my grip on reality slip, but since coming to Hildegard, it was as though I was becoming someone I barely knew. My dreams felt hallucinatory, almost prophetic. I was experiencing sleep paralysis and waking up in places I couldn’t remember going. And I’d started considering notions I’d once scoffed at. In my darkest moments I’d half believed that werewolves and lake monsters might be real, I was vaguely convinced that the island was the site of a human sacrifice, and now I was hallucinating in the woods and losing time. I wanted to find out what had really happened to Isabelle (and, of course, to her artifact), but at this point, was it worth it?
No, I decided. It wasn’t. Finding the relic would be great and all, but these people were playing with my head, and my life was beginning to feel wildly out of control. I’d seen things I couldn’t explain and had experienced mental trajectories so far outside of my character that they were beginning to seriously worry me. Getting a leg up on an academic publication wasn’t worth thedisorientation and lack of agency I had begun to feel. If this were a movie, I would be shouting at the main character to get out of there. And indeed, nothing was stopping me. I kept feeling as though something was, but it wasn’t. I was free to go. And that’s exactly what I decided to do.
I bought my ticket that night and then started packing. Grabbing my suitcase, I threw it on the bed and started tossing in clothes. I opened the desk drawer, grabbed the cards and the widows’ keys, and went to pack them as well—I’d return them if anyone asked—but one slipped out of the deck and landed on the floor. I picked it up and was about to put it back in the deck when the image on it made me freeze. It showed a cart traversing a steep mountain pass, and in the back, hoisted onto a hook, was a grisly rendering of a flayed animal. I didn’t know if I believed in the accuracy of divination, but if there was ever a message from the universe, that was it.
The next day, I headed up to the house to let them know I’d be leaving. I found Dorian in his office sorting through some papers.
He stood up when he saw me, smiling brilliantly. “Looks like you’re feeling better.”
“Yeah,” I said, lingering in the doorway, fiddling with my hands. Why was this producing so much anxiety in me? I took a breath and noticed I was shaking. “But I have to head home.”
He didn’t seem to understand at first, but then his smile faded, and I felt a knot in my heart when I saw the sadness in his eyes. “Can I… can I ask why?”
“It’s my cousin,” I said, trying to look like I wasn’t lying. “Sort of a family emergency. There’s no way around it.”
He sat back down and looked at the papers he’d been examining. “I see.”
I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder, but he flinched at my touch.
“I want you to know that I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I just need to go back home.”
“Of course,” he said, his tone distant and cold. “Family always comes first. Do you want me to make the arrangements for you?”
“I booked my flight already.”
“Of course,” he said, still not meeting my eyes. “I wish we would have gotten to spend more time together, but you need to go where your heart calls you.”
That seemed like a strange turn of phrase. My heart?
“I really appreciated the fellowship opportunity,” I said, but he looked away.
“Yes, of course,” he said, ignoring me and turning a sheet of paper over. “I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Yeah,” I said, stepping away awkwardly. “Of course.”
Confused, I walked back out into the hall. That was not how I’d expected him to behave.
I wasn’t sure if Dorian would inform the others of my impending departure, but later that day, I decided I should tell them myself. I found them gathered in Aspen’s cabana sitting around a low coffee table drinking out of steaming mugs, and as soon as I walked in the room, I could tell I’d been a recent subject of discussion.
“We hear you’re off,” Finn said with a puckish grin.
“Yeah. Tomorrow afternoon. I just wanted to stop by and say it was great meeting you all.”
I’d expected some kind of pleasantries, but instead they just stared at me as if waiting for me to explain more. It felt weirdlyunsocialized. I looked at each of them, our eyes momentarily connecting, and behind those eyes I saw a singular, completely inexplicable emotion: fear. I had the feeling they were looking at me like I was a wild animal capable of almost anything, and that collectively, they needed to keep me under control.
“Anyway,” I said, trying not to show how shaken I actually was by their response. “I just wanted to say goodbye because as I said, I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“How are you going to leave?” Lexi asked.
That sounded vaguely threatening. My arm muscles involuntarily tensed in response.
“I’ve booked my transportation.” This was only partially true. I wasn’t able to book a ride from the college, so I’d arranged to get picked up in Petit Rouen.
“We’ll be sorry to see you go,” said Lexi, overcome with emotion, which took me by surprise, because as far as I could tell, she didn’t even like me.
But if Lexi seemed sad about my leaving, Finn and Aspen seemed almost panicked.
“It would be in everyone’s best interest if you stayed for the entirety of the summer,” Aspen said, almost as if she were repeating a scripted line of dialogue.
