The first bell of the morning rang through the air, thin and metallic, echoing across the schoolyard like a warning nobody paid attention to. Students hurried into the hallways, chatter buzzing around the girl like the hum of restless bees. She clutched her books tighter against her chest, her hair brushing across her cheeks as she walked, head lowered but lips carrying the trace of a smile.
To anyone watching, she looked like every other girl: quiet, polite, too soft for a world that didn't forgive softness. Her name drifted through the corridors in whispers, sometimes kind, sometimes cruel. She wasn't popular. She wasn't hated either. She simply existed in that fragile space where you could easily vanish, and no one would notice until it was too late.
At home, she was different. Her laughter carried through the small house where she lived with her parents and her older brother. He was her shield, though she rarely admitted it. Whenever boys teased her, it was her brother who stepped in, his voice low and dangerous. Whenever she cried, it was his hand that rested on her shoulder, steady, unshakable. If she was light, he was fire — untamed, burning, ready to protect.
That morning, she left the house with a piece of toast in her mouth, waving goodbye to her brother at the door. "Don't be late!" he called, half-smiling, though his eyes lingered longer than usual, as if sensing something unseen.
She didn't know it would be the last time she saw him like that — alive in his normal life, untouched by horror.
The school day unfolded with its usual rhythm: teachers droning at the front, students passing notes, laughter cutting through boredom. Yet, behind the laughter, there were shadows. She could feel them watching. A group of boys, her classmates, always too loud, too sure of themselves, always with smirks that never reached their eyes. They had been circling her for weeks now, their words sharp, their stares sharper.
She told herself it was nothing. That they were just bullies, like the kind you eventually forget. But deep down, her stomach twisted whenever she caught them staring too long. There was something in their eyes she couldn't name — hunger, cruelty, something darker than ordinary cruelty.
At lunch, they cornered her in the hallway. Their leader, a boy with cold eyes and the smile of someone who thought the world belonged to him, leaned close."You're walking home alone today, right?" His voice was smooth, rehearsed.She froze. "Why?""Just asking," he said with a grin, stepping back, his friends laughing behind him.
She didn't realize that was the first move in a trap already closing.
The day ended like any other. She packed her bag slowly, waiting for the classroom to empty before leaving. Outside, the sun dipped low, spilling red across the horizon — a sunset too beautiful to belong to an ordinary day. She lingered a moment, staring at it, feeling an unease she couldn't explain.
She took the usual path home, a narrow street between old houses and silent shops. Her shoes tapped against the concrete, quickening as she realized the street was quieter than normal. No children playing. No neighbors chatting. Just silence.
Then she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned. The same boys from earlier. Their grins stretched unnaturally wide, their eyes glinting with something she now recognized fully: malice.
"Going home?" the leader asked.Her throat tightened. "Yes.""Not tonight," he said.
The world shifted in that instant. The air thickened, her pulse thundered in her ears, and before she could scream, hands grabbed her, dragging her into the shadow of an abandoned building.
Her books scattered on the ground. Her bag ripped from her shoulder. She tried to fight, but their laughter drowned her cries. The more she struggled, the tighter they held her, like wolves toying with prey.
"Quiet," one hissed, pressing a hand over her mouth. "No one's coming. No one cares."
And in that moment, she believed it.
The last thing she saw before the darkness of the building swallowed her was the fading red of the sunset — the sky bleeding as though it already knew what was to come.
Back at home, her brother sat by the window, staring at the empty street. The toast plate was still on the table, her laughter still echoing faintly in the house. Hours passed. The clock ticked, louder and louder.
When the night deepened and she still hadn't returned, he stood up, uneasy, a strange dread crawling up his spine. Something was wrong. He could feel it.
He didn't know it yet, but the countdown had already begun.Day One of Hell had started.