The hallways of our school are like a maze—a labyrinth where every turn feels like a step further from reality. The fluorescent lights above flicker intermittently, casting long, unsettling shadows across the cold, sterile tiles. The silence is heavy, almost oppressive, as if the building itself is holding its breath.

I've always hated it here. The whispers in the corners. The rumors that circulate like poison. No one dares speak of them openly, but we all feel it. A presence. Watching. Waiting.

My footsteps echo as I make my way down the hallway, my eyes fixed on the ground. I'm not in the mood for small talk, not in the mood for the usual high school drama. Most students avoid me, and I prefer it that way. It's easier to stay invisible. Easier to pretend I don't see the dark corners of this place.

The school has been quieter than usual lately, and I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. I've heard the rumors, the whispers of students going missing, of strange occurrences in the dead of night. Everyone dismisses it as gossip, something to keep them entertained between classes. But I know better. There's something more to it. Something darker.

I stop in front of the library, the only place I feel at ease. The soft rustling of pages and the smell of old books are the only comfort I've known since I started here. Pushing the door open, I step inside, the warmth of the dim light wrapping around me. But something's off.

The library feels colder today. As though it's been waiting for me.

My eyes scan the rows of bookshelves, the silence settling in around me like a thick fog. That's when I notice him.

A boy, sitting at one of the far tables, his back to me. He's flipping through a book with unnerving speed, his movements stiff, almost mechanical. His hair falls into his eyes, but I catch a glimpse of his expression—a mix of tension and fear.

I don't know why, but I'm drawn to him. Something about his presence unsettles me. He doesn't belong here, not with that haunted look in his eyes.

Without thinking, I approach him. My feet barely make a sound as I walk across the creaky floor. When I'm close enough, I stop, my heart beating faster than usual. The boy doesn't notice me. He's too absorbed in whatever he's reading.

"Hey," I say, my voice quieter than I intended.

He jumps, dropping the book onto the table. His gaze snaps up to meet mine, his eyes wide with panic. But when he sees me standing there, he blinks, the fear in his eyes quickly replaced by something else. Something darker.

"Sorry," he mutters, looking away. "I wasn't expecting anyone."

I don't respond immediately. Instead, I glance at the book on the table. It's old, the pages yellowed and torn, as though it's been passed around for years.

"What's this?" I ask, leaning in slightly.

The boy's fingers hover over the book, as if hesitating. "Just a book," he says, but his voice is shaky. "Nothing important."

I want to push further, to ask him what's really going on, but the words get stuck in my throat. The tension in the air is thick, like a storm is about to break. And I have a sinking feeling that I've just stumbled into something I shouldn't have.

Before I can say anything else, there's a sharp sound—a click. The door behind us shuts, and the lights flicker again, plunging the room into darkness for a split second.

When the lights come back on, the boy is gone.

I look around, panic rising in my chest. He couldn't have left that quickly. But there's no trace of him—no sign that he was ever here. Just the book, lying untouched on the table.

I hesitate, my hand trembling as I reach for the book. A piece of paper falls out from between the pages, crumpled and worn. I unfold it carefully, reading the message scrawled across the paper:

"They're watching. Trust no one."

The words send a chill through me. My breath catches in my throat. This isn't some stupid school rumor. Something's happening here. Something dangerous.

And I'm not sure if I can trust anyone—not even myself.