Chapter two : Madness
1037 Words
The air in Saint Elora had changed.
It was subtle at first. The way conversations faded when Rocky entered a room. The way birds, once loud near the library courtyard, had stopped perching on the chapel cross. The way girls who once giggled about love now whispered about dreams that felt too real—too... scripted.
And then came the death.
Not of a person.
Of logic.
Kendi was no longer the flame that lit parties or strutted through campus in heels like runways were built beneath her. She had vanished for two days—no calls, no messages—before reappearing at chapel on a Wednesday morning dressed in all white, barefoot, her eyes dull like milk. When asked where she’d been, she smiled and said, “I saw it. I saw the center of it all.”
Rocky never flinched.
Linet watched from the back pew, heart thudding so loudly she feared it would echo through the stained-glass windows. She noticed Rocky that day didn’t sit near anyone. He stood near the bell tower, one hand brushing against the old iron rope, the other tucked in his coat pocket. When Kendi walked past him on her way out, she stopped—stared at him—and dropped to her knees.
She whispered something.
Rocky leaned down.
Whispered something back.
She laughed.
Then cried.
Then laughed again.
And walked away humming the same lullaby he had hummed weeks before.
The rope of the bell tower was slightly red that day. No one noticed.
Except Linet.
That night, Linet began dreaming in symbols. Crows, mirrors cracking, bleeding clocks. She woke up gasping with pages of her sociology notes torn apart. No memory of doing it.
She checked her phone.
No messages.
But there was a new app installed.
It had no name. Just a black icon.
When she opened it, her screen flashed once—then displayed a message:
"HE NEVER LEFT THE TOWER."
She uninstalled it instantly.
It reappeared the next day.
---
Meanwhile, Rocky grew popular in the strangest way.
Not with people. With their secrets.
People started confessing things to him—without knowing why. A girl named Sifa told him she once pushed her cousin into a well. A lecturer confessed he forged his credentials. A guard said he’d stolen a dead student’s phone and used it to text his own number, pretending the student was still alive.
Every confession ended the same way: with Rocky looking them in the eye and saying:
“You’re not broken. You’re just in tune.”
No one knew what that meant. But after he said it, they smiled like the weight of the world had been lifted. Then became distant. Obedient. Changed.
Linet watched it all happen. She wrote everything in a journal she locked beneath her mattress. She no longer trusted her mind. Sometimes, she’d find pages already filled when she hadn’t written them:
“He knows.”
“We’re part of something.”
“You’re not dreaming.”
She started sitting at the far end of lecture halls, avoiding Rocky’s gaze. But it didn’t matter. Every time she looked up—just once—he’d already be looking. With that half-smile. That predator’s patience.
And the dreams became worse.
---
On the 27th day since Rocky arrived, a first-year student named Brian was found in the basement of the art department. n***d. Eyes open. Staring at the ceiling.
He wasn’t dead.
But he wouldn’t speak.
Not even blink.
His fingernails were torn off, placed neatly on his chest like a puzzle.
The word “CHOICE” had been carved into his stomach with something thin. Surgical.
Security was summoned.
They asked questions.
Rocky was nearby.
As always.
He said he didn’t know Brian.
But Linet had seen them speak the day before. Brian had bumped into him in the hallway. Apologized. Rocky had smiled and said:
“There are no accidents.”
---
The Cult Theory
A rumour began spreading. Quiet at first, then louder.
That Rocky was starting something.
A group. A belief system. A following.
Some called it a cult.
Others called it “The Tune.”
They said people who joined saw the world differently—clearer. That they could predict events. That they stopped fearing death. That pain was no longer pain to them—just resonance.
Linet didn’t believe it.
Until Kendi left a note on her bed:
“I joined. Don’t follow me unless you’re ready to lose yourself. He’s not a person. He’s the rhythm under the floorboards.”
Linet cried that night.
Not for Kendi.
For herself.
Because part of her believed it too.
---
The Midnight Bell
Then came the event that broke everything.
At exactly midnight on a cold Saturday, the bell atop Saint Elora’s tower rang once.
Only once.
No wind. No hands pulling the rope.
Students ran out of dorms, confused, whispering, pointing.
Rocky was seen walking away from the tower barefoot, clothes wet, eyes glowing with something more than moonlight.
Linet followed him.
Not because she wanted to.
Because her feet moved without her permission.
He led her to the edge of the science field where the ground sloped into thick bamboo forest. He stood there, facing the trees, and whispered:
“This is where the music ends. And where the silence begins.”
Then he turned to her.
Smiled.
“You’ve been resisting,” he said.
“I have to,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Because I know you’re not real.”
He stepped forward, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of burnt roses.
“You think this is about me?” he asked.
Then reached into his pocket.
Pulled out her journal.
The one she had locked under her bed.
He opened it. Every page was filled.
All of it in her handwriting.
She hadn’t written any of it.
"You’ve always known," he said softly.
"You just forgot to remember."
---
The next morning, Linet woke up in her dorm.
The journal was on her chest.
Her hands were stained in ink.
And on the wall, in red letters, was a new message:
“CHAPTER THREE BEGINS WHEN YOU STOP BELIEVING IN SANITY.”
- Writer
