The first one was quiet.
Zaire stood at her window, watching her drink from the sipper before bed. Within minutes, her hand trembled, her eyelids heavy. When she tried to scream, the sound never came. He slipped in, dragged her out, and no one in the Turner neighborhood even stirred.
At Hastings, he tied her wrists to the rusted gurney. The air smelled of mold and iron. Her body writhed faintly against the straps, but she couldn't stop him. He traced the knife against her arm like an artist sketching on canvas. The cuts weren't wild—they were precise, deliberate. He wanted her awake, watching, suffering. She whimpered through clenched teeth, her eyes wide with terror. Zaire smiled at that.
When he carved the word BLOCKED into her stomach, the blood came hot and fast, soaking through the thin gown he had forced her into. Her breath rattled until it simply stopped. She was the first. The trial run.
Andrew's body fought the poison. His muscles spasmed, his legs kicking weakly as Zaire dragged him across the dirt trail into the woods. The boy was heavier than Hannah, stronger even in paralysis—but it didn't matter. Zaire relished the challenge.
At Hastings, Zaire didn't strap him down right away. He wanted to see Andrew struggle. He wanted to hear the thuds of his half-dead body against the floor. Then he started breaking him. Fingers first—one snap at a time, sharp cracks echoing through the empty hospital. Then his shoulders, pulled until the tendons tore. Andrew's face twisted in agony, his veins bulging, his teeth grinding so hard blood seeped from his gums.
"Remember Mia?" Zaire whispered, dragging the knife down Andrew's chest. "Remember how helpless she looked? That's you now."
He opened him slowly, slicing deep, pulling flesh apart as Andrew's body seized and shuddered. The boy's final breath came in a soundless scream, eyes rolled white.
Chad was different. Chad wasn't just another kill—he was the centerpiece, the one that needed to be seen. Zaire didn't want him to just die. He wanted him to confess. To burn. To be remembered.
So he set the stage: the chair, the branding, the boiling wax. He recorded every second. Unlike Hannah and Andrew, Chad wasn't just a body in the hospital basement—he was a message to the world.
And Mia was the intended audience.
Each death led back to Hastings Hospital. The Angel's Trumpet poison ensured silence. The forest trails kept neighbors blind. The hospital walls soaked in the screams no one else would ever hear.
Zaire hadn't just killed them.
He had perfected them.
*****
The ropes burned my wrists raw, but I barely felt it. My eyes were locked on Sebastian—broken, bloody, still breathing.
And then Zaire crouched in front of me, his grin stretched too wide, his eyes alight with something beyond sanity. He stroked my cheek like I was porcelain.
"You'll love me, Mia. You have to. I killed for you. I bled for you. I tore the world apart to make you mine." His hand tightened on my chin until it hurt. "But he—" his eyes flicked to Sebastian— "he ruined everything. He made you see me as weak. He made you think you needed him."
Sebastian's hoarse voice cut through the dark. "Fuck you, Zaire! Let her go!"
The answer came with Zaire's fist. A sickening crack as Sebastian's head snapped to the side, blood spraying across the floor.
I screamed his name, but Zaire only laughed. The sound bounced off the cracked tile walls like a lullaby sung wrong. "Don't worry, Mia. He's not worth your tears. I'll take care of him—then you'll see. You'll finally see."
The ropes burned into my wrists every time I struggled. Zaire had tied me so tightly to the wooden chair that my skin was raw, the fibers digging in with every twitch. Across from me, Sebastian was worse off—his hands chained above his head to a rusted pipe jutting out from the wall. His face was pale, streaked with blood, lips trembling from the cold.
"Don't—don't waste your strength," he rasped. "That's what he wants."
But I couldn't stop. My pulse thundered in my ears. Every second felt like the last chance we'd get.
And then I saw it. The chair leg—splintered from age, one screw already half-loose. If I rocked just hard enough...
I started to shift my weight back and forth, the chair squeaking on the cracked tiles. Harder. Harder. My heart pounded as the wood creaked.
Sebastian realized what I was doing. "Mia... don't stop. Do it."
I grit my teeth, rocked harder—and suddenly the chair leg gave way with a sharp snap. The whole frame tipped, sending me crashing sideways onto the floor. Pain shot through my shoulder, but I barely felt it.
The fall loosened the ropes just enough. I twisted my wrists, ignoring the skin tearing, and finally slipped one hand free. My fingers shook as I ripped the rest of the rope away.
Sebastian's eyes were wide now, desperate. "Mia... my pocket."
I scrambled over to him, searching. His pocket had a small glint of metal—God bless him. A bent paperclip.
Hands trembling, I jammed it into the lock of the old cuffs. My vision blurred with sweat and panic. It wasn't working—then I twisted just right and heard a soft click.
The shackle snapped open.
Sebastian collapsed into my arms, his weight nearly knocking me back. He coughed violently, then gripped my hand. "We need to move. Now. Before he comes back."
But even as he said it—
The faint hum began.
We stumbled into the hospital's bowels. Hallways stretched forever, lined with rusted gurneys and shattered glass. The rain outside beat against broken windows, and every drop sounded like a ticking clock.
Then came the hum.
Low. Off-key. Childlike.
"Mi-a..."
The sound wasn't far. It slithered through the halls, closer, closer.
Sebastian shoved me behind a collapsed doorway. "We have to split—he's too fast if we're together."
"No!" My voice broke. "I'm not leaving you!"
"Please," he whispered, bloody and desperate. "If he gets both of us, it's over. I can distract him. You can get out."
Before I could answer, the hum turned into footsteps—soft, deliberate, closing in.
We had no choice. I kissed his cheek, salty with sweat and blood. "Don't die."
Then we split.
The hospital was alive. Doors slammed in the wind. Pipes groaned. My footsteps echoed, betraying me at every turn.
And Zaire was everywhere. His humming followed me through the halls, a sick game of hide and seek. Sometimes it stopped completely, and that was worse—because I never knew if he was around the corner.
I ducked into a storage room, heart pounding. Dust choked the air, and broken cabinets loomed like shadows. That's when I heard it:
Sebastian screaming.
"FIGHT ME, YOU BASTARD!"
I bolted toward the sound.
When I found them, Sebastian was on the ground, coughing blood, Zaire's boot pressing into his chest. Zaire's face was wild, twisted with fury and joy.
"This is what you wanted, huh?" he snarled, raising the jagged piece of rebar like a spear. "This is what happens when you take her from me!"
"No!" I screamed, and before he could strike, I grabbed the nearest thing—a rusted metal tray—and smashed it into the back of his skull.
The clang echoed like a gunshot. Zaire staggered, then turned, blood streaming down his temple.
For the first time, his grin faltered.
But only for a second.
He laughed. A guttural, animal sound. "Oh, Mia. You hit harder than I thought."
I dragged Sebastian up, and we ran.
The maze of the hospital seemed endless. The rain hammered on shattered windows, lightning flashing across the blackened corridors. Every gust of wind carried Zaire's humming—soft, twisted, broken.
Sebastian stumbled beside me, half-dead, his weight heavy on my shoulder. His breaths came shallow and wet, and his blood left a smear across the tiles as we ran.
We turned another corner—and Zaire was there.
He stepped out of the shadows like he'd been waiting all along, a grin splitting his blood-streaked face. His hood clung to his soaked hair, his eyes fever-bright. In his hand, he dragged a jagged hunk of metal across the walls, sending sparks flying.
"Don't run," he crooned. "You know this place belongs to me. Every hallway leads back to me. Every locked door... every dead end... I'll always find you."
He lunged.
Sebastian shoved me aside, barely able to stand but still protecting me. They hit the floor hard, Zaire straddling him, his knees pinning Sebastian's arms. With a sick gleam in his eyes, Zaire picked up a jagged stone from the debris.
He held it high, his muscles trembling with rage.
"I should've killed you first," Zaire hissed, his voice breaking between a laugh and a sob. "All you ever did was take her from me. You think she loves you? No... no, she was mine before she ever knew your name. Mine when I watched her sleep. Mine when I cut open everyone who hurt her. She was born to belong to me."
Sebastian thrashed, blood smearing across the floor, but he was too weak. The stone hovered above his face.
"This is how it ends," Zaire whispered, his grin splitting wider. "Your skull cracking under my hands—Mia screaming, begging for me to stop—"
And then it happened.
Before Zaire could swing, a sharp crack split the air. His body jerked forward, eyes wide, as Mia drove a rusted garden fork through the back of his skull.
The prongs burst through his forehead, spraying hot blood across Sebastian's face. The stone clattered from Zaire's hand. His fingers twitched once, twice—then went slack.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Sebastian's chest heaved under Zaire's corpse. The warm spray of blood slid down his lips, over his teeth.
Mia's breath came in broken sobs as she yanked the fork free. Zaire's body crumpled to the side, twitching once more before going still.
Sebastian pushed himself up, coughing, spitting blood onto the tiles. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing more red across his cheek.
Mia grabbed him, pulling him into a shaking hug.
"It's over," she whispered, her voice raw. "It's over, Sebastian."
He clutched her back, but his laugh was hollow, broken. "I would kiss you right now... but it feels like Zaire's still in my mouth."
Mia scoffed, her tears mixing with a shaky laugh. "Oh, by the way..." She sniffled. "...you're the valedictorian."
Sebastian actually laughed, though it hurt. "Then I guess I've got something to live for. Go to prom with me?"
But before she could answer—
Zaire's hand shot up.
Blood pouring from his face, a guttural growl ripped from his throat. He clawed at Mia's ankle with inhuman strength, dragging himself upright despite the fork still lodged in his skull. His eye dangled, half-detached, his breath gurgling through torn flesh.
Mia screamed. Sebastian grabbed the fallen stone with both hands and brought it down on Zaire's head. Once. Twice. Again.
The third blow caved Zaire's skull in with a wet, final crunch. His grip loosened. His body collapsed.
This time, he didn't get back up.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Only the sound of rain dripping through the broken ceiling, and our ragged breaths.
Then Sebastian turned to me, his bloody smile trembling. "I wasn't kidding about prom."
I laughed through my tears, shaking my head, and wrapped my arms around him.
As we staggered out of the hospital, the night erupted with the wail of sirens. Red and blue lights flashed against the wet asphalt, slicing through the darkness. Police cars screeched to a stop at the gates.
We didn't look back.
*****
The weeks after Hastings felt like a blur—police reports, therapy sessions, waking up in the middle of the night to the echo of Zaire's laugh. But tonight wasn't about that. Tonight was different.
The dress Rose helped me pick out shimmered under the porch light as I nervously adjusted the straps. My hands shook, not because of fear this time, but because this was something I never thought I'd have. Normal. A prom.
A car horn blared softly outside.
When I stepped out, Sebastian was leaning against his beat-up car, dressed in a black suit that didn't quite fit but somehow made him look like he belonged in every dream I'd ever had. His tie was crooked, and his lip still had a faint scar, but his smile when he saw me—God, that smile—made everything else disappear.
He opened the passenger door, mock-bowing. "Your carriage awaits, my lady."
I laughed, rolling my eyes, but the sound was real this time. Not forced. Not broken. "You clean up better than I expected."
"Don't get used to it." He grinned, but his eyes softened when they lingered on me. "You look... wow. Just wow."
******
The prom itself felt like stepping into another universe. Lights strung across the gym ceiling, glittering gowns, loud music, and laughter that didn't sound haunted. For once, no shadows followed me.
Sebastian and I danced, awkward at first, his hand resting carefully at my waist, like he was afraid I might shatter. But I leaned into him, my forehead against his chest, and for the first time in forever, I felt safe.
He whispered, "Remember what I asked in the hospital?"
I tilted my head, smirking. "Which part? The 'I would kiss you but it feels like Zaire in my mouth' or the prom thing?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Definitely the prom thing."
My breath caught, because here we were. Prom. Together. Alive.
And before I could answer, he leaned in—hesitant at first, then sure, his lips pressing against mine in a kiss that was both gentle and desperate. A kiss that tasted like survival, like hope, like a future I never thought we'd get.
The music swelled around us, but for that moment, the world was quiet. Just us.
When we finally broke apart, I whispered, "Took you long enough."
He laughed, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Worth the wait."
After the prom kiss, Sebastian walks Mia back home. She steps inside, closing the door behind her, smiling to herself.
Then—
Her phone buzzes on the table. One unread message.
The sender ID is blocked.
The message just says:
"Did you miss me?"