Chosen to Survive (ONC2024)

Chapter 4

Oakley's POV

Every day in the library now feels like I'm walking through a mist I can't shake the unease sensation of being watched, an unseen presence that trails me as I moves among the stacks and shelves of Crestwood Heights Library.

"Another day, another mystery," I mutter to myself, trying to inject some levity into the morning routine. The attempt falls flat, swallowed by the silence that wraps around me like a cold embrace.

As I sort through the returns, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It's become a familiar feeling, this prickling sense of eyes boring into me. I spin around, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of something, anything. But as always, there's nothing there—just rows upon rows of books, silent witnesses to my growing paranoia.

"Okay, Oakley, get it together," I whisper under my breath. Talking to myself has become a habit, a way to fill the silence, to remind myself I'm not entirely alone. Even if, in a way, I wish I were.

The day drags on, punctuated by brief interactions with patrons that offer temporary respite from the unease. "Can you help me find a book on local history?" a teenager asks, pulling me back into the role I know so well.

"Of course, right this way," I reply, grateful for the distraction. As I lead him to the section, I can't help but glance over my shoulder, the feeling of being followed as persistent as ever.

The hours tick by, marked by the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional creak of the old building settling. I'm shelving books in a far corner when I hear it—a whisper, soft and insidious, brushing against my ear.

"Who's there?" I call out, heart racing, my voice echoing slightly in the quiet of the library. No answer, just the faint sound of my own breathing, too loud in the oppressive silence.

I resume my task, trying to convince myself it was just my imagination. But the whispers come again, closer this time, a murmured dialogue I can't quite catch. My skin crawls with the sensation of unseen fingers grazing my back.

"I'm not afraid of you," I say, louder now, defiance tinged with a fear I can't quite hide. The lie rings hollow in the vast, shadow-filled space of the library.

The evening draws in, the last rays of sunlight fading from the large windows. I should leave, lock up and escape to the safety of my home. But a part of me needs to know, to confront whatever haunts the edges of my perception.

I'm walking through the stacks, the weight of the unseen gaze heavy upon me, when it happens. A cold rush, like a breath of winter air, passes through me. I stagger, a gasp escaping my lips as books tumble from the shelves around me, guided by an invisible hand.

The room spins, the edges of my vision darkening as I fight to stay conscious. "No, not now," I plead, my voice barely a whisper as I collapse to the floor, the world fading to black.

When awareness returns, it's with a jolt, like being pulled from deep water into the harsh light of day. But the library around me is shrouded in shadows, more oppressive than before. I push myself up, a sense of wrongness permeating my very being.

I stand, the silence oppressive, the whispers now gone, replaced by a clarity of purpose I've never felt before. "So it begins," I hear myself say, the words not entirely my own, filled with a power that terrifies as much as it thrills.

The horror of my situation settles in, the realization that I am no longer alone in my own mind. Something else has taken root, a presence that has waited long in the darkness for its chance to awaken.

And as I stand in the dim light of the library, a place of knowledge turned prison, I understand the true nature of the horror that has claimed me. It's not just the unseen that we should fear, but the moment it steps into the light, changing everything it touches.

"So it begins," I repeat, the words a harbinger of the darkness to come.

Zoe's POV

I never thought the halls of Crestwood Heights High could feel so menacing. But tonight, they do. I came back to grab my forgotten notebook, thinking I might catch Mr. Henderson before he left. What I saw instead... it wasn't him. Not the Mr. Henderson I know.

He was on the floor, whispering words that felt like ice down my spine. "So it begins," he said, but the voice wasn't his. It was something else, something dark. I wanted to run to him, but my legs wouldn't move. I was scared, more scared than I've ever been at home, even on Dad's worst nights.

When Mr. Henderson's head snapped up, looking around like he sensed me there, I knew I had to leave. I turned and ran, not stopping until I was out of the school, the night air hitting me like a slap. The streets of Crestwood are empty, like the town itself is holding its breath.

I can't go home. Not now. Dad's probably in one of his moods, and after what I just saw, I can't face him. The town is different at night, like it's hiding secrets in every shadow. My heart keeps racing, and I jump at every little sound.

"I just need to keep moving," I tell myself, my voice sounding small and shaky. But where to? I end up walking without direction, each step taking me further into the night, away from the school, away from Oakley and whatever happened to him.

The streets blur together, and before I know it, I'm at the edge of town, facing the woods. They look so dark, like they could swallow me whole. Part of me wants to hide there, away from Dad, away from everything. But another part is terrified of what might be waiting in that darkness.

"Zoe, don't be stupid," I whisper, but the woods don't seem to care. They're just there, silent and watching. I glance back towards town, but it feels like a different world now. I'm alone, really alone.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill. I should be cold, but it's not just the night air that's making me shiver. It's the fear, the kind that feels like it's seeping into your bones.

I end up sitting on the ground, my back against a tree just outside the woods. I'm not brave enough to go in, but too scared to move back towards the lights of Crestwood. "This is all some bad dream," I murmur, but the words feel empty.

I don't know how long I sit there, lost in my thoughts, jumping at shadows. Eventually, the adrenaline fades, leaving me numb and exhausted. I lean my head back against the tree, closing my eyes for just a moment.

But sleep doesn't come. How can it, when every sound makes me think of Mr. Henderson's voice, twisted and wrong? Or when every rustle of leaves might be something coming for me? I thought I knew Crestwood Heights, but tonight, it feels like a place full of monsters.

And I'm just waiting for them to find me.

1,201 words