Chapter 4
1043 Words
Wren’s body moved before her mind could catch up.
“Lily!”
Her voice echoed through the empty science building.
No answer.
The heavy door creaked shut behind her with a dull thud, making her jump. She reached back instinctively, relieved when the handle turned easily beneath her hand. At least she wasn’t trapped.
The corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by a handful of flickering fluorescent lights. Unlike the rest of Kingsley, this building felt… forgotten.
Dust coated the windows.
Several classroom doors were chained shut.
Sheets covered old laboratory equipment like ghosts waiting in silence.
“Lily?” Wren called again, quieter this time.
Nothing.
Only the faint hum of electricity.
Tap.
A sound echoed somewhere upstairs.
Wren looked toward the staircase.
Her common sense screamed at her to leave.
Instead, she climbed.
Each step groaned beneath her weight.
The second floor was colder.
The air smelled faintly of bleach and old paper.
The silence pressed against her ears until she became painfully aware of every sound she made.
Somewhere farther down the corridor, water dripped steadily onto the tiled floor.
Then came another noise, a soft scrape, as if a chair had been dragged across the ground. Wren stopped walking. The sound stopped too.
She waited, holding her breath, but nothing followed.
Just as she convinced herself it had been the old building settling, a locker door slammed somewhere beyond the corridor.
The sharp bang echoed through the empty floor, followed by what sounded unmistakably like hurried footsteps retreating into the darkness.
Halfway down the corridor, she noticed a classroom door standing slightly open.
A thin strip of light spilled into the hallway.
She pushed the door wider.
The room was empty.
Desks stood in perfect rows.
A chalkboard covered one wall.
Nothing unusual…
Until she noticed a chair lying on its side.
Beside it was a notebook.
She picked it up.
The cover bore the Kingsley crest.
Inside, every page had been torn out.
Except the last.
Scrawled across it in hurried handwriting were five words.
Some secrets choose their victims.
A chill ran through her.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the classroom was swallowed by darkness.
Wren froze.
Her breathing became the loudest sound in the room.
Three seconds later, the lights buzzed back to life.
The notebook was gone.
She blinked.
She had been holding it.
Hadn’t she?
Her hands were empty.
“What…”
A sharp bang echoed from the hallway.
She spun around.
Nothing.
The corridor was deserted.
Wren hurried outside, refusing to look back until she reached the courtyard.
The warm evening air hit her face.
She hadn’t realized how hard she was breathing.
You’re going to get yourself killed.
She whirled around.
Kai Reznik stood several feet away, one hand tucked into his pocket.
His expression was unreadable.
What are you doing here? Wren demanded.
I could ask you the same question.
I asked first.
He ignored that.
You shouldn’t be inside that building after hours.
Why?
You ask too many questions.
Why don’t you just answer?
For the first time, something almost resembling amusement crossed his face.
Fair enough.
Wren folded her arms.
I heard someone scream.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I know what I heard.”
Kai stepped closer.
“So do I.”
The confidence in his voice unsettled her.
If you heard it too, then why aren’t you doing something?
Because running toward every strange noise at Kingsley is a good way to disappear.
His words landed heavily between them.
Disappear.
Not get expelled.
Not get into trouble.
Disappear.
Before Wren could ask what he meant, a teacher appeared at the far end of the courtyard.
“Kai.”
The teacher’s voice held an odd mixture of respect and caution.
We’ve been looking for you.
Kai didn’t immediately respond.
His eyes remained on Wren.
Go back to your dorm.
I’m not taking orders from you.
“No.”
His expression hardened.
You’re taking advice.
Without another word, he walked away with the teacher.
Wren noticed something strange.
The teacher wasn’t leading Kai.
He was walking beside him.
Almost as if they were equals.
That night, Lily returned to the dorm just before lights-out.
She looked exhausted.
There was dirt on the hem of her skirt.
A fresh bruise darkened the side of her neck, barely visible beneath her hair.
Wren stood from her desk.
Where were you?
The library.
You hate the library.
I changed my mind.
“Lily.”
I’m tired.
You disappeared.
I said I was in the library.
You weren’t.
Lily’s shoulders tensed.
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Lily sat on the edge of her bed and quietly asked,
“Wren…”
If someone warned you to stop looking for something…
“…would you?”
No.
Lily gave a sad little smile.
I knew you’d say that.
She reached beneath her pillow and pulled out an old newspaper clipping.
Its edges were yellow with age.
Without a word, she handed it to Wren.
The headline read:
FORMER KINGSLEY STUDENT DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT.
There was no photograph.
No details.
Just a name.
Emily Carter.
Wren looked up.
“I thought she transferred.
“So did everyone else.”
“What does this mean?”
Lily opened her mouth to answer.
A knock interrupted them.
Three slow knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Both girls froze.
The knocks were identical to the ones from the previous night.
Neither of them moved.
After several long seconds, a folded piece of black paper slid beneath the door.
Silence returned.
Lily’s face had gone completely white.
“Don’t touch it,” she whispered.
Wren ignored her.
She walked to the door and picked up the paper.
It wasn’t a letter.
It was a photograph.
A recent one.
Taken somewhere on campus.
It showed Wren standing alone outside the science building earlier that evening.
Someone had been watching her.
On the back, written in neat black ink, were six chilling words.
You’re asking the wrong questions, Wren.
She stared at the message.
Then slowly turned the photograph over again.
In the background…
Barely visible through one of the science building’s upstairs windows…
Was the blurred silhouette of a girl.
Watching her.
And the silhouette looked exactly like Lily.
- Writer
