CHAPTER SIX — After Prep
1352 Words
By the time prep ended, my heartbeat had been thumping like a drum inside my chest for a whole hour. I couldn’t read. I couldn’t focus. Every shadow looked like it wanted to whisper my name.
Rita kept watching me like a hawk.
“You’re not going,” she said for the tenth time. “If you go, I’m following you.”
“No,” I said quietly. “She said I should come alone.”
“And you’re just listening to her?” Rita whispered loudly. “Hallie, that girl is strange. Everybody says she carries that ugly notebook like it's the Bible.”
I sighed. “Please, just… cover for me.”
Rita stared at me like I was betraying her personally. Then she exhaled sharply.
“Fine. But if you don’t come back in twenty minutes, I’m dragging the whole hostel to find you.”
Her voice cracked a little. That scared me more than the meeting.
For the rest of prep, I kept glancing at the clock every three seconds like my eyes were glued to it. My leg wouldn’t stop shaking under the table. Each time someone coughed or dropped a pen, I jumped. It felt like the whole world was waiting for me to stand up and walk into something I wasn’t ready for. Even the ceiling fans sounded louder than normal, spinning like they were counting down to something I didn’t understand yet.
Prep ended, and girls stretched, yawned, and rushed out of the hall. I walked slowly, blending into the crowd until I slipped away and took the narrow path behind the labs.
Every time my sandals touched the ground, a tiny crunch echoed off the walls. I kept looking back to see if Rita changed her mind and followed me, but the path was empty. The further I walked, the quieter everything got until even my breathing felt too loud for the darkness around me. The air behind the labs always had this strange heaviness, like secrets were buried there.
The back of the computer lab was always quiet. Too quiet.
I remembered the seniors telling us during orientation week never to come here alone. I’d laughed back then, thinking it was just one of those senior-scare tactics. But now, standing here with the moonlight barely touching the edge of the wall, I understood why they said it. Places like this felt wrong when you stood still long enough — like they were waiting for something to step out when no one was looking.
The school generator hummed nearby, the only sound in the dark. The light from the lab windows didn’t reach this far, so everything behind the building looked like one big shadow waiting to swallow someone.
I hugged myself and stepped closer.
“Tomi?” I whispered.
No answer.
My heart started racing. I checked my watch. 7:31.
“Tomi, I’m here.”
A soft voice came from the darkness. “Why are you shouting?”
I almost jumped out of my skin.
She stepped forward, the dim moonlight catching the edge of her badge and the corner of her notebook.
There was always something unsettling about how quietly Tomi moved. Even now, she seemed almost part of the shadows behind her, like the darkness didn’t mind making space for her. The notebook against her chest looked older under the moonlight — torn edges, wrinkled pages, faint ink that looked like it had been rewritten too many times.
That same battered, scribbled-on notebook that felt older than her.
“You’re late,” she said.
“It’s one minute,” I muttered.
“Exactly. One minute can change everything in that dorm.”
Her tone was so serious I forgot how to breathe.
She leaned against the wall. “Before we start… I need you to answer something honestly. What exactly did you see on your first night?”
“I didn’t see anything,” I lied too quickly.
Tomi raised one eyebrow. “Hallie… I’ve seen enough juniors lie to know when one is doing it badly.”
I swallowed.
“What did you see?” she repeated, softer.
I hesitated, then whispered, “Someone was crying.”
The memory made my skin crawl. That cry hadn’t sounded human at first — it was broken, like someone holding pain in their throat so it wouldn’t spill out. And the worst part? The moment I’d leaned closer to my bunk window to listen, the crying had stopped instantly, as if whoever was making the sound knew I was awake.
Tomi didn’t react. Not shocked. Not confused. Just… confirming.
“And?” she asked.
“And… something was written in a file. About two Halimas not staying.”
She closed her eyes like she already expected that answer.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Then we don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?” I asked shakily.
She opened her notebook wide this time. Names. Dates. Drawings. Notes.
Crossed-out names.
Girls who had lived in Dorm 7.
Some names had tiny notes beside them — little symbols, arrows, scribbles that didn’t look like a student wrote them. One had a question mark. Another had the word move scratched so hard it tore through the page. My eyes kept going back to the crossed-out ones; the ink was so dark it looked angry. It was obvious Tomi wasn’t doing this for fun. She had been tracking something for a long, long time.
Only one name wasn’t crossed out.
Halima.
Not mine.
The 2014 one.
Tomi tapped the page. “This is why I called you. You’re not the first Halima that dorm has… reacted to.”
My stomach twisted.
“Tomi… what happened to her?”
The wind blew hard, shaking the dry mango leaves above us.
A dog barked somewhere behind the fence, sharp and desperate. It didn’t sound like a normal bark — more like the kind animals make when they sense something humans can’t. Goosebumps spread across my arms. Even the generator seemed to hesitate for a second, its loud hum dipping like it shivered.
The generator hummed louder.
Tomi looked me straight in the eye.
“She didn’t disappear the way the school tells it.”
I felt my throat tighten. “Then how?”
She stepped even closer.
“She was taken.”
Every part of my body went cold. The word didn’t feel dramatic or exaggerated the way students usually told stories. It felt factual. Heavy. Final. Tomi’s eyes didn’t blink once as she said it, and that scared me more than the word itself. She wasn’t guessing. She wasn’t exaggerating.
She knew.
My breath froze.
“Taken by what?” I whispered.
Tomi shut her notebook slowly, like sealing a secret.
“That’s what I need to show you.”
She pointed toward the path leading to the fence behind the labs.
“Come with me. And don’t scream.”
My legs refused to move.
“Tomi…” I whispered. “I don’t think—”
She looked over my shoulder suddenly.
“Someone is coming.”
My heart nearly burst.
“Quick,” she whispered urgently, grabbing my wrist. “Unless you want them to know you’re asking questions.”
Footsteps approached from the front of the labs. A torchlight beam flashed across the wall.
Tomi pulled me deeper behind the building, into the darker shadows.
“Stay still,” she breathed.
I pressed against the wall, heartbeat hammering, Rita’s warning echoing in my head.
The footsteps got closer until I could hear the person breathing lightly, like they were trying not to make noise. The torchlight beam slid across the sand beside my foot, and I held my breath so tightly my chest hurt. If they just turned their head slightly, they would see us. I prayed silently, begging whatever was in the shadows with us to stay quiet, just for a moment longer.
And in the silence, one question screamed louder than everything:
If Tomi wanted to help…
Then who in the school didn’t want me to know the truth?
- Writer
