Something in the air shifted. No more than a faint, metallic whisper tracing along the lockers. My heart lurched. I froze, clench the rod with both hands. She's here.
I crept forward, every step measured. Emergency lights flickered overhead in their relentless five-beat rhythm. Shadows danced on the walls. one, two, three, four, five and I counted with them, syncing my breathing to the pulsing glow.
One… two… three… four… five.
I edged around the corner where the trophies gleamed: silver cups stained with dust, forgotten echoes of past victories. The humming lights threw my reflection across broken glass scattered on the floor, shivering fragments of me.
I crouched, whispering, "Where are you?"
Silence answered.
My instincts screamed at me to run, but I shook my head, gripping the rod tighter. Not again.
The whisper came again. Soft, urgent, like metal scraping tile. It slid past me, into the next hallway. I followed, heart pounding, boots squeaking.
A classroom door to my left swung open, revealing desks empty except for open notebooks and abandoned pencils. I paused, thought about ducking inside, maybe hiding. But I had to find her.
I stepped into the hallway. My fingers trembled around the rod's shaft. Every nerve felt alive and elastic tight.
A sudden crash echoed behind me, like a locker door slamming. I spun, breath catching. The corridor behind was empty, sterile.
"No," I said. "Not this time."
I squared my shoulders and moved on.
The corridor ended at a set of double doors leading to the courtyard. Through the glass panes, I saw nothing but gray emptiness. I tried the handle. Locked.
"Figures," I muttered.
I turned back and found myself facing a side corridor I hadn't noticed before. The paint on the walls was chipped, revealing older layers beneath ghostly silhouettes of doors long sealed.
Curiosity pried me forward. I picked a faded door marked "Storage" and nudged it open. Inside, rows of dusty shelves held janitorial supplies and broken desks. A single, half-deflated volleyball lay on the floor. I kicked it absentmindedly, and it rolled away into darkness.
The whisper echoed from somewhere deep inside the storage room. I followed its drift, stepping over a toppled bucket.
In the back, a pile of old curtains hung limply. I brushed past them. Cold fabric against my cheek. And found nothing but empty air.
I turned, rod raised, and nearly tripped over my own shadow.
And then, I gasped, breath snagging in my throat. She stood at the doorway—tall and terrible, framed in flickering light like a figure from a nightmare. Her hat cast her eyes in shadow, but I could feel them locked on me. The long coat draped from her shoulders whispered across the tile like it had a life of its own. She didn't move. She didn't need to. Her presence filled the room, thick and suffocating. My grip on the rod tightened, sweat slick on my palms, and my stomach twisted with the creeping certainty that this was no longer a chase. It was a reckoning.
My legs locked. For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Then I lunged, raising the rod. Fear propelled my wild swing, connecting with her side in a jarring thud. The rod buckled in my hands, jawing against bone-hard fabric.
She didn't make a sound.
Instead, she tilted her head. The flickering lights revealed a smear of red on her coat.
I stumbled back, heart hammering. Heat flooded my cheeks, tears stinging my eyes.
"Did I...did I hurt you?" I whispered.
No answer.
My courage faltered. This is insane. I'm just a kid.
I sank to my knees on the cold concrete, breath ragged. Around me, the storage room felt suddenly enormous. Its ceilings higher, its shadows deeper.
I gripped the rod, knuckles white. Images flashed: Mom's gentle voice calling me for breakfast, Dad's tired smile after work, Marisol's playful tease in the hallway. None of them felt real anymore.
I pushed myself up, rod trembling in hand. I had to finish this. I stood wobbly, every muscle screaming.
But when I turned back, she was gone.
I scanned the room, panicked. Curtains still swayed. Shelves stood still. The volleyball lay motionless.
I swallowed. "Where did you go?"
The silence was deafening.
I backed out of the storage room, rod flicking against the doorframe. The hallway stretched narrow and empty.
I followed the corridor back toward the main hall, limping on my wounded knee. Each step felt heavier.
At the intersection, I paused, pressing my palm to the wall. The metal rod vibrated faintly in my hand, as if it held a heartbeat of its own.
She's testing me.
My breathing steadied. The rod felt less like a weapon, more like a question. A challenge. Could I face her again?
A faint click echoed from a nearby door, the kind of sound that makes your spine shiver.
I turned, rod raised.
I opened the door to a classroom. door creaked open slowly. Before I could react, she was there. Her hand shot out, ghostly pale fingers wrapping around my shoulder. A surge of pain exploded through my arm with a wet, sickening pop. I cried out, stumbling as my whole arm twisted unnaturally at my side.
I fell to the floor in a heap, the rod clattering beside me. My breath came in ragged gasps as tears blurred my vision. Fire burned through my shoulder and down my back. I curled into a ball, clutching my arm against my chest. Sobs racked my body.
"AAAAAGH! STOP!" I screamed, the raw cry ripping from my throat with such force it echoed down the hallway. My voice cracked, wild with panic, and I sobbed uncontrollably, tears streaking hot trails down my face. Blood filled my mouth where I'd bitten my tongue, the metallic taste mixing with the sting of pain roaring through my body. My dislocated arm burned like it had been set on fire, the agony crashing over me in waves so strong I couldn't breathe. I kicked weakly, like a child throwing a tantrum against the inevitable, gasping and shrieking between sobs. "It hurts. it hurts, please!" I wailed, writhing on the floor, the pain owning every inch of me.
She loomed over me, silent and unmoving, her breath like a cold wind on my neck. Every instinct screamed to curl further away, but I couldn't move. Petrified with the pain and fear.