Julian sifted through his bag, adjusting the weight of his books, when a familiar knocking pattern echoed through the hallway. It was quick, insistent, like a secret code. His pulse quickened as he muttered under his breath, "Imogen."
He moved toward the door, each step feeling like the one before it. Before he could even ask why she was bothering him so early in the morning, the door swung open and Imogen stood there, her expression tight with concern.
"I went to Darren's dorm last night and…" Her voice trailed off, and Julian could see the unease in her eyes.
Julian raised an eyebrow, his thoughts already racing. "And what?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "His door was open. I don't mean like unlocked... I mean wide open. I asked around, and they said it's been like that for the past two days."
Julian frowned, his mind already jumping to conclusions. "Then why didn't anyone go check up on him? He could've been hurt... or someone could've burgled him."
Imogen hesitated, her gaze darting to the side before she spoke again, voice barely above a murmur. "Because... they said they heard voices coming from his dorm. Strange thing was, they were all his voices."
Julian's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, 'all his voices'?"
Imogen let out a slow breath, the weight of her words sinking in. "I mean, it was him talking to himself. One voice answering, the other asking questions. It was like... two of him, arguing back and forth. I don't know how to explain it."
Julian's pulse quickened, his mind grasping for any logical explanation, but nothing came. "What else did they say about him? Over the past few days, I mean."
She exhaled, looking more troubled than ever. "Well, the voices stopped at 03:00 AM, and no one's heard anything since yesterday. But the door's still open."
Julian's eyes narrowed, the unease deepening in his chest. "What did you find in there?"
Imogen paused for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Ah... it's better if you see for yourself. But there was a mirror—covered by a cloth. And dust, everywhere, like it hadn't been touched in days. But on the desk, where the mirror was, there was no dust. Only one thing—a grief counseling admission form."
Julian's thoughts spun, each new detail unraveling his sense of certainty. A mirror, an empty dorm, voices... and now, this form. It didn't make sense. But the nagging feeling in his gut told him this was just the beginning.
Julian nodded, his mind already working through the possibilities. "I'll check it out later. Keep an eye out by his room and look for anything strange in the meantime. When my classes are done, I'll head over and investigate."
Imogen gave a sharp nod, her eyes still shadowed with concern. "I'll be here, watching, waiting. You'll need to be in class by the time I'm done here, so I'll message you everything I find. Keep your phone on you."
"Got it," Julian muttered, turning to grab his things. The weight of the situation hung in the air, but there was no avoiding it. Something wasn't right with Darren... and whatever it was, Julian was determined to get to the bottom of it.
As Julian made his way to his psychology class, the usual hum of the campus seemed distant, almost surreal, as his mind raced. The thought of Darren lingered, persistent and gnawing at the edges of his focus. Voices… his own voices? Julian couldn't shake the image of the door wide open, as though something had been left undone, unfinished. It didn't sit right with him—the mirror, the dust, the grief counseling form. He could almost hear the voices now, echoing through his thoughts, the strange duality of Darren's voice speaking to itself. It was the kind of thing you only saw in the shadows, in places where the mind blurred the line between reality and something darker. What happened to you, Darren? The question twisted in his gut, but as he passed through the campus, the usual bustle of students felt too loud, too real, almost as if it were mocking his thoughts. The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and Julian shoved the unease aside, pushing forward—distracting himself with the comforting familiarity of the lecture hall. But even as he sat down, he couldn't shake the feeling that Darren's fate was somehow tied to something far deeper than just a strange occurrence. Something he wasn't ready to face. Not yet.