The doors were locked from the inside. 

Someone was trapped. 

The security cameras crackled with static, then went dark. One by one, the monitors in the control room fell silent, leaving behind a hollow quiet. That's when the call came—urgent, shaky, tinged with fear. 

Professor Arnold gripped his phone tighter as he listened. 

A classroom. A locked door. No answers from inside. Worse, pieces of the security footage were missing. Erased. 

He'd just left a late faculty meeting when the call came. Fatigue weighed him down, but the principal's orders left no room for delay. 

The hallway was dim as he walked, his footsteps echoing on the polished floor. The school was quiet at this hour—too quiet. 

Not peaceful. 

Waiting. 

A cold shiver ran down his spine as he neared the classroom. Nothing seemed wrong—no flickering lights, no signs of a fight. Then— 

A noise. 

Faint. Warped. A whisper curled through the empty hall, slipping into the air like a voice that shouldn't exist. 

Arnold froze, glancing at his phone. He dialed the principal, muttering about the eerie sound as he grabbed the door handle. 

It wouldn't move. 

Suddenly, Professor Alex emerged from a nearby classroom, a bag on his shoulder. 

He stopped, eyeing Arnold's struggle. "Problem?" 

Arnold let out a frustrated breath. "Locked from the inside." 

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Alex stepped closer, brow furrowed. Together, they shoved the door, shaking it hard—but it didn't give. 

Meanwhile, security updates began to arrive. The cameras had shut off at an alarmingly precise moment—right as students were gathering their things to leave. Even stranger, chunks of footage from earlier that afternoon were missing. Vanished. Like someone had deleted them on purpose. 

As Arnold and Alex wrestled with the locked door, three students—Bella, Joseph, and Noah—raced down the hallway. 

"Where's Dante?" Bella asked, her voice edged with panic. 

Then—

 A sharp click. 

The door didn't just open—it flew inward, ripping free with a force that knocked both professors to the floor. The hallway seemed to tilt, the air itself suddenly heavy. 

Then the smell flooded their senses. 

Thick. Metallic. Choking. 

Blood. 

Noah hauled the professors up while Joseph slapped the light switch. 

A collective gasp. 

Bella froze, her hand flying to her mouth. 

The walls— 

Smeared with red. 

Ragged streaks of blood stretched across the room, as if something had been thrashing, fighting. And there, at the back of the classroom, was Dante. 

Motionless. 

His neck bent at a sickening angle, hair crusted with blood. A wooden desk lay shattered beside him—its edges splintered, as if it had been hurled at his head. 

Over. 

And over. 

And over. 

The jagged splinters of wood stuck out of his skin like claws. Dante's body was ghostly white—unnaturally pale. 

Bella stumbled toward him, her legs shaking under her. 

"Dante…?" 

The name came out as a whisper, ragged and weak. 

She reached for him, then jerked her hand back at the icy touch of his skin. 

Professor Alex acted fast. He scooped Dante up, blood staining his sleeves. "We need to go to the hospital—NOW!" 

Arnold, still unsteady, snapped at the students: "Go Back to your Dorms. Now." 

Joseph and Noah dragged Bella back as she crumpled against them, crying into their shoulders. 

She didn't look back. 

She didn't see the shadows in the corner of the room writhe and swell. 

She didn't feel the air turn dense, like the world itself was holding its breath. 

She didn't see it. 

But it saw her. And it smiled. 

The faculty meeting was charged with tension. Questions flew like knives: 

"How did this happen? Why was Dante alone? Who erased the footage?" 

No answers. The security team denied everything. The teachers stayed silent. 

But dread hung in the air, sticky and sour. Whatever had done this wasn't done yet. 

When the meeting ended, Arnold and the principal lingered in the dim lounge. The air felt wrong—thick, syrupy. The lights buzzed, flickered once, then glowed steady. 

Then— 

A whisper. 

Arnold froze. 

Something sat on a desk ahead—legs swinging, head cocked. 

Its grin stretched impossibly wide, splitting the corners of its mouth like cracked leather. Its eyes were voids—black, endless. 

Watching. Smiling.

Arnold's chest tightened, breath trapped in his throat. The principal choked out a noise, stumbling backward. 

The lights flickered again— 

And it vanished.