Malem’s POV
By the time I reached the building, my body was shaking so hard I had to press my hand against the wall just to steady myself. My lungs burned from running, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. Michael’s words were still wrapped around me, his voice threaded into my bloodstream.
The passage leading up to my room smelled faintly of bleach, sharper than usual, and that alone set my nerves jangling. Too clean. Too scrubbed. As though someone wanted to erase traces of something I wasn’t supposed to see.
When I slid the key into the lock, I held my breath, half-hoping it would jam, half-dreading that it would open too easily. It turned with a soft click, and the door swung inward like an invitation I didn’t trust.
The air inside felt… wrong. Not violated in a dramatic way, but nud
