CHAPTER 24
The next night, the campus was cloaked in that peculiar hush that only comes when students are pretending not to be afraid. Nobody wanted to be the one out after dark anymore—not after Manny, not after the whispers. Even the cult boys walked in pairs.
I wore black jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers with soft soles. I left my bag behind and only carried what I needed: the flashlight, the red tape wrapped tight around my wrist, the smallest screwdriver, and Manny’s notebook folded into the back pocket of my jeans like a map leading straight to hell.
Block C stood quiet against the sky. The building was older than most on campus, a concrete box with mildew streaking the walls and a single broken CCTV camera near the main entrance. It tilted down like a blind eye that had once watched
