Chapter 3: The First Loop

The courtyard shimmered under the morning sun, a haze of noise and motion Aadi couldn't pin down. Nikhil's voice jolted him: "Oi, Aadi! You coming today?" The same grin, the same dust-streaked football bouncing across the concrete. His hands shook, a flicker of heat—flames, Ria's grip—scorching his mind. He blinked hard, the hum in his head pulsing like a fever. Was this real? He'd been in that shed, fire swallowing him, her voice—You're mine and mine alone—ringing as he burned. Yet here he was, standing, the red-brick walls staring back.

He pressed a palm to his forehead, sweat beading in the cool air. The whisper from his waking gasp—Sindhu…—clung like a dream he couldn't shake. Had he dreamed it? Or was this the dream now? 

By midmorning, the whispers crept in—soft, then sharp, eyes flicking to his jacket. Phones flashed the photo—a blurry figure near the girls' washroom, timestamped 4:13 p.m. His stomach churned. He'd seen this—yesterday, or in his head, Gupta's office, the accusations. Neha and Manisha drifted over near the canteen, their faces blurry in his fog. 

"You okay?" Neha asked, glasses slipping, her voice faint like it was underwater. 

Aadi rubbed his eyes, the hum buzzing louder. "I… don't know. This feels wrong." 

Manisha tilted her head, braid swinging, a grin tugging her lips. "What, did the washroom ghost spook you again? Or is Gupta casting spells now?" 

He stared at her, words spilling out. "The photo—it was yesterday. Gupta called me in, yelled about it. Then Ria… the shed…" He trailed off, the fire flashing—real or not? "I keep seeing it." 

Neha blinked, adjusting her glasses. "Yesterday? It's Tuesday. You mean… like a dream?" 

"Maybe," Aadi muttered, voice shaky. "Felt real—too real. The shed, the fire. Now it's all back." 

Manisha's grin wavered, then snapped back, sharper. "Whoa, hold up. You're saying you dreamed this whole day already? What's next, flying monkeys crashing assembly?" She waved her hands like wings, then sobered. "That's freaky, dude." 

"It's not funny," Aadi said, the hum clawing at him. "Ria was there—in the shed. She… did something. I need to figure this out." 

Neha's hands twisted her sweater. "The shed? With the fuel cans? What happened—did she talk you to death or something?" 

"I don't know," Aadi said, grasping at fragments. "She was mad—pushed me. Then fire. I can still feel it. If this is real, I can't let it happen again." 

Manisha snorted. "Ria? Mad enough to torch you? She'd sooner strangle you with her hair. But okay, what's the move—hide from her evil vibes?" 

"No," Aadi said, clinging to a thread of clarity. "We stay together, out here. If she comes near, I'll… I'll stop her." 

Neha frowned, voice trembling. "What if it's not her? What if this is something else—like a trick, or… I don't know, a nightmare playing with us?" 

"Too many weirdos around here," Manisha muttered, scanning the crowd. "Could be Nikhil with a prank, or some cursed phone snapping ghost pics. Beats me." 

Aadi nodded, the hum a dull roar. "Let's find her." 

By lunch, Ria loomed near the railing, her smile a jagged edge. "Rough day, huh?" she said, her voice slicing through the fog in his head. 

He froze, her face blurring with the shed's flames. "I… I've seen you today," he said, voice unsteady. "This isn't right." 

Ria's smile twitched—confusion, then amusement. "Seen me? You're acting strange, Aadi. What's rattling around in that head?" 

"Stay away," he said, the hum surging. "I don't know what's happening, but you're part of it." 

"You're mine and mine alone," she hissed, stepping closer, her eyes glinting. "You don't get to run." 

Manisha laughed, loud and sharp. "Oh, please! What are you, his personal stalker now? Back off, drama queen!" 

Ria's gaze turned icy, a storm brewing. "You'll regret this," she spat, vanishing into the crowd. 

The intercom crackled, summoning Aadi to the principal's office. He stumbled through it—Gupta's glare, the photo, the same grilling words spinning in his ears. He denied it, the hum drowning him, unsure if he was awake or lost in a loop of his own mind. Ria was out there, her threat real—dream or not. Maybe—

A scream tore through the courtyard as he stepped out. Neha's voice, raw and jagged, piercing the air. He staggered toward it, Manisha at his heels, pushing through a thickening crowd—students clustering near the gym, their murmurs swelling into gasps and shrieks. Neha knelt on the concrete, her hands shaking, blood streaking her sleeves and pooling beneath her. Ria lay sprawled before her, a grotesque tableau—her head smashed against the edge of a jagged step, skull split open like a dropped melon. Blood gushed from the wound, thick and dark, spilling over the pavement, matting her dark hair into a crimson tangle. The impact had caved her forehead, bone splintered inward, one eye crushed into a pulpy, oozing mess, the other half-open in a lifeless stare. Shards of a broken bottle glinted nearby, its neck smeared with red, the rest scattered in the chaos. Her jaw hung slack, teeth chipped from the fall, a faint gurgle escaping her throat as blood bubbled up, her chest heaving once, twice, then stilling in a final, wet rattle. 

"She—she came at me," Neha stammered, voice breaking, tears mixing with the red on her hands. "Screaming about you, Aadi—said I was stealing you, that you belonged to her alone. She swung the bottle, wild, like she'd lost it—I pushed her, just to stop her, and she tripped… fell…" Her words dissolved into sobs, her glasses fogging with tears. 

The crowd erupted—girls screamed, clutching each other, their cries shrill and panicked: "Oh my God, she's dead!" "Her head—look at her head!" Boys gaped, some stumbling back, pale and wide-eyed, others craning forward, morbidly transfixed. "What the hell happened?" a voice shouted, cracking with fear. A girl near the front retched, doubling over, vomit splattering the concrete, while a boy muttered, "Serves her right—crazy bitch," his hands trembling despite the bravado. Phones flashed, capturing the gore, whispers swirling: "Neha killed her… Ria's gone… Was it about that photo?" A few laughed nervously, a shaky edge to it, while another yelled, 

"Someone get a teacher—this is insane!" The air thickened with shock, disgust, and a strange, electric thrill rippling through the onlookers. 

Aadi's stomach heaved, acid surging up his throat. The sight—Ria's shattered skull, the blood seeping into cracks, her pulped eye—clawed at him, a visceral punch. He gagged, clapping a hand over his mouth, and bolted, legs wobbling toward the boys' washroom. He crashed through the door, collapsing over a sink, vomiting hard—bile and terror splattering the porcelain, the stench choking him. His reflection flickered—pale, hollow, streaked with sweat—until blood dripping from his nose as he heaved again, the taste of acid burning his throat. He gripped the sink, trembling, until heavy footsteps thudded behind him. 

Three shadows loomed, blocking the exit. Big, well-built, muscles bulging under their uniforms—cricket team, maybe. The tallest, a brute with a scarred cheek, smirked, cracking his knuckles, bloodlust in his eyes. "Washroom creep. Photo's everywhere—caught you sneaking around, huh?" 

Aadi wiped his mouth, the hum roaring, blood and bile staining his chin. "It's not me," he rasped, voice raw from retching. "I didn't—" 

"Shut your filthy mouth," the second growled—a stocky guy with a buzz cut—lunging forward. His fist slammed into Aadi's gut, doubling him over, blood and spit spraying from his lips onto the tiles. "You're a sick bastard—heard about Ria. You're next." 

The third, leaner but wiry, grabbed Aadi's collar, yanking him up. "Thought you were a good kid—guess we were wrong." He smashed Aadi's face into the sink, porcelain cracking under the blow, blood gushing from his nose in a hot, thick stream. "Time to bleed, freak." 

Aadi's vision swam, dream or reality shredding apart. "Stop!" he choked, swinging wildly—his fist caught the tall one's jaw, splitting skin, blood trickling down the boy's chin. They roared, closing in like wolves. "You think you can fight?" the tall one snarled, grabbing Aadi's throat, squeezing until veins bulged, his scarred face twisting with rage. "Heard you got Ria killed—pathetic little shit!" 

Aadi thrashed, kicking, his heel smashing the boy's shin—a crack, a howl of pain—but the grip tightened, nails digging into his neck, drawing red welts. "I didn't—don't know what's real!" he gasped, clawing at the hand, nails raking flesh, blood beading under his fingers. The stocky one slammed a knee into Aadi's ribs, a wet crunch as bone snapped, pain exploding through him. He screamed, a guttural howl, swinging again—his elbow cracked the lean one's cheek, splitting the skin, a red gash blooming. 

"Little shit fights back!" the tall one bellowed, slamming Aadi against the wall. Tiles shattered, Aadi's skull thudding, a sickening squelch as blood pooled beneath him, matting his hair. The lean one swung, fist crashing into Aadi's temple, blood bursting from the gash, streaming into his eyes, blinding him with red. "You're done, creep—nobody's saving you!" he spat, stomping Aadi's knee—cartilage popped, a shriek tearing from Aadi's throat as he crumpled, leg buckling under him. 

Aadi gurgled, desperation surging, clawing at the stocky one's leg—nails digging into muscle, tearing skin, blood slicking his hands. "Please—I don't—" His plea cut off as the tall one kicked his face, teeth cracking, blood and spit spraying across the floor. The stocky one laughed, a cruel bark. "Begging now? Too late—should've thought twice before messing with girls!" He stomped Aadi's chest—ribs caved inward, blood bubbling from his mouth, pooling beneath him in a dark, sticky puddle. 

Aadi's hands flailed, grasping at air, then latched onto the lean one's ankle—twisting with fading strength, a snap as bone shifted, the boy howling, staggering back. "You bastard!" the lean one roared, kicking Aadi's head, a wet thud as his skull bounced off the tiles, blood spurting from his ears. The tall one knelt, grabbing Aadi's hair, yanking his head up—his face a mask of gore, nose flattened, eyes swollen shut, blood dripping from every gash. "Look at you—pathetic. Die already," he snarled, smashing Aadi's face into the floor, bone crunching, a final, wet wheeze escaping as the world faded, the hum a distant wail.

Darkness.

He woke, gasping, on his mattress. The clock blinked 6:00 a.m., the window rattling. Sweat and phantom blood soaked him, his body screaming, the echo of fists and Ria's cracked skull lingering. His room stared back—desk, pencils, the crack in the wall—but his chest heaved, the hum whispering Sindhu… Sagar…. Tuesday again? He'd seen Ria's brains spill, felt his own bones shatter—was it real? A nightmare bleeding into itself?