Chapter 7

Sara didn't know how much time had passed since they had entered the tunnels, but the moment they stepped into the main corridor, it felt as if time had stopped. Alan covered his nose and stared with dazed eyes at the corpse lying behind the bars. Sara couldn't bring herself to go near it again. Not only did she see paranormal phenomena, but every night before falling asleep, the image of that horrific scene replayed in her mind. She couldn't understand why it had happened to her—especially since she wasn't one of the brave ones.

A sudden noise startled her. Alan turned toward her, just as confused. He walked over and grabbed her hand. She didn't fully understand what was happening but allowed him to take the lead. She felt safer with him nearby.

They hid behind a wall. The light bulb began flickering again, just like the night Sara had woken up in this place. Goosebumps covered her arms, and she clung to Alan's hand in fear. If it hadn't been for the danger they were in, she never would have dared to make such a move. But now, she could think of nothing else but finding a way back into the building and escaping this terrifying underworld.

"They died not that long ago," Alan whispered. A shiver ran down Sara's spine. Her eyes widened as footsteps echoed through the corridor.

She gripped Alan's hand tighter, her fear growing.

Someone entered the hallway, whistling a cheerful tune. Alan gave her a concerned look and discreetly peeked out; Sara did the same. The flickering bulb made it hard to see clearly, but she could tell by the silhouette that it was a man. He walked over to the grate where Alan had been standing moments earlier and opened it. He stepped inside. Alan turned to Sara and pressed his finger to his lips, signaling her to stay quiet.

The light went out completely.

"Damn it! I know you missed me, but you can see the conditions here," the man muttered, talking to the corpse as he dragged it out. "This damn lightbulb keeps burning out, and I can't spend any more time with you."

Sara looked at Alan, her eyes full of fear. He tried to appear brave, but she could see that part of him was just as scared.

He took her hand again, trying to give her courage. It helped. She felt slightly safer.

"We'll get out of here," he whispered, and she nodded. She trusted him and believed they'd make it back to the building. Only now did she realize that spending the night outside in the cold had been the better option.

Who was the man handling the corpse? He had to be someone who lived in the center—after all, it was past 2 a.m., and the building was locked at this hour.

"The psychologist was a bad man. He never helped you. How can anyone deal with nosy brats who poke their noses where they don't belong? If you three hadn't snooped around, you'd still be alive. People from Poland never think. Always so annoying. Worthless trash," the man growled, and Sara felt panic rise inside her.

Had they been murdered?

She gasped when she felt an icy breath on the back of her neck. She cautiously looked over her shoulder—and there stood a young girl with a pale face, staring into her eyes.

"You're in danger now," the ghost whispered.

Sara swallowed hard, frozen with fear. She wanted to scream, but her voice was stuck in her throat. The phantom reached out to touch her, and the moment it did, a sharp jolt of pain surged through her body. A piercing scream escaped her lips.

Alan reacted instantly, catching her as she collapsed against the wall. He peeked out and saw the man rushing toward them. He helped Sara to her feet and dragged her behind him, leading her deeper into the tunnel.

As they ran through the dark corridor, Sara looked over her shoulder and saw that the man was right behind them.

"I'm scared," she cried between gasps, her voice trembling. But Alan held her hand firmly, even though she was slowing down from fear.

"You can do this, Sara. We'll be out of here soon."

"Stop!" the man shouted. "I'll get you, you little bastards! You won't escape! You're trapped!"

Sara felt like her insides were being tied in knots.

Alan suddenly turned a corner, pulling her into a narrow corridor flooded with water. He paused, scanning their surroundings carefully.

Sara held her breath as the man appeared at the corridor's entrance, his wild eyes searching. Despite the shadows, she could see the crazed glint in his gaze—as if he knew they were nearby.

She glanced at Alan. He once again put his finger to his lips. She obeyed and took a deep breath, doing her best to suppress her panic.

Alan knew what he was doing. And she trusted him.

A loud bang echoed from the other end of the corridor, like someone had thrown a heavy object. The man turned his attention to the noise—and then took off running.

Sara exhaled in relief. Alan peered out to make sure the coast was clear, then motioned for her to follow. She crept out from their hiding place.

She turned toward where the man had gone—and froze. Three figures stood in the distance. The same girl who had touched her shoulder earlier now nodded, as if reassuring her they were safe.

Alan grabbed Sara's hand. They dashed back to the main corridor, but this time Alan took her down a different tunnel. They ducked behind a thick pipe running along the wall. They needed to rest.

"This was a bad idea. I'm sorry I brought you here," she whispered.

But Alan shook his head firmly. "If we hadn't come here, we wouldn't have known what's happening at the center. There are dead kids lying there, Sara."

He looked at her closely as she trembled.

"I'm just cold," she murmured, noticing the concern in his eyes.

Without a word, Alan took off his sweatshirt and handed it to her. When she hesitated, he gently pulled it over her head himself.

She thanked him softly, warmth spreading through her chest. For a moment, she forgot about the danger.

Part of her was happy that she had gotten closer to him, that she no longer felt so intimidated. But fear still loomed—because the man wasn't going to give up. Not after what they'd seen.

"I think we know the man who's chasing us," Alan said suddenly.

Sara froze.

"It's our teacher. The one who hit me," he added. Her stomach twisted.

"I could be wrong... but for a split second, I saw his face."

Another shudder ran through her. Her shoulder burned where the ghost had touched her. She reached under her shirt and ran her fingers over her skin. A small scar had formed. She could tell it had a shape, but she didn't know what it meant.

"We should keep moving," Alan said after a long pause. "We have to get out of here before that psychopath finds us."

They got up from the wet floor and moved on. Eventually, they reached another corridor—but this one looked different. Bars lined both sides, and behind them were small rooms filled with chains and thick ropes.

Horror filled Sara's eyes. Alan looked equally shaken.

She stepped up to one of the barred rooms, her attention caught by something gleaming in the corner. She pushed the door—it opened easily. Inside, in the corner, lay a faded photograph.

She looked over her shoulder. Alan wasn't nearby.

Hesitantly, she bent down and picked up the photo. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the man in uniform. The blood drained from her face.

It was a general.

"Sara! I found the exit!" Alan called. She quickly stuffed the photo into her sweatshirt pocket and ran toward him. He pointed to a metal door, a hopeful smile on his face.

They climbed the stairs, and Alan opened the brass door, leading them into the basement.

*

Laura couldn't fall asleep. She tossed and turned in bed, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of her roommate. For the first time in her life, she genuinely felt guilty. She couldn't stop wondering where Sara had gone.

She slipped out of bed, put on her slippers, and shuffled toward the door. The hallway was dark and quiet. She looked around, hoping to spot Sara—but there was no sign of her.

She descended the stairs slowly, thinking that maybe she'd run into her somewhere in the building. If she did, maybe the guilt would ease enough for her to finally get some sleep. This was the first time she had ever felt sorry for a roommate—most of them had annoyed her, but Sara's shyness had struck a chord.

Suddenly, a sound made her stop in her tracks. She peeked around the corner and spotted Matthew and Oliver sneaking food out of the cafeteria. They were so loud and clumsy that she figured it was only a matter of time before someone caught them.

Matthew tossed a soda can to Oliver, who stuffed it into his backpack. Laura let out a small laugh, startling both of them. They turned toward her, wide-eyed and frozen, as she crossed her arms and smirked.

"Where's all your courage now?" she teased playfully. Oliver narrowed his eyes at her, his gaze flicking down to her bare legs and short shirt. He looked irritated.

Laura locked eyes with him, her smirk growing wider.

"Mr. Popular and his sneaky roommate. What a team—stealing snacks like amateurs," she mocked, raising an eyebrow.

Matthew, unfazed, tossed her a can of Pepsi. She caught it easily, opened it immediately—and it fizzed all over her. The soda soaked through her thin shirt, clinging to her skin, but she didn't care. She took a sip like nothing had happened.

Matthew blinked, clearly distracted by the sight. His eyes lingered a bit too long.

Oliver grimaced.

"She splashes around like a pig and thinks it's sexy," he muttered under his breath. "These cheap tricks don't work on us."

He saw straight through her. Laura had been into Matthew for a while—anyone with eyes could see it. And Matthew… well, he wasn't even subtle. One second he'd looked uninterested, and now he was practically salivating.

Oliver elbowed him hard. Matthew snapped out of it.

"I'm not going to tell on you," Laura said smoothly, raising her can in mock toast. "I'm no snitch. We inmates have to stick together."

She hesitated, then added, "By the way… have you seen Sara? She hasn't come back to the room. I'm… kind of worried."

"After the way you treated her?" Matthew growled. "You expect us to believe that?"

Oliver zipped up the backpack and kept his eyes on her. He didn't trust Laura. From day one, she had given him a strange feeling—there was something off about her. She acted like a witch, and most people at the center were afraid of her.

"Only thing missing is the broom," he muttered.

Then he froze.

Sara and Alan suddenly burst through the basement doors, soaked and visibly shaken.

Laura rushed toward them. "What happened?"

"We're not safe here," Alan said seriously, glancing at Sara. "We barely made it out alive."

The others stared at them in disbelief. Seeing their expressions, Alan's voice turned sharper.

"This isn't a joke. We're not making this up. Don't tell anyone. We can't trust anyone."

Laura's smugness faded a little, but her tone was still teasing.

"Someone tried to kill you?" she asked with disbelief.

"Not just someone. Our teacher," Alan said flatly.

That shut her up.

"You're friends with Sara, so maybe you should know what's really happening. There's something seriously wrong with this place. We found dead kids in the basement," he continued in a hushed voice.

Laura went pale. Her cocky demeanor evaporated. She looked at Sara, whose expression was dead serious.

"You have to trust us," Sara said quietly. "If anyone finds out what we saw, we're all in danger. Something happened to Julia too, didn't it?"

Matthew opened his mouth, as if to say something—but before he could speak, a deep voice cut through the silence:

"Can someone explain what's going on here?"

It was the director.