All day, I couldn't focus. Annabell's words kept circling in my head like vultures:
"That's when you'll see what this school is really hiding. And maybe… who you really are."
I tried to shake it off, but the more I tried, the louder it echoed. By evening, my stomach felt heavy, twisted, like I'd swallowed a storm.
I sat at my desk, books open in front of me, pretending to study. But my eyes never moved across the page. I stared at the same line over and over, my mind drifting back to her smile—too bright, too sharp, like broken glass hidden in sugar.
The clock ticked. Slowly, painfully. Every second dragged me closer to midnight.
At 11:30, I finally stood up. My heart hammered in my chest as I slipped on my jacket. My parents were asleep. The house was too quiet. I could almost hear my own blood rushing in my ears.
I opened the front door carefully, praying the hinges wouldn't squeak, and stepped into the night.
The air was cold and damp. A thin mist hung low over the streets, curling around the streetlamps like fingers. Each step I took echoed louder than it should have, as if the ground itself was waiting for me.
When I reached the school, it was worse. The building loomed in the fog, tall and crooked, its windows like hollow eyes staring down at me.
I stopped at the gate, suddenly unsure. Maybe I should turn back. Maybe this was a mistake.
Then I heard it.
"Amara…"
My name. Whispered. Soft, but clear enough to slice through the silence.
I spun around. No one was there. The street was empty, the mist thicker than before.
"Amara…"
This time it came from inside the school grounds. A whisper carried by the fog.
I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to move forward. The iron gate creaked as I pushed it open.
Inside, the courtyard was darker than the streets, as if the mist was heavier here. My breath puffed out in white clouds. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.
And then—she appeared.
Annabell stood under the old oak tree near the center of the yard. Her figure was pale against the shadows, her white dress glowing faintly in the moonlight. She didn't wave. She didn't smile. She just stood there, waiting.
"You came," she said, her voice smooth, almost sweet.
I tried to answer, but my voice caught in my throat.
She tilted her head. "Good. That means you're ready."
"Ready for what?" I finally managed.
Her smile returned—too wide, too perfect.
"To see."
She turned and walked toward the back of the school. I hesitated, my body screaming at me to run. But my legs betrayed me, carrying me after her.
We stopped at a rusted door half-hidden by vines. Annabell pressed her hand against it, and to my shock, the lock snapped open with a sound like breaking bones.
She looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming strangely in the moonlight.
"Don't be afraid," she whispered. "Once you step inside, nothing will ever be the same again."
The door creaked open, a wave of cold air spilling out from the darkness within.
I stood at the threshold, staring into the black. Every instinct begged me not to move forward. But something deeper—something I couldn't name—pulled me in.
I took one step. Then another. The darkness swallowed me whole.
And the door slammed shut behind me.