Pounding footsteps chased me down the corridor—her relentless stride echoing off the walls. I barreled around a corner, lungs burning, heart hammering. Every muscle screamed to keep running. It looks like I can't leave the school. If I step outside, the loop resets.
Windows shimmered at the ends of hallways, but each time I reached one, the world beyond curled into gray mist. It wasn't real—it was a cruel echo of freedom. A windowpane to nothing.
"Where are you?" I gasped between frantic strides, voice shaky and raw.
Think, Ethan. Think!
My foot caught on a loose floor tile, and I pitched forward, palms skidding across the linoleum. Pain flared white-hot across my hands. I bit back a scream and scrambled to my feet, knee throbbing from the fall. The corridor stretched ahead, distorted by flickering lights and wavering shadows.
I spotted an overturned janitor's cart—cleaning supplies spilled like casualties of war. Mop heads, rags, and plastic bottles littered the ground. I hesitated. Bleach? No. That wouldn't stop her. But maybe...
I grabbed a broom handle and a bottle of ammonia, more out of desperation than logic, and limped forward, scanning every doorway like prey in a predator's territory.
An art supply closet stood halfway open. I dove inside, heart pounding, and shut the door behind me. The scent of turpentine and dried paint clung to the air. Shelves overflowed with forgotten tools and supplies. My hand closed around a thick stainless steel rod—part of a dismantled easel.
It felt solid in my grip. A fragile sense of control.
I crept back into the hallway, every nerve in my body strung tight. The lights above twitched. Shadows seemed to slither when I wasn't looking.
A classroom door creaked open ahead. I froze. Inside, a single desk chair stood crooked at the center of the room. On the desk lay a sealed envelope. A name was scrawled on it—blurred, unreadable.
Against better judgment, I stepped inside and picked it up. Inside: a crumpled photo of a forest path and the words: Don't follow her into the woods.
"What the hell does that mean?" I whispered, my voice sounding far too loud in the empty room.
I backed away, returning to the corridor. The emergency lights flickered again, washing the walls in unstable light. I reached the gym corridor. Muddy footprints stretched into the gloom, too large to be mine. Too deliberate.
I slipped inside the locker room. It reeked of rust and mildew. Rows of dented lockers stood silent like sentinels. I opened one after another. Most were empty. One held only a shredded coat.
"Okay," I muttered. "Okay, think."
I gritted my teeth, pushing the panic down. She's in here somewhere. She's always in here.
Back in the hallway, I started counting the flickers of the emergency light by the exit. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Always five.
A pattern. Something I could use.
I paced slowly, syncing my steps with the flashes.
"One... two... three..."
Nothing.
"Where are you?" I whispered again, this time almost pleading.
The silence was crushing. I turned down a side hallway, deeper into the school's warped belly. My shoes squeaked against the tile. Broken glass littered the floor beneath shattered trophy cases. I glimpsed my reflection—pale, wide-eyed, the picture of someone unraveling.
My breath fogged in front of me. The air had grown colder. Too cold.
"She's close," I murmured.
Still no footsteps. No dragging. No coat brushing tile.
Just quiet.
I ducked back into the art room. The emergency bulb flickered—six times this time. I clutched the steel rod tighter.
Back out into the hall. The corridor stretched on, empty in both directions.
"Where are you?" I said, louder now.
My voice bounced off the walls, echoing back at me like a mockery.
Then—I heard it. A whisper of movement. Not near. But not far.
I turned, rod ready.
And there—just at the edge of the hall's bend—something moved. Not a full silhouette. Just the edge of a hat. A swish of black fabric.
"She's here," I breathed.
The light above me flickered once... twice...
And she was gone.
I stood rooted to the floor. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
"She's playing with me," I whispered.
The corridor fell silent again. But I knew this wasn't over. My lungs burned as I let the silence settle back in—an emptiness more terrifying than any footsteps. The echo of her presence lingered in the stale air, a cold reminder that she was always one heartbeat away. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, realizing how alone I truly was in this endless maze.
I pressed my palm to the wall, tracing the faint ridges of peeling paint as if it could guide me back to reality. Questions flooded every inch of my mind: Was there a way to break the pattern? A hidden key somewhere in these endless halls? If she could reset the world around me, could I bend it to my will?
With a final, shuddering breath, I straightened my shoulders and squared my grip on the steel rod. The fear still pulsed through my veins