SOMETHING IS OFF

Collins let out a slow breath, staring up at the ceiling of his dorm room. The faint hum of conversation from outside barely registered in his mind. His hands were folded behind his head, his uniform still on, his tie loosened just enough to let him breathe. The sun cast long streaks of golden light through the window, stretching across the wooden floor and dust-speckled air.

But Collins wasn't admiring the scenery. His thoughts were elsewhere—tangled in frustration.

Why couldn't he just ask her out?

It made no sense. He wasn't shy. Girls were never a problem for him. He didn't stumble over his words, didn't hesitate when it came to flirting. Yet, when it came to Tasha Monroe, he was utterly useless.

It wasn't that she was intimidating. No, Tasha wasn't the loud, confident type who could put a guy in his place. She was quiet, reserved, even a little awkward at times. But maybe that was the problem. She wasn't like the others. She didn't throw herself at him, didn't giggle at every little thing he said.

She was just… different.

And it was driving him insane.

Collins groaned, rubbing his face. "You're pathetic," he muttered to himself. "Just say something next time, idiot."

The sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand pulled him out of his self-loathing. He frowned, reaching for it. The caller ID was blocked. That alone was enough to put him on edge.

He hesitated before answering. "Hello?"

A pause. Then, a familiar voice. Low. Steady. Cautious.

"Collins."

Collins' grip tightened on the phone. "You shouldn't be calling me."

"I wouldn't if it wasn't important." The voice on the other end was calm but firm. "How are you holding up?"

Collins scoffed, sitting up. "You called just to ask that?"

"You know that's not why I called." A slight pause. "Have you noticed anything… unusual?"

Collins' eyes flickered to the door as if expecting someone to be listening. He lowered his voice. "No. Should I have?"

There was another silence, heavier this time. Then, "Be careful."

Something about the way they said it made his skin prickle.

Collins exhaled through his nose. "You think it's happening again?"

"I think you should stay alert."

The line went dead.

Collins stared at the screen for a moment before tossing the phone onto his bed. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his mind stirring with a quiet storm of memories.

The past never stayed buried. It always clawed its way back.

His hands clenched into fists as his mind drifted—back to a time when he was just a boy.

---

The room was bathed in shadows. The only light came from the flickering candle on the table, casting eerie shapes across the walls. The smell of burning wax mixed with something else—something metallic.

Blood.

He was too young to understand everything, but he understood fear. He should have been afraid. Any normal child would have been screaming, crying, begging for help.

But Collins wasn't.

He stood still, silent, watching.

His mother lay on the floor, her breathing ragged, her body twisted unnaturally. Blood pooled beneath her, seeping into the cracks of the wooden floor. His father—what was left of him—was strewn across the room in a way that no human body should be.

And in the center of it all was the thing.

It crouched beside his mother, its form shifting, flickering between something vaguely human and something monstrous. Its eyes glowed—red, deep, endless. Its mouth curled into something that was almost a grin.

His mother made a sound—a whisper, barely audible. It took Collins a moment to realize she was speaking to him.

"Run."

The thing turned its head slowly, as if amused.

"She said run," it repeated, its voice laced with mockery. Then, it chuckled—a sound that slithered under his skin, made the air thick with something unnatural.

Collins didn't move.

He should have.

He should have done something—screamed, cried, ran.

But he just stood there, staring into the abyss of that creature's gaze.

And he felt nothing.

Not fear. Not sorrow. Not even anger.

Just… nothing.

---

A sharp knock at the door jolted him back to the present.

Collins sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly. His heart was steady—too steady.

Another knock. "Collins?"

He cleared his throat before answering. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped inside. It was the school prefect. His posture was stiff, his face unreadable.

"All students are being called to the hall."

Collins frowned. "What for?"

The prefect didn't answer right away. His eyes lingered on Collins for a second too long before he simply said, "Just come."

And then he was gone.

Collins exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. The unease from his memory hadn't fully faded, but he shoved it down. He had long since mastered the art of keeping his emotions locked away.

Still, as he got up and made his way out, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

And this time… he wasn't sure if he was ready.

———

The grand assembly hall buzzed with restless energy. Students whispered among themselves, their voices hushed but urgent. The room, with its towering stone walls and stained-glass windows casting fractured sunlight onto the polished floors, had always felt imposing—but today, it carried an even heavier weight.

Something was wrong.

Students sat in long rows, their gazes flickering toward the stage where Headmistress Grimshaw stood in her usual stern posture, hands clasped in front of her. Her sharp, hawk-like eyes swept over the crowd, commanding silence. The murmurs gradually faded, replaced by the occasional creak of chairs and the distant hum of the wind pressing against the old building.

Collins sat in the middle row, arms crossed over his chest, studying Grimshaw with faint curiosity. It wasn't often that she called for an assembly so suddenly, and if the tense expressions of the other teachers seated behind her were any indication, this wasn't going to be a simple announcement.

Grimshaw inhaled deeply before speaking.

"As you all know, academic excellence is not only about discipline but also about maintaining a healthy and stable environment for learning." Her voice, as sharp as the cold morning air, echoed through the hall. "In light of this, the school has decided to grant a two-week holiday, effective immediately."

A stunned silence followed. Then—

"What?!"

"No way!"

Gasps and excited murmurs broke out like wildfire. Some students shot each other looks of disbelief, while others instantly broke into smiles, nudging their friends in excitement. They hadn't been home in months—this was unexpected, almost unreal.

Collins raised a brow, watching the crowd react. Some were already planning what they'd do with their newfound freedom, grinning and whispering about escaping this prison for a while. But then there were those—like himself—who weren't particularly thrilled about it.

A forced holiday? That wasn't normal.

His gaze flickered back to Grimshaw. Despite the commotion, her expression remained cold, unmoving. If anything, she looked…calculating.

"You are all required to leave by tomorrow morning," she continued, unfazed by the uproar. "Arrangements will be made for those who need transportation. Attendance after the holiday is mandatory. There will be no exceptions."

Collins' fingers drummed against his knee. No exceptions.

That meant no staying behind.

That meant something was being covered up.

He didn't need to be a genius to piece it together. Alexander and Celeste were missing—two of the most prominent students in the school, and yet, their absence had been swept under the rug as if they had never existed. Some students had already whispered about it earlier, wondering why no one was addressing it. Now, suddenly, a holiday was being declared?

The whole thing stank of secrecy.

But Collins wasn't the only one who noticed. Across the hall, some students exchanged wary glances, their expressions shifting from excitement to suspicion. Yet, no one said anything. It wasn't their business. As long as they were getting what they wanted—an unexpected break from school—most of them wouldn't ask questions.

"That will be all," Grimshaw said, signaling the end of the announcement. "Dismissed."

Chairs scraped against the floor as students rose, the air buzzing with excitement and confusion. The moment Grimshaw exited the stage, conversations erupted from every corner of the room.

Collins stayed seated for a moment, watching the teachers disappear behind the hall doors, their hushed discussion lingering in the air. This wasn't normal. But there was no point in digging into it now—not in this room, not with so many ears listening.

With a sigh, he stood up, stretching before scanning the crowd. He didn't have to search long.

There she was.

Tasha

Tasha stood near the tall arched doorway with her usual companions, Lina and Naomi, their expressions mixed. Lina had her arms crossed, lips pursed as she listened to Naomi ramble on about the holiday, while Tasha…

She was simply lost in thought.

Collins didn't hesitate. With his usual easygoing stride, he made his way toward them, pushing past the energetic students chattering about going home.

"Ladies, ladies," he greeted smoothly, grinning as he approached. "Why the long faces? The prison gates are finally opening, and you look like you've been sentenced to life."

Naomi snorted. "That's because we have."

Lina rolled her eyes. "You say that, but I bet you'll be the first one to cry about missing school once you're home."

"Pfft. Excuse me? I love freedom." Naomi placed a hand on her chest dramatically. "I will bask in my two weeks of absolute peace, thank you very much."

Collins chuckled, before turning his attention to Tasha. She hadn't said a word yet, only offering him a small, fleeting smile. He tilted his head slightly.

"You okay, Monroe?"

Tasha blinked as if just realizing he was addressing her. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "She's just being dramatic."

Lina nudged her. "Says the person who just gave a monologue about freedom."

Collins let them bicker, but his attention remained on Tasha. She was quiet—quieter than usual. Though she put on a normal face, there was something distant in her expression, like she wasn't fully here.

He wanted to say something—wanted to tease her like usual, maybe pull one of his ridiculous jokes just to get a real smile out of her. But he didn't. Instead, he simply studied her, taking in the little things—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way she shifted on her feet, the way her lips parted slightly as if there was something she wanted to say but held back.

She was beautiful.

God, she was beautiful.

And it drove him insane.

Collins had never had trouble with girls. He could talk, flirt, and charm his way through anything—but with Tasha, it was different. He couldn't even begin to explain why, but every time he was around her, he felt like a damn fool. It was like some invisible force stripped him of his usual confidence, leaving him vulnerable in a way he wasn't used to.

It was frustrating.

And yet…

He wouldn't trade it for anything.

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke. "Well, if we're all being forced out of this place, we might as well make the most of it." He threw an arm around Naomi's shoulder, ignoring her dramatic groan. "Ladies, let's plan our grand farewell. One final hurrah before we're thrown back into the cruel world outside these walls."

Naomi scoffed. "You mean civilization?"

"Exactly."

Lina chuckled. "What do you have in mind?"

Collins smirked. "Oh, you'll see."

Tasha finally let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "This can only end in disaster."

"Disaster is my middle name."

"No, it's not."

"Shh, let me have this."

For a moment, the tension lifted, the atmosphere lightened. Whatever darkness loomed over the school was momentarily forgotten.

But deep down, Collins knew the feeling wouldn't last