Chapter 3

Mark burst out the front door, his backpack slung over his shoulder, his movements tinged with nervous energy. His eyes darted around, scanning the quiet suburban street as if expecting to find hidden observers lurking in the shadows.

The headaches and fatigue that had plagued him for weeks had vanished, replaced by a vibrant alertness that bordered on hyper-awareness.

Ignoring the car keys dangling from his fingers, he decided to walk. The fresh air and the rhythm of his footsteps might help clear his head.

But as he navigated the familiar sidewalks, his senses went on high alert, taking in every detail of his surroundings.

Birdsong, too sharp, too close. The distant roar of a lawnmower vibrated up through his bones, every pulse like a heartbeat. Even the smell of freshly cut grass, usually calming, sent a spike of irritation through his sinuses.

He could taste ozone on the back of his tongue. His vision sharpened to the point that individual leaves on the trees seemed to pulsate with emerald fire.

This was how the world looked when he channeled, when the world’s hidden energy currents came alive. Except, he wasn’t trying to channel.

Shit. This wasn’t normal.

He quickened his pace, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders as he broke into a jog. The sun beat down on his face, a welcome warmth that contrasted with the internal chill that refused to fully dissipate. He was already late for his first class, but the urgency he felt wasn’t solely due to his tardiness.

Something was off, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck.

He was almost there when he bumped into someone, sending his backpack flying and scattering his books all over the sidewalk.

“Shit, sorry about that,” Mark said, hastily gathering his belongings.

The guy he’d bumped into—a lanky figure with curly hair and an easygoing grin—chuckled. “No worries. Running late?”

“Yeah, I’ve got an early class,” he replied sheepishly, stuffing his books back into his backpack.

“Don’t sweat it, happens. Just relax, you’ll make it.”

Mark managed a weak smile in return, grateful for the stranger’s laid-back attitude. With a final nod of thanks, he hurried away.

The familiar red brick façade of his lecture hall never looked less welcoming. He slipped inside, the fluorescent buzz of the lights another irritant in his hypersensitive state.

Sinking into a seat in the back row—safe, unobtrusive, easily overlooked, as usual— he did his best to become a shadow again, to pretend everything was fine, to ignore the way the world hummed around him like an overcharged wire, poised to snap.

The classroom felt stifling, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and nervous anticipation. He tried to focus on the lecture, but the words seemed to wash over him, leaving no lasting impression. His gaze darted around the room.

Is someone watching me? He couldn’t shake the paranoia, that same prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Did someone see? Could— He shoved the thought aside before it fully formed.

Everyone else seemed oblivious, focused on the lecture, scribbling down in their notebooks. Mark attempted to follow suit, his pen scratching across the page, but his mind refused to cooperate. The image of the terrified cashier, the crunch of bone beneath his knuckles, and Lida’s disappointed expression kept intruding upon his thoughts.

“ ... and so, the concept of marginal utility is crucial to understanding consumer behavior,” the professor’s voice cut through the haze of Mark’s internal struggle, pulling him back to the present moment.

He blinked, realizing he had missed a significant portion of the lecture.

He tried to refocus, to catch up on the missed content, but the feeling of being watched, of being hunted, gnawed at him relentlessly. The classroom walls seemed to close in, the air growing thick and suffocating.

By the time the blessed bell rang, his skin felt as though it barely contained the energy thrumming beneath the surface.

He nearly bowled Ron over as he escaped the classroom, apologies jumbled in his rush to get to somewhere – anywhere— where he wasn’t trapped between those close, familiar walls.

“Yo dude, where the fuck were you last night?” Ron asked, giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder.”You missed a killer party at Jake’s.”

“Something, uh, came up.”

“Damn, that sucks. It was wild, man. You should’ve been there,” Ron lamented, recounting the highlights of the previous night’s party.

Mark forced a smile. “Yeah, sounds like I missed out. I’ll try to make it to the next one.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Mark deflected, hoping to avoid further probing. “Long night studying.”

“Uh-huh,” Ron said skeptically. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Mark shrugged, his gaze drifting towards the bustling campus quad. “Yeah, yeah ... Just a bit stressed about exams and stuff.”

“You look like shit dude. Why don’t you take the day off?”

“It’s alright. I have enough classes already.”

As they walked through the campus, Mark’s sense of unease intensified. He felt as if he were being watched, scrutinized again and again.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Ron asked, breaking the silence.

“I’m fine, Ron.”

“Alright, well, I’m heading to the cafeteria. Wanna join me?”

His stomach churned with anxiety, and the thought of food held little appeal. But maybe a bit of distraction will help though.

“Sure, why not.”

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos—a symphony of clanging trays, shouted greetings, and the greasy aroma of fries and burgers thick in the air. They found an empty table and settled in, Ron chattering away about his latest romantic escapades while Mark picked at his food, his appetite nonexistent.

“Dude, seriously, you’re barely eating anything.”

“Just not that hungry.”

“You’ve been acting weird all day, Mark. Something’s going on. Spill it.”

“It’s just ... I had a rough night. Didn’t get much sleep.” He opted for a half-truth.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Nah, I just need some time,” Mark said, offering a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine.”

They finished their lunch in relative silence. As they parted ways, Ron gave Mark a final pat on the back.

“Seriously, man, if you need anything, just call.”

“Thanks, Ron. I will.”

He couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt. Ron was always there for him, but he’d been too preoccupied lately to be there for his friend. He made a mental note to make it up to him soon.

“Well, I gotta head to my next class,” Mark said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “See you later.”

“Yeah, catch you later.”

Mark watched his friend disappear down the hallway, feeling a sense of unease settle in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He decided to take Ron’s advice and skip his next class, opting instead to head to the campus library to clear his head.

Lost in his thoughts, Mark nearly collided with a group of students milling around outside the library entrance.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” one of them snapped.

“Sorry,” Mark mumbled, as he hurried past them.

Damn it! Why did I think the library would be a good idea?

He pushed through the heavy oak doors, the scent of old paper and dust momentarily grounding.

But the sight that greeted him was pure chaos- tables crammed, students huddled over textbooks, laptops glowing, a low hum of anxious energy filling the air.

The sound of turning pages, hushed whispers and the occasional cough filled the air.

Of course, he thought with a sigh, midterms.

I should have known. The library. Of all the stupid...

His gaze scanned the room, searching for any available spot, but it seemed every nook and cranny had been claimed. His frustration spiked with every occupied table he passed.

Just as he was about to resign himself to studying at a noisy coffee shop, he spotted a small, almost hidden room tucked beside a display of biographies no one had likely touched in years. It was barely larger than a closet, but it offered a desk, a chair, and most importantly, solitude.

With a sense of relief, he settled into the cramped space, spreading out his books and notes.

For a blessed few hours, his brain cooperated, losing himself in his studies. The only sounds in the room were the scratching of his pen on paper and the occasional rustling of pages.

The quiet solitude of the small room provided the perfect environment for focused concentration, allowing him to temporarily escape the lingering unease.

However, as the afternoon wore on, a sense of monotony began to creep in. Needing a break from the dry business theories, he decided to explore the library’s vast collection. He went up the stairs to the second floor, looking at the endless rows of bookshelves. His eyes fell on the modern European history section, sparking his curiosity. He started browsing the titles, his fingers brushing over the worn spines.