This Place Will Become Your Tomb

Hypnosis

The cafeteria was buzzing with the usual Monday morning energy—an overwhelming mix of voices, clattering trays, and the muted drone of school life. Students moved in and out in a blur of color and noise, gathering in cliques at tables, chatting animatedly about their weekends, assignments, or the latest gossip.

But at the center of it all, sitting at a table by the window with an untouched tray of food in front of her, Sam Manson felt entirely out of sync with the world around her. Her usual black-clad, rebellious exterior did little to shield her from the sense of unease that had settled in her chest like a stone.

She absentmindedly pushed the cold food around on her plate, not really seeing it. Her mind was elsewhere—on the one person who was conspicuously absent from their usual table. Danny.

Her eyes flickered to the empty seat across from her, the space that had always been occupied by her best friend, and a knot tightened in her stomach. He hadn't shown up for school again. He hadn't even texted her back. That alone was enough to set off alarm bells in her head. Danny wasn't the type to just go silent, not like this. Not unless something was seriously wrong.

Sam knew, deep down, that something had been wrong for a while now. Weeks, maybe months. She had noticed the changes—the way he had become quieter, more distant. The way his smile no longer reached his eyes. The way he seemed to carry a weight that was far too heavy for anyone, let alone a teenage boy, to bear.

It was like he was slipping away, piece by piece, and no matter how hard she tried to reach him, he kept pulling further into himself. Into a place where she couldn't follow. A place that frightened her more than she cared to admit.

Tucker, sitting beside her and oblivious to her growing anxiety, was chatting excitedly about some new gadget he had been working on over the weekend, his tray of food already halfway gone. Sam barely registered his words, her mind too preoccupied with the empty seat across from her, the gnawing worry twisting in her gut.

"Sam?" Tucker's voice cut through her haze, drawing her attention back to the present. He was looking at her with raised eyebrows, clearly expecting a response to whatever it was he had just said.

She blinked, her mind struggling to catch up. "What?"

Tucker frowned, his mouth half-open as if he had been mid-sentence. "I was asking if you've seen Danny this morning. I haven't heard from him since last night."

That hit her like a punch to the chest. So, it wasn't just her. Danny hadn't responded to Tucker either. Sam's fingers tightened around the edge of her tray, the plastic creaking under the pressure.

"No," she said, her voice tight. "He hasn't texted me back."

Tucker's expression shifted, the lighthearted excitement draining from his face as concern crept in. He leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers against the table in thought. "That's weird. He's usually the one who texts us in the morning."

Sam nodded, her eyes drifting back to the empty seat. The unease that had been simmering in her chest all morning now felt like a full-blown alarm. Something was definitely wrong. And if Danny was shutting both of them out, it had to be bad.