Aurora’s P.O.V
A stillness settled, thick and suffocating. I could hear my own breathing, shallow and uneven.
"Come here," Mr. Hemming said, his tone now completely different—no longer the authoritative instructor but something else. Something worse.
My feet refused to move. I clutched the strap of my backpack, my fingers curling tightly around it as if it were my only lifeline.
"Aurora," he repeated, softer this time, but it sent an ice-cold shiver down my spine.
I forced myself to take one step forward. Then another. My instincts screamed at me to run, to bolt out of the room, but my body wouldn't listen. I was trapped, caught in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from.
Mr. Hemming walked around his desk, closing the distance between us. "You're struggling in my class," he murmure
