predatory eyes

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'August 27th. That's when my mom sent the letter. Meaning the entire time, it had been with the institution; they were holding onto it. But why?'

Ella didn't have the luxury to dwell on that thought, as Professor Zane on stage continued speaking.

"Well, I wanted to say what Professor Bailey said, but lightly. But I guess you students would rather have it the hard way, right?" She glanced at the crowd, her charming smile vanishing, replaced by an almost venomous edge. "Next time I try to be civil and show what I thought was well-deserved respect, I'll reconsider."

Then a figure appeared at the side of the stage, stepping forward to speak with her.

Meanwhile murmurs erupted from the crowd.

"Is she showing us her true colors?" someone murmured.

"Yeah, thought she was nice among the professors," another replied.

"Nah—uh. They always send the slimiest ones to deliver bad news. That's why she's been up there from day one," someone else muttered.

"I bet she sent those texts too," another whispered.

'Texts? That's right, why didn't my mom text me?' Ella thought, suddenly feeling a cold sense of dread. Her mother could've easily reached her through the phone, so why hadn't she?

Her fingers fumbled as she pulled out her cell phone, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention. No one seemed to care about her focus, the murmurs from the crowd growing louder with every passing second.

She navigated to her call history. She'd only spoken to her mother once or twice in the years she'd been here, and even then, only after the institution had handed their phones back. They had confiscated all phones in the beginning, claiming social media was a distraction. Hers had been taken, too.

She looked up to check on Professor Zane, still engaged in conversation, her attention diverted. The room's chatter filled the background.

Back then, she hadn't cared much, but now, everything felt suspicious.

Checking her call history, her stomach dropped. All she saw were outgoing calls—nothing else. Had someone erased the rest of it? Were all the students' phones like this, too? She looked around the room. Who could she ask?

Ella had spent six years alone, keeping everyone at arm's length. She'd clashed with almost every girl in her class. Who could she trust now?

Before she could spiral further, Professor Zane returned to the stage, interrupting her thoughts.

"Sorry for the sudden interruption," Zane said, clearing her throat. "However, we've just received some good news. We hope this will motivate you to work with our soldiers. The surprise will be shown at the end, so stay put."

Her tone shifted as she continued, "But for now, we're going to discuss divisions. You'll be split up and sent out to different—"

She was cut off again, this time by someone rushing toward her.

"Sorry, Professor, but we're getting a signal from outside," the person said, their voice almost frantic. The microphone wasn't covered, and the entire class heard.

"A signal? What kind? A human? Or a zombie?" the murmurs grew louder.

"Alright, play it quickly. We have to brief them," Professor Zane said, stepping aside as she motioned to the projector.

The students fell into uneasy silence as a video began to play.

A lone figure appeared on the screen. Scrunched lower shoulders, a thin silhouette—difficult to make out from afar.

He walked slowly, deliberately, his movements almost robotic. As he came into full view, gasps erupted from the class.

"That's—"

"No way…"

"David!" someone shouted.

His small, familiar face came into focus on the screen.

"What is he doing out there? Which camera is this?" one professor asked.

"Camera 36," someone else responded.

"How did he get out?" The room was filled with panic.

What was David doing out there? Ella couldn't help but wonder.

Suddenly, the figure stopped moving. He stared directly into the camera.

"I'll show you. I'll show all of you, especially you, Professor Zane! I'll find my family, and when I do, you'll all eat your words!" he shouted, his voice filled with rage.

"Change it to audio output," Professor Zane ordered.

As the sound shifted, the students were immediately overwhelmed by the noise from outside.

"David, you'll only get yourself killed. Come back now," Professor Zane said, her tone firm but laced with concern.

David's laughter filled the speakers, chilling and manic.

"Why should I? We're all dead either way, so why not be out here looking for my family?" he shouted back, his voice full of defiance.

"David, don't be stubborn. Come back, the institution will help you—" a doctor, one of the lecturers, attempted to reason with him.

"Oh, shut it! You don't know anything! I can save my family, not you! All you care about is yourselves!"

He had a point, Ella thought. But what he was doing... it didn't seem like it would get him anywhere.

"David—" his friends shouted through the speakers, but their voices were drowned out by the growling noises in the distance.

David didn't flinch. He stood there, waiting.

"David, what are you doing? Run!" his friends urged.

David shook his head defiantly. "I'm going to fight every last one of them. I made that promise to myself. I don't need these dogs!"

Then, in a flash, a zombie lunged at him. David barely dodged, but the creature tore a part of his collar. He stumbled to the ground.

"David, what are you doing? Run!" his friends screamed, their voices panicked.

Ella's heart pounded in her chest. What was she seeing? Why wasn't he running?

The students watched in frozen horror as David remained on the ground. What happened to the promise of fighting?

Then, suddenly, a grotesque monster appeared on screen—a towering zombie, at least twice the size of a normal human. Its bloated flesh hung off it, torn and dripping. The zombie had clearly been fat in life, and now, it was fat and grotesque as a zombie.

Before anyone could react, the creature attacked in a flash, and David's head was gone.

Screams erupted through the room.

David's lifeless body on screen—the gruesome image of his decapitation—hung in the silence like a death sentence.

Nobody dared to speak. The room felt cold, suffocating.

Ella tried to calm her racing heart, her eyes flicking to the floor, as if she'd dropped something precious.

"Change the station," Professor Zane snapped, her voice cracking as she tried to maintain composure.

The projector flickered, the screen going black for a split second. Then, without warning, it blared back to life.

The screen was filled with nothing at first—just static. But then, a figure emerged, cutting through the distortion. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he wasn't just walking, but commanding the space itself.

The moment the camera fully focused, the students recoiled.

A man stood, drenched in blood. It wasn't his own—it clung to his clothes, staining the air around him. His eyes locked onto the screen, and something primal stirred in the room. The kind of presence that made even the bravest pause.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to.

He stepped closer to the camera, his gaze never wavering from the lens.

A voice broke through the silence. "Professor Zane? Is this live? Can we speak?"

The voice was powerful, seductive, magnetic. It commanded attention. Killian White.

Ella froze, her breath catching in her throat.

His eyes—those predatory eyes—were locked on her.

Was he staring at me?

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