The classroom froze.
No one breathed.
No one blinked.
It felt like even the air tightened itself in terror.
The second knock came—slow, deliberate.
Tok…
Tok…
Tok.
Every tap felt like a hammer striking Amara's spine.
A boy in the corner whispered shakily, "That's him… that's him…"
The teacher pressed a trembling finger to her lips. "Silence. No one moves."
But Amara couldn't stop shaking.
Her legs felt numb, her vision blurring. She clutched the sleeve of Onyedika's shirt, fingers digging into the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.
Then—
the voice came again.
Calm.
Low.
Deadly.
"Amara…
I told you I'd find you."
Amara's breath seized.
Her nails scraped against her palms until they stung.
Onyedika stepped in front of her instantly, eyes sharp, furious, terrified all at once.
"You're not opening that door," he whispered. "No matter what happens."
Another knock, harder this time.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
Students whimpered. One girl began praying under her breath.
The teacher held the door handle with both hands, trying to keep herself together. "We already locked it," she whispered. "He can't get in—"
A scraping sound cut her off.
Metal against metal.
Sharp.
Intentional.
It came from the lock.
Amara's heart dropped.
"He's trying to pick it," someone whispered in horror.
Onyedika's jaw flexed as he slowly reached for the leg of a chair, breaking it off quietly to use as a weapon.
"Stay behind me," he murmured without looking back.
Amara's hands trembled violently.
Her breathing grew fast and uneven—too fast.
"Onyedika," she whispered, voice breaking, "he won't stop. He won't stop until—"
"I won't let him touch you."
Onyedika said it like a vow carved from stone.
"You're not alone this time."
But Amara felt the walls closing in, felt the air thinning.
Another scrape.
Click.
The lock shifted halfway.
Students screamed.
The teacher grabbed the door handle, pushing her entire body weight against it.
"Help me!" she cried.
Several boys rushed to her side, bracing their backs against the door.
The lock clicked again.
The teacher's voice cracked. "He's forcing it!"
Amara squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling out.
Her mind spiraled backward—
To the alley behind her old hostel.
To the darkness.
To his hand crushing her mouth.
To his whisper:
"I like hearing you struggle."
A sob escaped her before she could stop it.
Onyedika heard it—
and something inside him snapped.
He stormed to the door, slamming his shoulder against it with pure, burning rage.
"KELECHI!" he shouted. "You sick bastard! Touch this door again and I swear I'll break your skull!"
Silence.
For a moment—it was terrifyingly quiet.
Then a soft chuckle drifted through the door.
"Bold," Kelechi murmured. "But stupid."
The lock turned another deadly millimeter.
Amara shook uncontrollably.
"Stop," she whispered through tears. "Please stop… please…"
Kelechi's voice softened with chilling affection.
"I missed your voice, Amara…"
Onyedika's grip on the broken chair leg tightened so hard his knuckles blanched.
The lock shifted.
One more click and the door would open.
The teacher sobbed, pushing harder.
The boys bracing the door groaned under the pressure.
"Someone call security again!" the teacher choked.
But everyone's phones were already in silent mode.
The scraping sound grew faster—more urgent.
Onyedika swore under his breath.
"We can't just wait for him to come in. We need a plan."
He scanned the room quickly, then whispered:
"Amara. The back windows. Do they open?"
She held her chest, trying to breathe.
"I… I don't know…"
Onyedika rushed to check—the windows were jammed but not impossible.
"If anything happens," he said urgently, "you climb out, run to the next block, find a teacher, find anyone—"
"No," she whimpered, grabbing his hand. "I'm not leaving you—"
"You have to."
"No—!"
The lock made a final, deadly click.
Everyone gasped.
The handle turned—
slowly.
Onyedika lunged for the door, bracing himself.
"Get back!" he shouted to the class.
The handle twisted all the way.
The door pushed inward an inch—
two inches—
three—
"Push! Push it back!" the teacher screamed.
The students shoved with everything they had.
And then—
"HEY! STEP AWAY FROM THAT DOOR!"
A powerful voice roared from the hallway.
Kelechi's shadow jerked back.
The door was shoved shut.
Footsteps thundered outside—multiple men.
Someone banged from the hallway.
"This is campus security! Move away from the door!"
The lock snapped back into place, relocking from the outside.
For a moment—
the room exhaled in relief.
Students collapsed on the floor.
The teacher slid down the wall, crying.
Amara's legs gave out entirely.
Onyedika caught her in time, guiding her to sit.
"You're safe," he whispered over and over. "You're safe, Amara. I've got you."
But Amara's breaths were uneven—too sharp.
Her voice trembled.
"He won't stop… He won't stop, Onyedika… until someone gets hurt…"
Onyedika brushed her tears away, voice low and fierce.
"Let him try. I'll be here."
But then—
A walkie-talkie from outside the door crackled.
"Suspect is fleeing toward the west block! Repeat—suspect is heading toward west block! He's fast—someone cut him off!"
A second voice responded.
"We're trying, sir! He knows the layout—he keeps disappearing!"
Another voice:
"We found the stabbed teacher—critical condition—ambulance on the way!"
Amara covered her mouth, shaking.
"Kelechi… what are you doing…?"
The classroom fell silent, listening to the chaos outside.
Then—
The walkie-talkie crackled again.
"…Sir, we found something."
"What is it?"
"…You need to see this."
Seconds later—
The guard outside the classroom door spoke directly to the teacher inside.
"Ma'am… we found the suspect's bag behind the science lab.
It has… pictures."
Amara's heart dropped.
Pictures?
"…Pictures of who?" the teacher asked, voice barely steady.
The guard hesitated.
Then slowly, heavily, answered:
"Pictures of a girl.
Hundreds of them."
Everyone in the classroom stared at the door in horror.
The guard's next words shattered the air—
"Pictures of Amara."
Onyedika held her hand so tightly she almost felt his pulse.
Amara's body shook violently.
And then—
The guard added one last thing:
"…There's a knife in the bag.
And a note with tomorrow's date."
Silence.
Amara's lips trembled.
"W-what does the note say?"
A final pause.
Then the guard answered, voice grave:
"It says…
'Tomorrow at 4pm.
The performance hall.
Bring her.'"