Academy of Death

The Dorm

The driver dropped me off at the gate of an ancient sprawling edifice with white walls that expressed the void and pillars that supported the loftiness of its roofs. In a quiet atmosphere, the towering trees in lines and the weeds on the ground greeted me.

The name "Academy of Haut" was boldly scribbled in capital black letters on a plank near the gateway.

I dragged my belongings through the narrow path lined with shrubs on both sides toward the Academy of Haut's dorm. My gaze was drawn only to a middle-aged woman in a raven falling gown, with a sour face and a sharp gaze. Her dark lips moved, and the word "welcome" came out, but in a cold tone.

She grabbed my suitcase in an instant. As a nice friendly gentleman saluted me, the desire to refuse faded. My gaze was drawn to the handsome man's face, which featured a strong jaw and a beard along his cheek, and then to his name tag, Brad Thompson. That man in a dark suit and pants led me to the reception desk, where I could register as a new resident.

"May I have your name?" His gentle, peaceful voice echoed in my eardrum.

"Dawson, Dylanesa...D-Y-L-A-N-E-S-A D-A-W-S-O-N," I used my full name. The screen he was watching displayed all of my information, including my birthday, ID, and room number.

"Done! You have been officially admitted. Please find your room key below. Every intelligentsia has a maid who has a duplicate key to the bedroom in order to clean it. Ms. Greyson, your maid, will now take you to your compartment." I thanked him and carried out his instructions.

I'd be staying in this strange place for the next four years. This was one of the requirements set by the Academy of Haut, where I would study.

Ms. Greyson, the strange maid who yanked my luggage, took me to the top floor. When the lift door gaped open, I was confronted with a long dark snake-like corridor. This faded-light tunnel separated two rows of silent rooms on the right and left sides.

I felt awkward because the middle-aged woman next to me kept her mouth shut until we were in front of the brown curved door. My gaze shifted to the number 2012 written on the key in my hand.

Ms. Greyson opened the door by tapping the card key on the silver plate beneath the door handle. I followed her into my room.

I stared in awe as I witnessed the luxury within the room. It was much larger than I had anticipated. My gaze moved from the grand pink bed on one side of the room to the vanity on the other and a table lamp on the right.

The white hue dominated the wall and ceiling, as it did the rest of the room. Only the furniture, such as sofas and desks, were brown. On the other side of the bed was a massive beige wardrobe.

In the other nook, there was a separate room; it was the restroom. Our faces were illuminated by the light from above. My feet led me to the window, where I gazed down at the miniature scenery. From the twentieth floor, one space before the rooftop, everything changed into tiny objects.

I would not have had the opportunity to experience all of this if it hadn't been for my mother. Her story about this massive and magnificent academy from which my father graduated, as well as its dorm, enchanted me. And the desire to study at this institution grew in my heart. It grew and brought me here.

Every pore on its skin now reminded me of my parents. All of my limited memories with my mother abruptly created a melancholic feeling; her devastated expression when she cried every time she mentioned my father's name still lingered vividly. Unfortunately, destiny separated me from my father before I was born. And, oddly, my mother seemed uninterested in telling me his first name. My hand clutched my coat, restraining the agony that had appeared.

After my mother was killed in a terrible car accident nine years ago, I was left with only myself. Despite growing up in an orphanage, I developed into a tough young lady. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and turned to face the maid who was now touching my luggage.

She was removing my suitcase and stuffing it into the cupboard without my permission. I was about to say something, but her words stopped me.

"Allow me to do it for you. It is a requirement of my job. Simply take your time and relax. You must be exhausted."

"I appreciate it."

"Your meal will be ready in an hour. You must go downstairs fifteen minutes before dinner begins. The dining room is in the left corner of the second floor."

She left without saying anything after finishing her work. The bed beckoned me to rest my torso on it. When I tossed my body on the fluffy mattress, it bounced back. The journey to get here depleted my energy, leaving me exhausted. It was time to recharge it by taking a nap.

The ringing bell jolted me out of my slumber. I had no idea how long I had slept. The time was fifteen minutes after six o'clock. The rule was simple: I had to be in the dining room fifteen minutes before the event started. Did being a half-hour late mean I wouldn't get my dinner?

I took a quick shower before grabbing a t-shirt and jeans from the closet and getting dressed. Before I could comb my messy wavy long hair, someone knocked on the door and said my name. When the door swung open, I was met by a man.

"Miss, here's your dinner." The elderly man in a taupe jumpsuit with a white apron covering his tummy handed me a tray of food. "I decided to bring this food to your room because you didn't show up in the dining room." He said it cheerfully. He placed my food on the table next to the sofa without waiting for my permission.

"Thank you very much." I congratulated him. He gave a small smile and walked away.

I only glanced at the food; I'd eat it later. First and foremost, I needed to fix my unkempt hair. My attention was drawn to a square object hanging on the wall covered in black cloth by my feet.

I slid the cloth away, hesitantly. I was startled to see my reflection there. It wasn't a mirror, but a photograph of a girl who looked exactly like me, her oval face sculpted with big round emerald green eyes, a pointed nose, and thin small pink lips. Her beauty was defined by her wavy long brown hair with a straight bang. No, it wasn't me! Someone else's face looked exactly like mine.

Did I have a twin? My mother never told me about it.

"Please excuse me, Miss. I apologize for bothering you, but I...must...remove that photo." He walked in through the open door. His gaze was fixed on the image. Did he notice how similar we were?

"Can you tell me who the girl in the picture is?" Curious, I inquired.

"I forgot her name because she never returned to this dorm after being reported missing."

"Missing?" He gave me a small nod. "How is that possible?" I pressed him with a question.

"No one knows what happened to her." Miss, good night." He said his goodbyes. He didn't notice our resemblance.  Was he just pretending not to see our identical faces? "I'm wondering if you two are twins," he said, shifting his gaze from the photo to me and back again.

"Look after yourself, Miss." He said something ominous before disappearing behind the door.