Annabelle descended the creaking stairs that led into the living room, the old wooden steps groaning in protest beneath her weight. With a quick glance around, she retrieved her backpack from the couch and slung it over her shoulder before stepping out of the house.

The door slammed shut behind her, causing the entire house to shudder as if chilled by an unspoken presence. An expression of disgust crossed Annabelle's face, and she rolled her eyes in response.

Scowling at her home as if it were the source of her frustrations, she turned and walked away, a frustrated huff escaping her lips. Her father's choice of house was something she couldn't support. Among all the houses in the community, he had chosen one that even an elderly, wretched couple would refuse to live in.

Every aspect of the house oozed old-fashioned charm and weariness. Annabelle couldn't fathom how her father had managed to live in such a place before her arrival. It seemed to acquire a messiness of its own after being tidied up, and as a busy student, Annabelle had no time to handle household chores. If she wasn't occupied with experiments, her nose was buried deep in her books.

Following the passing of her mother, living with her father became her only option. Throughout her childhood, she had resided with her mother after her parents' divorce. Her father's addiction to drugs had plagued their family, with him frequently returning home late at night, intoxicated, and subjecting his wife to abuse whenever she voiced her concerns.

Though her father still struggled with addiction, Annabelle couldn't claim that he was a bad father. She was his only child, and he loved her, even if his actions didn't always reflect it. Despite his drunkenness, he would often apologize for hurting her when he regained his senses.

Their house was situated near the entrance of the woods. Stepping out of their back porch meant immersing oneself in the forest's embrace. The woods were no ordinary place, forever cast in shadows, darkness, and an eerie chill. Strange vibes permeated the air, and elusive shadows danced in the night.

Unusual noises frequently echoed through the woods, ranging from growls of unseen creatures to other unexplainable sounds. When Annabelle grew tired of the cacophony and decided to let her father know about it, a bottle came hurtling towards her, narrowly missing her as she instinctively ducked.

Such incidents had become commonplace, which was why she refrained from sharing her concerns about the woods with her father. He would have to discover the mysteries of the forest on his own.

Annabelle had grown accustomed to her father's behavior, as he would often act out when under the influence of alcohol, only to apologize profusely once sober. She couldn't complain too much, as her mother had endured similar mistreatment before filing for divorce.

She could tolerate her father's actions, but the strange noises in the woods were a different story. They left her sleepless, her eyes wide open in the night. Every glimpse of flickering shadows that vanished in an instant would send shivers down her spine. In her heart, she knew the woods harbored something dangerous, patiently waiting to pounce.

The woods were akin to a wolf in sheep's clothing, far from being a comforting place. Even when Annabelle sought solace on her balcony, taking a break from her studies at night, she couldn't shake the sensation of being watched by a malevolent presence. It was as if a time bomb lurked in the shadows, waiting to detonate. Someone was observing her, and she was well aware of it.

...

As the taxi pulled up in front of her school, Annabelle stepped out and paid the driver with the last few dollars she had. With a nod of gratitude, she entered the school premises while the driver swiftly drove away. There was something about the driver that seemed suspicious, always stealing glances at her through the rearview mirror.

Keeping her gaze fixed on the floor, she briskly walked through the school corridor, determined not to be late for her morning lectures. The stares she received from other students made her wonder if she had a pig perched on her head. Her uniform was impeccable, her black curly hair neatly brushed, cascading down her back.

Turning toward the sound of her name being called, she rolled her eyes upon realizing it was Williams, the school head prefect, accompanied by his group of friends. Williams had persistently asked her out on a date, but she had consistently turned him down. Despite his good looks and intelligence, he simply didn't ignite any romantic interest within Annabelle. She remained uninterested.

Before she could refocus on her destination, she accidentally bumped into Mirabelle, who hissed in response to their collision. "It was a mistake," Annabelle quickly apologized, offering a conciliatory look before resuming her hurried stride.

For some reason, Mirabelle had been itching for a fight, and Annabelle had been doing her best to avoid any confrontations, until now, when she unintentionally bumped into her. All thanks to Williams.

She had no interest in engaging in petty high school drama.

"You! Watch where you're going!" Mirabelle said in an offensive tone, and suddenly grabbed Annabelle by her hair. Annabelle winced and immediately pulled away, her hair already disheveled from Mirabelle's rough grasp.

"Are you blind? Can't you see that you just knocked over my notebook?" she yelled at Annabelle, who stared back at her with a blank expression.

Annabelle crouched down, picked up the notebook, and thrust it back into Mirabelle's hand, waiting for her to continue.

After a few moments of silence, Annabelle asked, "I didn't expect you to be so brief," she sighed quietly when she noticed Mirabelle's eyes darken. It seemed her words hit a nerve and made Mirabelle even angrier.

"Don't speak to me like that!" Mirabelle yelled aggressively, staring at Annabelle with disdain while clenching her fists.

"What if I do?" Annabelle challenged, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Then I'll report your dad to the police," Mirabelle threatened, placing her hands on her hips.

"Seriously, what charges do you have against him? Is he a molester? Are you having an affair with him? Go ahead, make me have a cute little step brother. I could use one," Annabelle said in a bored tone, fanning herself with her hand.

Doesn't she have anything else to use against her? But the students in the corridor burst into laughter, and Mirabelle growled under her breath, feeling like a laughingstock.

"Your dad is a notorious drug addict, so quit the foolish talk and act of ignorance," Mirabelle replied, her hands still on her hips, a smirk forming on her lips as the laughter died down and whispers about Annabelle's dad took over.

"Do whatever you want, because that's none of my business in the first place. Who cares? I couldn't care less about any of that," Annabelle replied, shrugging her shoulders before turning and walking away. She wasn't phased and didn't care about the opinions of others in her life.

"You know what? Your mom was a terrible person, a heartless woman who killed her children. That's why she died a brutal death earlier than she was supposed to. She deserved to die, and so do you," Mirabelle said loudly, her words cutting through the air, causing the other students to gasp.

Upon hearing what Mirabelle said with a sense of pride, Annabelle stopped in her tracks, freezing like a mannequin.

"What did you just say?" Annabelle asked, trying to act cool as she walked towards Mirabelle, but deep inside, she was seething with fury. She was already infuriated, her hands clenched into tight fists.

How dare her classmate speak about her late mom in such a manner in front of other students? She wouldn't let this slide.

"You heard me. Your mom was an evil woman, and you're no different," Mirabelle repeated, but before she could finish her statement, a punch landed on her face. Caught off guard, she couldn't avoid it.

"How dare you speak about my late mom like that? What do you even know about her and her death?!" Annabelle yelled at her, pushing her to the ground while Mirabelle was still dazed from the punch.

Annabelle started throwing punches at Mirabelle, trying to hold back tears as she beat her up.

"Who's feeding you information about my family? Everyone should stop prying into my life and my family!" she shouted.

She tore Mirabelle's school shirt, just as Mirabelle had ruined her skirt zipper. No one knew anything about her family, so what was Mirabelle talking about? Was it because Mirabelle was a rich kid that she was spying on her?

Suddenly, Annabelle felt a sharp pain in her arms, causing her to let go of Mirabelle and whimper.

Mirabelle had stabbed her in the arms, and blood began to flow.

Annabelle quickly stood up, picked up her backpack, and ran to her class since she was already late for her lessons.

She left Mirabelle lying on the floor with the dagger in her hand.

As she hurried to her class, she caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette passing through the corridor in a fleeting moment. Where had she seen that silhouette before? Wasn't it in her home, outside in the woods?