The words blurred as soon as I read them.
My breath caught in my throat. The hallway seemed to tilt. The lights suddenly felt too bright, the air too thin, and the distant echo of footfalls too loud, like a world spinning without me.
I read the sentence again. And again. It didn’t change. It never would.
My fingers shook as I folded the note, the paper crinkling like brittle bone. A part of me wanted to tear it to pieces, to pretend I’d never seen it. But another part, larger and heavier, knew it was too late.
This wasn’t just another threat.
This was personal.
I slid the note into my pocket and forced myself to breathe. I had to move. If I stood still, panic would root itself so deep inside me that I’d never claw my way free.
I left the hallway and stepped into the cold rain outsid
