RUN

Chapter 11

The morning light crept through the blinds, and I awoke in my bunk, feeling disoriented and strange. The scariest part? Christina was asleep next to me. I rubbed my eyes, trying to piece together the night before. I glanced around the room—almost everyone I knew was here: Jack, Zack, Evan, Paul, Ally, Jane, Luke, Isa, and Will. We were still dressed in the same uniforms we'd worn yesterday. Something didn't feel right.

I wracked my brain, struggling to remember what had happened. Christina and I had been talking, then we walked into our room, but after that... nothing. Why was everyone here? And why did everything feel off?

A sudden touch on my back snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned quickly, and there she was—Christina, wide awake, smiling at me.

"Hey," she waved, looking far too relaxed for the situation.

I waved back, confused. She reached over and began to play with my hair.

"Your hair is so soft," she giggled, completely oblivious to the anxiety swirling inside me.

I stared at her, struggling to keep my composure. "Christina," I said cautiously, "what happened last night? We were... crying, and now you're acting like nothing happened. What's going on?"

She grabbed my face, pulling me closer, her eyes mischievous. "You have a huge nose," she teased, poking at it. Before I could protest, she was already off on another tangent.

"I need to get a doctor," I muttered, standing abruptly. I grabbed her hand, pulling her along as I searched for Paul. When I found him, he looked so peaceful, lying there like nothing was wrong. I didn't want to wake him, but something was off, and I needed answers. I glanced back at Christina, only to find her already asleep, standing up.

I checked the clock—5:14 AM. I laid her down beside Paul, making sure she was comfortable, then quickly returned to my bed. Somehow, lying there felt safer, more secure.

I woke again to a gentle tug on my shoulder. My eyes snapped open, only to be met with a chilling sight—everyone's eyes were on me. I sat up, panic rising in my chest, as I looked around. The others were following me, all of them moving in unison. But something was wrong. Their clothes were torn, their skin darkened, as though something invisible was burning them from the inside out. The change was happening fast.

I turned to Jack. His eyes, once calm and blue, were now a frantic swirl of color. I could hardly look away.

Suddenly, the lights flickered. First, they went dark. Then, they returned, but it wasn't the same.

Christina and Paul were dead. The room spun as the lights blinked on and off, casting harsh shadows across the bodies of my friends. The flickering light revealed more horrors—everyone else, lying motionless on the ground with knives in their chests. Except for Will. He was walking toward me, his movements unnatural, like a puppet with its strings cut.

I ran, my heart pounding in my chest, but he followed me, relentless. My footsteps echoed through the hall, but there was nowhere to go. I turned a corner and found myself face to face with a wall. Will's heavy breathing filled the space between us, and then he collapsed.

But before he fell silent, he muttered something—his voice strained, but distinct. "Mel."

I knelt beside him, my heart racing. His eyes were closed, but his lips kept moving, saying the same word over and over: "Mel." It didn't make sense. Why was he saying that?

I took out my phone, turned on the flashlight, and scanned his body. I didn't find anything until I reached his chest. A knife. Blood was pouring out of him.

Tears blurred my vision as I realized what had happened. "Oh, William," I whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead. A hand suddenly grabbed mine, and I looked down. His eyes were wide open, staring straight at me.

"Mel," he whispered weakly, his voice a mere breath. He raised a finger to my lips, as if trying to quiet me. I nodded, trying to stay calm. Then, his hand moved to his chest, and he whispered it again—"Mel."

It clicked. "Help." I yanked the knife out of his chest, looking around frantically for something—anything—to stop the bleeding. My eyes landed on a large cloth wrapped around my leg from an old injury. I tore it off and tied it around his chest, pressing down as hard as I could.

Slowly, his breathing steadied.

"Thank... you," he rasped. "Kristen... you have to get out of here... it's not safe."

I nodded, my heart pounding. I rushed to the water fountain, splashing water into my hands to clean the wound. His words echoed in my mind. "He's going to find you. He will kill you. Get out while you still can."

But just as I looked back at him, everything went dark.

I woke up again to the sound of a clock ticking. It was 11:30 AM, and I was the only one left in the dorm. I dressed quickly and stepped out into the hallway. The building was eerily quiet, like it had been abandoned. When I reached the lobby, I heard voices.

I stepped outside, and there they were—everyone, gathered around a table. Evan waved me over, sitting with a group of people I didn't recognize.

"What happened yesterday?" I asked, still shaken from the bizarre dreams—or were they memories?

Evan glanced at me, his face serious. "There was a party in your dorm last night. It got out of control. Isa and I left after five minutes. People were throwing up in the hallway. Paul and William weren't at the party, but Isa saw them walking on the G floor. You passed out. Christina... she got a bad concussion."

I stood, my stomach churning. "She's probably in the..."

"Boys' dorm, 4th floor. Paul's room," Evan finished for me. I stared at him, my mind racing.

"Go," he urged softly. "Come back safe."

I nodded, my heart heavy as I hurried back inside. The elevator was taking forever, so I turned down a hallway, catching sight of a door labeled "SECRET STAIRCASE." I pushed it open and sprinted up the stairs. The 4th floor was dark and quiet, the air heavy with something unsettling. The walls were damaged, some parts vandalized, others discolored. I didn't know what was happening, but I had to find answers.

I spotted a picture on the wall—a picture that seemed familiar, yet out of place. I didn't move closer but kept walking toward the light at the end of the hallway.

Suddenly, someone bumped into me.

"Watch where you're—" The voice was muffled in the dark.

But then the light came on, and I saw him: William.

"Kris?" he asked, his voice soft.

I nodded, and the light blinked off again, leaving us in the dark. He grabbed my arm, pulling me forward. As the light flickered back on, there she was—Christina, lying in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around her head. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I forced them down.

Turning away, I was met by Jack. His face was twisted with anger.

"Why'd you lie to me?" he shouted, his voice harsh. "Huh? WHY?"

He began pacing, his hands balled into fists. Then he turned to me, his eyes filled with rage, and slapped me hard across the face.

I couldn't believe it. My boyfriend had hit me.

BOOM! The sound echoed in my ears, and Jack was on the floor, his face flushed with shame. I looked up, and there stood William, his fist still raised. He looked at me, then at Jack, and let out a small groan of pain as he shook his hand.

"Ouch," he muttered, before walking over to me. He gently wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"You okay?" William asked, his voice steady.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around him, crying into his chest.

"Thank you," I whispered. He held me tight, his strong arms offering a sense of safety I hadn't felt in so long.

He pulled back, looking at me seriously. "Jack wasn't the right guy for you. I knew that from the start. I didn't want to say anything, but I knew this was going to happen."

I cupped his face in my hands. "William...I...Just-" He shushed me and smiled softly as he hugged me again. We stood there for a moment before walking down the hallway together, the silence between us comfortable, as if everything had finally fallen into place.