11. The Writing on the Walls

The Writing on the Walls

The school remained the same. The same long, dull hallways. The same lifeless walls covered in old posters. The same air of wealth and privilege that clung to every student like an invisible cloak.

But something had changed.

Something small.

Unnoticeable at first.

Yet, as the day passed, it spread like a disease.

A whisper.

A quiet murmur slipping through the lips of students, passing from one to another.

"Did you see it?"

"Who wrote it?"

"Is this some kind of sick joke?"

The rumors traveled through the school, twisting, growing, changing. But Damian and his gang were the last to know.

Until it was too late.

Damian strolled into his dorm room that evening, laughing as he scrolled through his phone. His gang had just finished another night of drinking in secret—flashing their expensive watches, bragging about things they didn't earn.

He threw his bag onto his bed, his body falling against the mattress.

But then—

He saw it.

And his laughter stopped.

His body stiffened as his eyes landed on the wall.

There—painted in deep, dark red—were three words.

"I SEE YOU."

The letters dripped, thick and wet.

Like fresh blood.

Damian's breath hitched.

His head snapped toward the door, his sharp voice cutting through the silence.

"Which one of you did this?"

His friends, Mason and Ryan, looked up from their own beds.

Mason raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Damian's fingers curled into fists. "This." He gestured to the wall, his voice laced with irritation. "Very funny, guys."

Mason and Ryan stood, their eyes following his pointing finger—

And the moment they saw it—their faces drained of color.

"What the hell…" Mason breathed.

Ryan swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. "That—wasn't there before."

Damian scoffed, but there was something unsettling twisting in his chest.

He marched toward the wall, running his fingers over the letters.

The red smeared beneath his touch.

Wet.

A fresh shiver ran down his spine.

His face twisted into a scowl as he turned back. "Alright, which one of you snuck in here and—"

Then—

A loud knock on the door.

The three boys flinched.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then Damian exhaled sharply and stomped toward the door, his irritation bubbling into anger.

He yanked it open—

No one was there.

The hallway stretched empty.

Only the flickering hallway lights greeted him, buzzing faintly overhead.

A cold draft brushed against his skin.

Damian swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

Mason and Ryan stood behind him now, their bodies tense.

"This is stupid," Mason muttered, forcing a laugh. "Someone's messing with us."

Damian clenched his jaw.

Yes.

That had to be it.

Some pathetic loser playing a prank.

And yet—

When he closed the door and turned back to the room—

There was another message.

Written just beneath the first.

"YOU WILL PAY."

His stomach dropped.

"That—" Ryan stammered. "That wasn't there before."

A chill crept up Damian's spine.

He knew that too.

Because his back had been against that wall just seconds ago.

And no one had touched it.

The next morning, the whispers grew louder.

Because they weren't the only ones.

More messages had appeared around the school.

The walls of the boys' locker room. The bathroom mirrors. Even inside the library.

Each message worse than the last.

"I SEE YOU."

"YOU WILL PAY."

And the worst one—

Scrawled across the door of the abandoned dormitory where Ethan had nearly died.

"DID YOU HEAR HIM SCREAM?"

Students murmured in hushed voices.

The faculty tried to dismiss it as "vandalism," but the tension had already set in.

The air felt heavier.

Something was wrong.

And the ones who felt it the most—

Were the boys who had once laughed.

That night, Damian couldn't sleep.

The words on the walls haunted him.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw red.

He could still feel the strange wetness of the letters on his fingertips.

It had to be a prank.

It had to be.

Yet, as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the unease only grew.

Something felt off.

The room was too quiet.

The air was too still.

Then—

He heard it.

A soft tap.

Then another.

His heart lurched.

He slowly turned his head—

His eyes landed on the window.

His breath caught.

Because someone was standing outside.

Just beyond the glass.

A dark figure.

Motionless.

Unmoving.

Watching.

Damian's body went rigid.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

But when he blinked—

The figure was gone.

His breath came out in short, uneven gasps.

He rubbed his eyes, his fingers pressing into his temples.

He was imagining things.

It was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Right?

But then—

Something shifted in the corner of his vision.

His head snapped toward the wall.

And there—

The words had changed.

One final message.

"DO YOU REMEMBER HOW HE BEGGED?"

A violent shudder tore through his body.

The air felt colder.

And for the first time in his life—

Damian felt fear.

Because deep down—

A voice in his mind whispered a horrible, awful thought.

"Ethan should be dead."

"But what if he's not?"

Outside the dormitory, shrouded in the thick blackness of night, Ethan smiled.

His glowing red eyes gleamed.

He could taste it.

The first seeds of fear.

And this—

Was only the beginning.