Cyrus's mind raced as he fled the abandoned St. Grey's Academy, the chilling revelations from the headmaster's diary echoing in his thoughts. He dashed through the rain, his flashlight casting jittery beams across the street as he sprinted toward his home. The wind howled around him, mingling with the pounding of his heart. The urgency of his discovery drove him forward; he needed more information and fast.
When he burst through the front door of his house, he barely registered his father Richard's concerned look. "Cyrus? What's going on?" Richard asked, his brow furrowed in worry.
"I'm heading out again," Cyrus said breathlessly, barely pausing to catch his breath. He dashed up the stairs to his room, his heart thundering with a mix of fear and determination.
He quickly grabbed his backpack from the corner of his room and stuffed it with the diary and his flashlight. The rain pattered steadily against the window as he pulled on his jacket. His fingers fumbled as he packed, the weight of what he had learned pressing down on him.
Downstairs, Richard stood in the hallway, arms crossed, a concerned look still etched on his face. "Cyrus, where are you going at this hour?"
"I have to find something," Cyrus replied, avoiding his father's gaze. "I'll explain later. I promise."
Before Richard could say another word, Cyrus darted out of the house, pushing past his father's outstretched hand. He sprinted to the garage, yanking open the door and grabbing his bike. The cold air and the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the garage roof spurred him on. He mounted his bike and pedaled furiously toward the public library.
The library's lights were dim as Cyrus skidded to a halt outside. The rain had created small puddles that reflected the streetlights, giving the scene an eerie, distorted glow. He propped his bike against the wall and hurried inside.
The library was quiet, its vast expanse filled with towering shelves of books. A woman in her late 40s, with graying hair tied in a loose bun and glasses perched on her nose, sat behind the desk. Her nameplate read "Ms. Harper." She looked up from her book, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of Cyrus.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice kind but with a note of curiosity.
"I need to look up some old newspapers," Cyrus said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm researching St. Grey's Academy."
Ms. Harper's expression shifted to one of intrigue, and she nodded. "The archives are in the back. Follow me."
Cyrus followed her through the labyrinth of bookshelves to a quieter, more secluded section of the library. The room was filled with dusty old files and yellowing newspapers. Ms. Harper gestured to a table stacked with research materials.
"If you need any help, just let me know," she said, then turned and walked back to her desk.
Cyrus dove into the old articles, sifting through headlines and clippings. The rain against the windows created a rhythmic backdrop to his frantic search. He found several articles about St. Grey's Academy, but one article caught his eye: "Tragic Incident: School Fire Claims Lives of Students and Teachers."
He scanned the article, his hands shaking. It detailed the fire and the aftermath, but one section stood out: "A week before the massacre, a group of students accidentally set Samuel Higgins on fire. Witnesses reported that Samuel was left burning and was later found in critical condition, though he was never located afterward. Some believe his spirit may have lingered, seeking vengeance, but others believe he never died."
The words seemed to crawl off the page, sending a shiver down Cyrus's spine. The connection was clear now. Samuel had been brutally tortured and then abandoned to die in a horrific accident, only to return in the form of the massacre. The timeline fit: the massacre happened a week later, followed by the school fire, and Samuel's body had never been found. The possibility that Samuel had returned, seeking retribution, was horrifying.
Cyrus's breath came in short, shallow bursts as he finished reading the article. The missing pieces of the puzzle began to fit together, and the full horror of what had happened became clearer. Samuel's suffering had not ended with his death; it had transformed into something far more terrifying. Plus if Samuel Higgins never died then he might've came back for revenge on those who wronged him.
With the diary and this new information clutched tightly in his hands, Cyrus felt a cold determination settle over him. He had to dig deeper. The secrets of St. Grey's Academy were far from over, and he was now entwined in a mystery that was darker and more dangerous than he had ever imagined.
He stood up, his legs weak but his resolve unwavering. "Thank you, Ms. Harper," he said, as he quickly made his way out of the library, his mind already racing with the implications of what he had discovered. The night was still young, and there was more to uncover