CHAPTER 3

Suzanne stepped out of Knewton University’s hallway entrance with her trusty red toolbox swinging in her hands.  As she bounced towards her car, she took a look at her surroundings and marvelled at all the students around her. She never did attend university, having already started her business at a tender age of 18. The youngsters seemed to live in a whole different world. For a brief moment, she wondered what life would have been like if she had been born a normal girl. 

Then she shook her head. Get a grip Suzanne Summers.

She opened her car door, hopped in, and started the engine. As she revved away, she missed seeing a black mist forming in the shadows at the entrance of the hallway. In fact, no once seemed to the ominous dark matter. No one could see it.

It stayed there for quite some time as if confused. What was it here for again?

Then, as a young woman walked out of the entrance, she seemingly brushed against the black mist. In an instant, her face turned ghoulish, she lost consciousness and slumped onto the ground. Students around her rushed to her aid as the black mist floated away. 

***

D-Day - 5

Tom sat in his office cubicle, his back hunched over his desk as he stared blankly at the glass vial. He was supposed to prepare the lecture notes for his next class, but his mind kept replaying the scenes from earlier on today.

He had noticed Suzanne Summers the moment she stepped into the lecture hall. She had walked in just a few minutes after he had started his lecture. And as she strode in behind Richard the redhead, she had caught his eye. There was a quiet air of confidence in her walk, and a twinkle in her eye when she had approached him. But what he remembered the most about her was her voice. It was warm and rich, soothing to the extent that it became somewhat hypnotic. And that was perhaps why he had thought she was a con artist in the first place.

But then she had mentioned his late mother’s name. Yvonne Long. Not many people knew that name. In fact, the only person who knew his mother’s name was the orphanage’s Directress.

But ghosts don’t exist. You know that. He thought to himself.

He was so absorbed with his internal debate that he failed to notice his colleagues talking about a student who had seemingly crumpled to the ground.

“The medical officer said she aged 30 years,” one said. 

“Oh, come on, that can’t be. You know how the MO exaggerates,” another replied.

“But I was there, and I saw her…It’s not normal. It’s like her lifeforce was sapped out of her,” another chipped in.

“Hey, Tom, earth to Tom. You heard about Emily from Socio-Economics?” the first one leaned over, waving his hand in front of Tom’s face.

“What’s that glowing vial? Another one of your toys?” the same lecturer asked.

Tom stood up abruptly. 

“Let the Dean know I need to take the day off,“ he began packing his laptop bag. 

His colleagues looked at him quizzically. It was unlike Tom to take a sudden leave. He practically lived at the university. 

“Where are you heading to?” they asked.

“I’ve got to check something out at St. John’s Hospital.”

***

D-Day – 3

The apartment was dark, save for a single source of light coming from the bathroom. In it, steam could be seen rising from the shower floor as warm water splashed onto Tom Bank’s naked body from the showerhead. 

He was hunched over, with his head facing down, and an outstretched hand pressed against the wet wall. Droplets of water dripped from his hair and slid down his bareback as he stood under the shower motionless. No one would have been able to tell, but tears were forming from the corner of his eyes as he cried silently.

He had visited the hospital and found out that his maternal mother had just passed away less than 3 days ago, contrary to what Wendy Letterman, the directress of the orphanage had led him to believe.

He had grown up thinking that his mother had died giving birth to him and that his father had met with an accident just before he was born. 

It was all a lie.

He threw a punch at the wall, mouth grimacing in pain. He could endure physical pain. But it was the pain from abandonment that hurt him more. 

He had gone to see Wendy. After much persuasion, she finally relented and admitted to Tom that the birthday and Christmas gifts all came from his late mother. She had been keeping a tab on him all these years, never once failing to buy him presents. 

And yet, she never showed up.

Why now? After all these years?

His mother had left him her belongings. They weren’t much. He could tell she wasn’t well off and that she had no family of her own. In fact, she had been working at the soup kitchen for the past decade. Why hadn’t she come to look for him?

I need to know.

His head snapped up and he wiped his face with the palm of his hand before turning off the shower. Tom stepped out of the shower and threw on a bathrobe around his taut muscular body. He went to his bedroom and fished out the glass vial from his drawer. He shook it and it glowed.

It didn’t look like tonic water. Tom was curious as to what chemicals Suzanne Summers had used. He wasn’t so crazy about opening the vial though. What if it was acidic? Or what if the liquid had some adverse side effects? 

He decided that he would seek her out. He needed to know how she came to know of Yvonne Long.