ONLY THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FOUR MORE DAYS TO GO.

Chapter 2

Aurelia

The lobby was chaos. Students everywhere, parents everywhere, boxes and suitcases and laughter and conversations that all blended together into overwhelming noise.

I kept my head down and moved toward the check-in desk, trying to make myself as small as possible.

No one noticed me. That was good. Invisible was safe.

I checked in with a student worker who barely looked at me, got my room key, and headed toward the elevators.

I was assigned to the third floor, room 304. I'd specifically requested a single room, and my parents had paid extra to make sure I got it.

I couldn't handle a roommate, couldn't handle someone constantly watching me, judging me, seeing all the ways I was wrong.

The elevator was packed with students and parents, all of them talking and laughing.

I squeezed into a corner and stared at the floor, counting my breaths, trying to stay calm.

Three floors. Just three floors and then I could be alone.

When the doors opened on the third floor, I practically ran out, dragging my suitcases behind me. I found room 304 at the end of the hall, unlocked it with shaking hands, and stepped inside.

It was small. A twin bed, a desk, a dresser, a tiny closet. A window that looked out over the quad where I could see hundreds of students moving around like they owned the world.

I closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it, finally letting myself breathe.

I'd made it. First step complete.

Only three hundred and sixty-four more days to go.

I spent the rest of the day unpacking and trying not to think about tomorrow when I'd have to actually leave my room and go to class.

I hung my clothes in the closet, all those oversized hoodies and baggy shirts that would keep me hidden.

I set up my desk with my laptop and notebooks. I made my bed with the plain grey sheets I'd brought from home.

I made myself a nest where I could hide for the next year.

As the sun started to set, I stood at my window and looked out at the campus.

Students were gathering in groups on the quad, laughing and talking, living their lives without fear.

I watched them and felt the familiar ache of loneliness mixed with the relief of solitude.

I was here. I was at Westridge University. And for the next year, I was going to survive the only way I knew how.

By staying invisible.

By keeping my head down.

By making sure no one ever saw me at all.

Tomorrow, classes would start. Tomorrow, I'd have to walk through campus and sit in classrooms and try to pretend I was normal.

Tomorrow, I'd have to face my worst fear.

Being seen.

But tonight, I was safe. Tonight, I was alone. And alone was the only place I'd ever felt like I could breathe.

I pulled my hoodie tighter around myself, climbed into bed, and stared at the ceiling.

Somewhere on this campus, life was happening. Friendships were forming, romances were starting, futures were being built.

But not for me.

Never for me.

I was just here to survive one year, collect my degree requirements, and disappear back into the safety of my invisible life.

That was the plan.

That was all it could ever be.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, tried not to think about how much I already regretted this decision, tried not to feel the weight of my own fear crushing me.

Tomorrow would come whether I was ready or not.

And I was definitely not ready.

But I'd made a promise. One year. Just one year.

I could survive anything for one year.

Even this.

Even myself.

.......

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring at six AM, and for a blissful moment, I forgot where I was.

Then reality crashed down on me like a physical weight, and I remembered everything. Westridge University. My dorm room. My first day of classes.

My heart started racing immediately.

I lay in bed for ten minutes, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself to get up.

My first class wasn't until nine, but I needed time to prepare myself mentally. Time to build up the courage to leave this room.

Finally, I forced myself to sit up. My body felt heavy, like gravity was working twice as hard to keep me pinned to the bed. Anxiety did that sometimes, made everything feel harder than it should be.

I shuffled to the tiny bathroom attached to my room, grateful again that I'd paid extra for a single. At least I didn't have to face a roommate right now, didn't have to make small talk or pretend to be normal.

I looked at myself in the mirror and winced. My eyes had dark circles under them from barely sleeping. My hair was a mess from tossing and turning all night. I looked exactly how I felt, exhausted and terrified.

I took a quick shower, the hot water doing nothing to ease the tension in my shoulders.

I dressed in my usual uniform, a baggy grey hoodie and black leggings. I pulled my damp hair back into a low ponytail, not bothering with makeup because what was the point? I wasn't trying to be noticed. I was trying to disappear.

I grabbed my backpack, double-checked that I had my class schedule, my anxiety medication, and my phone, then stood at the door for a full five minutes trying to convince myself to open it.

You can do this, I told myself. It's just walking to class. Just sitting in a room. Just surviving a few hours. You've survived worse.

But had I? The last time I'd been in a classroom with other students, I'd ended up in a hospital with a bottle of pills in my stomach and a note that said I couldn't take it anymore.

I pushed that memory away. That was eight years ago. I was different now. Older. Supposedly stronger.

I took a deep breath, pulled my hood up over my head, and opened the door.

The hallway was already filled with students heading to breakfast or early classes.

I kept my eyes on the floor and walked quickly toward the stairwell, not wanting to wait for the crowded elevator.

Every person I passed felt like a judgment, like they were looking at me and seeing everything wrong with me.

No one was actually looking at me. I knew that logically. But anxiety didn't care about logic.

I made it outside and paused at the edge of the quad, trying to orient myself.

My first class was Introduction to Literature in the Humanities building, which according to my campus map was on the far side of the quad.

I'd have to walk across the entire open space where hundreds of students were already gathered.

My chest tightened. I couldn't do this. I couldn't walk through that crowd.

But I had to. I'd promised. One year. I had to at least try.

I pulled my hood lower, hunched my shoulders, and started walking. I kept my eyes on the ground, watching my feet move one in front of the other.

Left, right, left, right. Just keep moving. Don't look up. Don't make eye contact. Don't let anyone see you.

Conversations floated around me as I walked, laughters and music from someone's speaker. The sound of friendships and connections and everything I'd never had.

"Hey, watch out!"

I looked up just in time to see a guy on a skateboard headed straight toward me. I froze, and he swerved at the last second, narrowly missing me.

"Maybe pay attention," he called back, annoyed.

My face burned with embarrassment, I ducked my head lower and walked faster.

Of course. Of course on my first day I'd already messed up, already drawn attention to myself.

I finally reached the Humanities building and practically ran inside, grateful for the relative quiet of the hallway.

I found room 201 on the second floor and slipped inside, choosing a seat in the very back corner where I could see everyone but no one would notice me.

The classroom slowly filled with students who all seemed to know each other already.

They clustered in groups, talking and laughing, completely at ease. I sat alone in my corner, pulling out my notebook and pen, keeping my eyes down.

"Is this seat taken?"

I looked up to find a girl with short black hair streaked with purple standing next to the empty seat beside me.

She had multiple piercings in her ears, a nose ring, and a leather jacket covered in pins.

She looked cool and confident and nothing like someone who would voluntarily sit next to me.

"No," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

She sat down and pulled out her laptop. "I'm Sienna. Computer Science major but I need humanities credits. You?"

I stared at her, confused why she was talking to me. "Aurelia. Um, I haven't declared a major yet."

"Smart. No point committing until you know what you actually like." Sienna looked at me more closely, and I fought the urge to hide my face. "You look terrified. First day nerves?"

"Something like that," I admitted.

"Don't worry. College professors are way more chill than high school teachers. Most of them don't even take attendance." Sienna grinned. "I'm planning to skip at least thirty percent of this class and just get notes from someone."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just nodded and looked back down at my notebook.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" Sienna said, but her tone wasn't mean. Just observant. "That's cool. I can talk enough for both of us."

The professor walked in before I had to figure out how to respond. She was a woman in her fifties with grey hair and a warm smile that made me slightly less anxious.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Professor Chen, and this is Introduction to Literature. Let's start by going around the room and having everyone introduce themselves."

My stomach dropped. No. No, no, no. I couldn't do this. I couldn't stand up and talk in front of all these people.

"Let's start in the front row and work our way back," Professor Chen said.

I listened with growing dread as student after student introduced themselves with confidence and ease.

Their voices didn't shake, their hands didn't tremble, they acted like speaking in front of a room full of strangers was normal.

We got closer and closer to my corner. Sienna went before me, introducing herself with a joke that made half the class laugh.

Then it was my turn.

Everyone turned to look at me. Thirty pairs of eyes, all focused on me, all seeing me. My worst nightmare.