The first day I stepped into Saint Helena High, the air felt heavier than usual, as if the entire building was holding its breath. The gates loomed tall, their iron bars blackened with rust, and beyond them, the school grounds looked almost normal—rows of students in uniforms, chatter in the air, backpacks slung over shoulders. But there was something else. Something beneath the surface, like a whisper I couldn't quite catch.
My name is Amara. My parents raised me in a godly home, the type where prayers filled the morning air before breakfast and hymns hummed in the evening after dinner. I grew up with the belief that light always triumphed over darkness. But standing there, staring at Saint Helena High, I wasn't so sure anymore.
A chill slid down my spine. I pulled my cardigan tighter around me and stepped through the gate. The moment my shoes touched the school grounds, I felt it—a presence, thick and unseen, brushing against me. It was like stepping into a room where someone had been staring at you, only to turn their eyes away the second you looked.
Students turned to glance at me, some with curiosity, others with the kind of smirk that made you feel as though you were already the punchline of a joke. A group of girls near the fountain stopped talking altogether when I walked past. Their silence was louder than the laughter echoing down the hallways.
I reminded myself to breathe. New school. New start. Don't let it get to you, Amara.
Inside the main building, the walls were lined with old class photos. Black-and-white frames, smiling faces of students long gone. But as I walked past, I could have sworn their eyes followed me. I paused, leaning in to get a closer look. For a second—just a second—the smile of a boy in the front row shifted into a sneer. My heart skipped, and I blinked hard. When I looked again, it was just a photograph, harmless and still.
"Creepy, right?"
I spun around. A tall boy with pale skin and unruly hair leaned against the locker, his lips twisted in an amused grin. "First day?"
"Yes," I said cautiously.
He chuckled. "Good luck. You'll need it." With that, he shoved his hands into his pockets and disappeared down the hall, whistling a tune I didn't recognize but somehow made my stomach knot.
My classroom was at the end of the corridor. Students were already seated, voices rising and falling in casual chatter. The teacher, Mrs. Gray, introduced me and pointed to an empty seat near the back. I walked past rows of curious eyes, my footsteps echoing louder than they should have.
The girl sitting next to me turned with a smile that seemed too perfect, her lips a shade too red. "Hi, Amara. I'm Annabelle. Welcome to Saint Helena."
Her voice was sweet, almost melodic, but something in her gaze unsettled me. It wasn't the kindness you expected from someone reaching out—it was sharper, calculating. Still, I forced a polite smile. "Thanks."
All through the lesson, I could feel Annabelle's eyes on me. Not in the friendly, let's-be-friends kind of way, but as though she were studying me, taking mental notes of every detail.
At lunch, I found a quiet corner in the courtyard, away from the clusters of laughing groups. The sun should have felt warm on my skin, but instead, the air felt cold, as if shadows clung to me even in daylight.
I unpacked my sandwich, but I wasn't hungry. My gaze wandered to the students across the yard. A group of boys huddled together, whispering too fast, their heads snapping up in unison when a bird flew overhead. A girl near the benches was staring blankly at the sky, unmoving, until her friend shook her back to reality.
This wasn't normal. This wasn't just teenage weirdness. Something was wrong here.
And then it happened.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the boy from the hallway—the one who had warned me. He was sitting under a tree, alone. His head tilted back, eyes closed. At first, it seemed peaceful. But then his lips began moving quickly, whispering words I couldn't hear. His hands trembled, fingers curling unnaturally as though pulled by invisible strings. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and they weren't normal anymore. They glowed faintly, like dying embers.
I froze.
And just as suddenly as it started, it ended. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked around like nothing had happened.
My sandwich slipped from my hand. I couldn't eat. I couldn't even breathe properly.
Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe it was the stress of being new. That's what I told myself. That's what I wanted to believe.
But deep down, I knew better.
Saint Helena High wasn't just a school. It was something else. Something darker.
And I had just walked right into it.