Racheal slammed her bag onto the chair the moment she entered her room, her movements sharp, her chest rising and falling with frustration. Every nerve in her body felt on edge. Everything was suffocating her—the endless rumors on campus, Erica's harsh words still echoing in her head, the smirks of Mr. Unknown and his friends, Gideon's helpless silence, and the weight of secrets she could no longer bear.
Her jaw tightened. Why me? Why always me? Why can't they just leave me alone?
She dropped onto her bed, covering her face with her hands. A scream clawed at her throat, but she swallowed it down. Crying wouldn't solve anything. Screaming wouldn't either. She hated how weak she felt—cornered, surrounded, exposed.
And then she heard it.
The laughter.
It came from the other side of the room, soft at first, then louder, echoing in waves. Her roommate. Again.
Racheal slowly turned her head. Her roommate was sprawled across her bed, legs dangling in the air, laughing at something invisible. The sound was eerie, broken, like it didn't belong in the room at all. Sometimes it was laughter, sometimes muttering, sometimes an eerie silence that pressed harder than any sound.
Racheal's skin crawled. "Seriously?" she whispered. "I'm losing my mind out there, and I come back here to this?"
The roommate suddenly sat up, her eyes wide, her smile crooked. She tilted her head, staring directly at Racheal as though she had heard every single word.
"You think they're all after you," she said in a sing-song voice, her tone chillingly playful. "But maybe… maybe it's you after yourself."
Then she chuckled and flopped back down, resuming her humming as if nothing had happened.
Racheal's heart thudded against her chest. "What does that even mean?" she muttered, clutching her pillow tightly. She buried her face into it, trying to block out the sound. But the humming only grew louder, like it was sinking into her thoughts.
Her phone buzzed on the desk. She reached for it quickly, half-expecting another threatening message, but the screen was empty. No new texts. No calls.
The silence pressed harder. Somehow, that silence was worse than any insult or taunt Mr. Unknown could have thrown at her. Because silence made her imagination spiral. Silence made her think of what could come next. Silence felt like chains tightening around her—chains of fear, chains of secrets, chains of loneliness.
She sat up, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of it all crush her.
She couldn't trust Erica.
She couldn't escape Mr. Unknown.
She couldn't even find peace in her own room.
Her roommate giggled again, whispering something too soft for Racheal to catch. It was only one sentence, broken and sharp, but it made her freeze.
"Secrets always… find their way out."
Racheal's blood ran cold.
For the first time, she wondered: Was her roommate really crazy, or did she know something?
Racheal hugged her knees to her chest, trying to steady her racing thoughts. The shadows in the room seemed to stretch, pressing against the walls, the corners hiding whispers she couldn't quite hear but felt deep in her bones. Every creak, every faint movement made her flinch.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted everything to just stop. But the apartment was quiet—too quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of her roommate's soft, mocking song.
Her mind raced. Could she really trust anyone right now? Or was every smile, every glance, just another chain tightening around her?
And yet… a stubborn spark flickered inside her. No matter how dark it got, no matter how tangled the silence, she would not let it break her. Not completely.