When We Were Eighteen

CHAPTER SIX AND SEVEN

The courtyard buzzed with laughter.

Students walked past with backpacks slung over their shoulders, chatting as if nothing had happened.

To everyone else, it was just another evening at St. Victoria’s Academy.

To Amelia…

It felt like she’d escaped a nightmare.

She leaned against the cold concrete bench, struggling to steady her breathing.

Oliver stood a few feet away, staring toward the dark outline of the East Wing.

His chest rose and fell with every shaky breath.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them knew where to begin.

Finally, Amelia broke the silence.

“…Who were they?”

Oliver didn’t answer.

She stood, ignoring the ache in her legs.

“I almost got attacked because of whatever is happening.”

Still nothing.

Her frustration boiled over.

“No more half-truths, Oliver.”

He closed his eyes.

“I know.”

“You keep saying you’ll explain.”

“I know.”

“But you never do.”

Oliver ran a hand through his hair before sitting on the edge of the fountain.

For the first time since she’d met him…

He looked exhausted.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

“As a child,” he began quietly, “I believed St. Victoria’s was the safest place in the world.”

Amelia remained silent.

“My parents both graduated from this school. They wanted me to follow in their footsteps.”

He gave a bitter laugh.

“I was proud when I became Head Boy.”

“So what changed?”

Oliver looked at the academy buildings.

“The East Wing.”

The words hung heavily between them.

“When I was sixteen, four of us accidentally discovered something we were never supposed to find.”

Amelia’s heartbeat quickened.

“The photograph…”

Oliver nodded.

“That’s us.”

“The other three?”

“They were my closest friends.”

“Were?”

A shadow crossed his face.

“They all left.”

“Transferred?”

He swallowed.

“…No.”

Before Amelia could ask another question, Oliver’s phone buzzed.

Both of them froze.

A message flashed across the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

She knows enough. Stop talking.

Oliver’s face was drained of color.

Amelia grabbed the phone.

Another message arrived almost instantly.

Look behind you.

Every instinct screamed at her not to.

Slowly…

She turned.

Across the courtyard, beneath an old oak tree, stood a student wearing the St. Victoria’s uniform.

The student’s hood was pulled low, hiding their face.

For a single second…

They simply stood there.

Watching.

Then they smiled.

Not a friendly smile.

A smile that made Amelia’s stomach twist.

The figure slipped an envelope onto a nearby bench and walked away before either of them could react.

Oliver sprinted across the courtyard.

By the time he reached the bench…

The stranger had disappeared.

Only the envelope remained.

Across the front, written in elegant black handwriting, were five words.

For Amelia Bennett. Open Alone.

Oliver stared at it.

“I’m coming with you.”

Amelia shook her head.

“It says to open it alone.”

“What if it’s dangerous?”

“What if that's the answer?”

She took the envelope before he could stop her.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow.”

“Amelia…”

She offered a faint smile.

“I’ll be careful.”

Oliver wasn’t convinced.

As she walked toward the girls’ boarding house, he stayed where he was, watching until she disappeared inside.

Only then did he look back at the East Wing.

A faint light glowed from one of its top-floor windows.

Someone was standing there.

Watching him.

That night…

Long after Chloe had fallen asleep, Amelia locked her dorm room door.

She placed the envelope on her desk.

Her fingers trembled as she broke the seal.

Inside…

There was only one item.

A newspaper clipping.

Its headline read:

ST. VICTORIA’S STUDENT DIES IN EAST WING ACCIDENT

The article was eight years old.

Tucked behind it was a handwritten note.

Oliver Hayes didn’t tell you everything.

He was there the night someone died.

Amelia’s eyes widened.

She looked toward her bedroom window.

Someone was standing outside in the darkness.

Watching her.

The figure slowly raised one finger…

And tapped the glass.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

………

Suddenly, the handle turned again. Not a rattle this time, but a slow, deliberate rotation. The click of the mechanism unlocking echoed through the room like a gunshot. The handle turned all the way down. The click of the mechanism unlocking was loud, heavy, and final.Amelia stopped breathing. She braced herself for the door to fling wide, for the beam of a flashlight to cut through the dark and expose them. Beside her, Oliver’s body went completely rigid. He stepped slightly in front of her, his broad shoulders cutting off what little view she had of the doorway, shielding her.But the door didn't open.Outside, the heavy wood remained flush against the frame. There was no rush of air, no sudden intrusion. Instead, a low, scraping sound dragged across the tile directly on the other side of the metal panel. It sounded like someone leaning their full weight against the outside of the door, sliding down until they were sitting right against it.Blocking the exit. Keeping them trapped inside.The silence that followed was suffocating. The intruder was just inches away, separated from them by a single sheet of metal, waiting in the dark.The immediate terror of a physical confrontation began to mutate. The adrenaline, with nowhere to go, pooled hot and heavy in Amelia's stomach. The pitch blackness amplified every single sense. She couldn't see Oliver, but she could feel him. The intense, radiating heat of his body was the only source of warmth in the freezing concrete room.Oliver shifted, turning his head back toward her. In the absolute dark, his lips brushed the sensitive skin of her temple. It was an accident born of the tight space, but it sent a violent shiver straight down her spine."Amelia," he breathed, a ghost of a whisper against her ear. His voice was ragged, completely unraveled by the fear and the sheer proximity."I'm here," she whispered back.His hand, still slick with sweat, slid up her arm. His fingers were trembling, searching for reassurance, but when they reached her neck, his pulse was hammering just as fast as hers. The terror of the photograph, the crossed-out faces, the threat sitting just outside the door all blurred into a desperate, feral need for life. For connection. To feel anything other than the cold certainty of being hunted.Oliver’s grip tightened, pulling her flush against his chest. The hard lines of his body pressed into hers, erasing the space between them."If this is it..." Oliver muttered, his voice breaking under the weight of a secret he still couldn't tell her."It's not," she cut him off, her hand reaching up to find the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. The fear was making her bold, driving her forward. "Oliver, look at me. Don't think about them."He didn't answer with words. In the dark, his mouth found hers.The moment was heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, a frantic response to the cold reality of the situation. It was a desperate attempt to find grounding in the middle of a nightmare. Oliver’s presence was a shield, his breathing ragged as they stood huddled against the row of lockers. The metal behind Amelia felt freezing, a sharp contrast to the adrenaline fueled tension radiating between them.They stood frozen in that small space, every heartbeat echoing like a drum in the silence. The proximity was overwhelming, a reminder of the life they were trying so hard to protect. Every muffled sound from the other side of the door made them draw closer, anchoring themselves to one another as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours. They were caught in a fragile bubble of safety, knowing that a single misplaced breath could shatter it.Then, a sudden, sharp sound cut through the darkness.Beep. Beep. Beep.Inside the pocket of Oliver's jacket, his phone lit up. The harsh blue glare cut through the black room, illuminating their startled faces and wide, terrified eyes. On the screen, a new text message flashed from an unknown number.Before either of them could move to silence it, the shadow at the bottom of the locker room door shifted. From the other side of the metal, a heavy, metallic object began to slide slowly underneath the gap.The harsh blue light from the phone screen reflected off the sweat on Oliver’s forehead. The metallic object slid completely through the gap under the door, stopping with a soft clink against the concrete floor.It was a key. A heavy, rusted iron key.Amelia didn't look at the key. She looked at the text message still glowing on Oliver's phone.Turn around.A cold dread, far sharper than the initial adrenaline, pierced through her chest. Slowly, agonizingly, they both turned their heads away from the main door.In the back corner of the locker room, behind the final row of rusted showers, a faint orange glow began to pulse. A heavy metal hatch in the floor one Amelia had never noticed before was slowly swinging upward from the inside.The sound of wet, dragging footsteps echoed up from the dark hole.The intruder wasn't waiting outside the door anymore. They were already inside.