Nocticadia: A Dark Academia Gothic Romance
Nocticadia: Chapter 14

Wind howled at the window, as I lay in bed, staring out at a dark sky. Classes would begin first thing the next morning, and no surprise, I couldn’t sleep. The heavy ache of exhaustion burned in my eyes, but every time I closed them, my head spun with thoughts. Probably didn’t help that my stomach growled incessantly. Seeing as I wasn’t yet ready to head down to the dining room myself, I’d eaten nothing more than a granola bar from the vending machine on our floor. One that hadn’t filled me up much.

Earlier, I’d ventured to the Dracadian bookstore, an absolute monstrous building packed with students buying supplies and books and even some of the Dracadian merch they sold there. Most of my classes had opted for online texts, meaning I only needed the few books that I’d neatly stacked on the shelf above my desk.

Noting the time on the clock was just after midnight, I climbed from the bed and crossed the room to the south window, beyond which the moon’s light glistened off the ocean’s dark surface. Staring out at the expanse of black water, I imagined myself out on that sea, alone. Adrift. Terrified of what lurked below the water.

For weeks after my mother passed, I’d had dreams about the sea, even though it seemed as foreign to me as outer space. I’d felt hands pulling at me. The water reaching for my mouth. The icy cold embrace crushing my ribs. Voices I hadn’t recognized telling me to let go.

Below the surface, I’d see my mother, so calm and still, as if she’d fallen asleep.

At the first sight of black worms slithering past her blue lips, I’d shake awake, panting and trembling.

As time went on, I’d slept less and less. Ten hours to seven, then six. Nowadays, I’d been lucky to get four in a night. Sleeping pills weren’t an option, after the insurance had run out, so I’d suffered through lack of sleep, nodding off in class and throughout the day. My only saving grace was that I had knack for acing tests. Otherwise, I’d have probably failed out of every class.

With a long and tired sigh, I stood staring. In all my twisted thoughts and nightmares, I’d never once anticipated how mesmerizing the sea would be. How utterly magical, even in what little I could make of it from my window. How calming. Vast. I liked that it made me feel small and insignificant. That it could be dark and domineering, yet beautiful at the same time.

A flickering movement caught the corner of my eye, and I looked down to see an insect hopping across the sill. A black moth, from what I could make out. I’d never personally seen a black moth before. Bent at an odd angle, its wing looked injured and left behind a fine black dust on the white sill. Moths had always scared my mother, for some reason. Whenever one had managed to fly into our house, she’d chased it with a broom, smashing it to bits of guts and dust.

I stuck out my hand, letting the creature hobble onto my palm, and studied its wounded wing, noting tiny gouges that looked oddly like bite marks. It fluttered its good wing, tickling my palm, and with a smile, I placed it back on the sill to resume my vigil.

As my muscles loosened and my focus waned for an oncoming trance, the sound of rattling carried across the room. Frowning, I turned toward the exit door, catching the slight movement of the knob.

What the hell?

At home, when the door rattled in the middle of the night, I didn’t answer it, because it was either Conner stumbling home drunk after a night with friends, or a street junkie looking for a place to crash. I was no longer at home, though.

I tiptoed toward the door, watching the light from the hallway flicker beneath it. Someone was there, for sure. Scarcely breathing, I pressed my ear to the door for a listen.

Silence on the other side.

A chill brushed the back of my neck, ice-cold fingers over my nape.

Unintelligible whispers tickled my ear, and I swatted there, twisting to replace no one present but me. Shivers spiraled down my spine, as I threw the door open. The corridor stood empty. Swinging my gaze left then right showed no one.

An object caught my attention, though. At the threshold of the door lay a crudely formed metal button with an iron cross etched into its flat surface. I stepped back and closed the door over the button, but it wouldn’t budge beyond the small bit of metal. Frowning harder, I opened the door again and bent to pick it up.

The voice arrived louder that time, as if someone were bent forward alongside me, and I jumped backward, slamming the door shut. The unintelligible sound echoed in my ear, not with the smooth cadence of a foreign language, but something strange and abrupt. Unsettling. Clutching the button, I backed away from the door and climbed into my bed, throwing the covers over top of me. Too rattled, I didn’t bother to secure my arm in the cuff, as I peeked out of the blankets toward the door, watching the light from the hallway flicker with the shadows.