CHAPTER 1:How it all started
Do you know what it’s like to be lonely? Wanting to be loved? To have a best friend or a lover for you and you only, someone who won’t share you with anyone else? Do you know what it’s like to be sad? I mean really sad, the kind that sticks to your chest and makes it hard to breathe sometimes.
My name is Hannah Blackwell, and I live with my mother, Mitchell Blackwell. She’s always working, and we don’t see each other much. Not because she doesn’t want to spend time with me, but because life as a doctor doesn’t stop. People get into accidents, emergencies happen, lives are on the line twenty-four hours a day. I understand that. I do. But sometimes, I wish she was just a little more present. Not for long periods, just a few hours where we could connect. But her shifts are long, exhausting, and often unpredictable.
I am a junior at Nevermore College, in my first year of the second semester. I have friends, though I’ve learned to be selective. Today, like most days, I wake up feeling a mixture of anticipation and dread. I study Computer Science and stay with my mother. I’m not ready to live in the school residence. Sharing a room with a stranger? The idea makes my skin crawl. Privacy is precious, and I guard mine carefully.
The door closed behind my mother with a quiet thud. That’s her leaving for work. I paused for a moment, listening to the silence that followed. Time to take a shower. Time to prepare myself for the day ahead—the classrooms, the students, the faces I have to deal with, the smiles, the whispers. I like being alone, and sometimes I enjoy being around friends, but only the real ones. Not fake ones who smile while planning behind your back.
I have a spiritual gift, by the way. I can sense things about people that most overlook. I know a crook when I see one. I know when someone’s intentions are false, or when something isn’t right. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It’s always been there. Some might call it strange, but I’ve learned to trust it.
The shower is warm, hot steam curling up around me. As the water hits my skin, I let my thoughts drift, as always. I create scenarios in my mind, imaginary conversations, little daydreams. Some people would think it’s sad, but I like it. It gives me hope, even when reality feels heavy. I just have to be careful. Sometimes these thoughts spiral, taking me places I shouldn’t go. That’s why I call myself a careful thinker… or maybe a mental wanderer.
I try to act normal, even though I’m not. Some days, it works. Other days, everything feels heavier, darker, more complicated. I like listening to music; it’s my way of escaping. Today, I decided to listen to Rod Wave. I started with “I Ran”. That part where he sings, “Thinkin' to myself all alone, thoughts in the dark / God, please heal my heart, in the imaginary world we run off alone / find love and nothing tear us apart”—I know it by heart. It fits exactly how I feel sometimes, like there’s this secret, quiet world where everything can be perfect, even if only for a moment.
I am a dark-skinned girl. Today, I was debating my outfit. I already had a black crop top and white motorcycle jacket laid out, but my mind kept wandering: should I wear a pink summer dress with fluffy sandals? Or maybe striped leggings with a pink baseball shirt? Oh God, I’m going to be late. I know I should have prepared yesterday, but even then, I would have changed my mind ten times before leaving.
“Hannah Blackwell, focus,” I muttered to myself, staring into the mirror.
Finally, I decided on black jeans, a white crop top, a white motorcycle fashion jacket, and Airforce bun shoes. I pulled my hair into a messy bun, the strands falling just right to frame my face. I took a few pictures—because even when life feels heavy, the best thing you can do for yourself is to look pretty. It reminds you that you’re worth noticing, worth caring for, even if the world isn’t kind today.
Enough about that, Hannah, I scolded myself. Time to move.
I grabbed an apple and a few snacks, tossing them into my bag. I didn’t want to be late. The quiet hum of the morning, the faint sounds of traffic outside, the anticipation of seeing friends, classmates, and the usual faces I had grown accustomed to—it all waited for me. Today would be just another day, but it was mine to navigate. And I had to be ready.
