Gravewood High: The Prom King

Chapter 4: The Voice Inside

Marcus Trent knew something was wrong.

He’d known it since prom night, since the crown touched his head and the gym lights dimmed like the world was being swallowed whole. At first, it was just a pressure behind his eyes. A headache that wouldn’t fade. A feeling like someone was standing too close, breathing down his neck.

Now, it was a voice.

You were chosen.

Marcus sat alone in his bedroom, elbows on his knees, staring at his reflection in the darkened TV screen. His room looked the same trophies on the shelf, football posters on the walls but it felt unfamiliar, like he was visiting someone else’s life.

“Get out of my head,” he whispered.

The voice laughed. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

You wear the crown well. They listen to you. They always have.

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut. Images flooded his mind stone corridors, flickering torches, students kneeling in a circle. Symbols burned into the floor. A hand reaching out from the dark.

When he opened his eyes, his reflection was still smiling.

He wasn’t.

At school the next day, Marcus moved through the halls like a ghost. Conversations stopped when he passed. People stared. Not because he was Prom King but because something about him felt… off.

“Bro, you good?” one of his teammates asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

Marcus flinched.

For a moment, his vision blurred, and the hallway melted into stone walls. He smelled damp earth. Heard chanting.

Soon, the voice whispered.

He shoved past his friend and headed for the bathroom, locking himself in a stall. His hands shook as he pressed them to his temples.

“I won’t do it,” he hissed. “Whatever you want I won’t.”

Silence.

Then

You already have.

Evie noticed the change immediately.

Marcus didn’t sit with his friends at lunch. He didn’t joke, didn’t smile. He just stared at the table like he was counting something invisible. When he finally looked up, his gaze landed on her.

This time, he didn’t look away.

For a split second, Evie saw it fear. Real, human fear before it vanished behind a calm, empty expression.

That was all she needed.

After school, Evie returned to the tunnels.

This time, she went alone.

The air underground felt heavier than before, thick with whispered echoes. Her flashlight beam danced along the walls, illuminating symbols that seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking directly at them.

Her phone buzzed.

A text.

Marcus: You need to stop looking.

Her blood ran cold.

She hadn’t told anyone where she was going.

You shouldn’t be here, the voice echoed through the tunnel not spoken, but felt.

The flashlight flickered.

Behind her, footsteps sounded.

Slow. Deliberate.

And Marcus’ voice no longer entirely his own whispered from the darkness:

“Evie… the crown needs witnesses.”