It wasn't a short drop, but I didn't feel pain. Somehow, I landed without a bruise, and even my phone, lying a few feet away, was untouched… just like me.
I stood up, brushed the dirt off my clothes, and flicked on my phone's flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing a room even dimmer than the one above.
It looked like a small office, frozen in time–ornate, antique. Everything shimmered with faded royalty: golden furniture, maroon velvet sofas, curtains heavy and still, maybe covering a window… though I couldn't be sure. They hung so stiffly they felt like part of the wall.
Spider webs laced across every corner, whispering the age of the place. The dust was thick–so thick I had to cover my mouth and nose just to breathe.
To the left, a regal desk gleamed faintly in the light. Behind it, a tall-backed armchair with gold-trimmed edges and maroon upholstery sat like a throne. Above it hung a portrait of a stern-looking man with a thick mustache. The inscription beneath read:
"Xavier Paragon – Founder of Blackridge Academy, Since 1001"
While my eyes wandered, my toe caught on something small. It slid across the floor with a soft clink.
I pointed the light down and grinned–it was a key.
"Here you are!" I whispered, crouching to pick it up. Hope flickered. I turned around, eyes instinctively glancing toward the gaping hole I'd fallen through--but there was no way back up. My smile faded.
Then I spotted it–a door. It had to be the way in and out of this office.
I rushed over and scanned it top to bottom. But... no keyhole. No doorknob. Nothing.
Frustration surged. I clenched my jaw and turned away, then spun back, refusing to give up.
That's when I saw it--mounted to the wall beside the door. A plastic and glass first aid box. And in the corner of its frame… a keyhole.
I looked at the key in my hand and slid it into the keyhole. The moment I turned it, a low groan echoed–like a single key had unlocked a thousand doors.
Click after click, the sound rippled outward, each one fading farther into the dark, like a chain reaction unraveling deep beneath the ground.
The door that had no knob creaked open. I pulled it with a smirk.
"I'm coming for you, Freddy," I muttered.
Beyond it was a narrow, bricked path, littered with freshly fallen leaves. Tall trees flanked either side like sentinels. No wind, no movement–but the air was ice cold, heavy with something unspoken. I glanced left, then right, jerking back both times. The stillness was unnerving, like the forest was holding its breath.
I hesitated at the threshold, trying to muster the courage to step out, when a squeaking sound pierced the silence.
My eyes darted around–until I saw it: a swing hanging from a tree branch, swaying gently.
There was no wind.
And yet, it moved–as if someone had just leapt off moments ago.
Goosebumps crawled up my spine. I slammed the door shut and spun around.
The hole I had fallen through now had a staircase leading up.
"That wasn't there before."
Without hesitation, I bolted up the stairs and reached the warehouse door. I shoved the key in–nothing. Locked. Stubborn.
"I've had enough."
I kicked the door hard.
It flung open.
Relief flooded through me. I ran. I didn't look back. I didn't stop. I sprinted all the way home.
When I burst through the door, my aunt was already waiting. Her eyes widened in worry, and she rushed toward me. I raised a hand and stepped back.
"I'm fine. Just tripped on the way back," I said quickly and darted to my room.
That's when I realized I still had this key clutched in my hand.
I was still scared.
And the night was far from over.
Every creak, every shadow made me flinch.
It was a night carved into my bones–a fright night I'll never forget.
Last night taught me a lesson.
The second my eyes finally shut, my alarm screamed through the silence, jolting me like a nightmare had come to life. I got ready and dragged myself to school, but focus? Impossible.
The whole day, I couldn't stop staring at Frederick.
That's how deep he was burning under my skin.
My anger simmered, waiting–begging–for a reason to erupt.
And it got one.
We were in the canteen–Shawn, Cris, Dorian, and I–when Frederick strutted past like he hadn't locked me in a room the night before. That was it.
"Hey, Fredd!" I yelled loud enough to stop time.
He turned slowly, his fake smile stretched wide, but his eyes–those eyes–still dripped with venom.
"Hey!" he grinned, playing the polite card. How noble.
I shoved my chair back and stalked toward him, each step slicing through my restraint, until we were face to face. Only three feet separated us.
"Left without saying goodbye last night?" I said with a smile sharp enough to cut glass, my tone laced with poison.
He stammered, "Yeah, I was–"
I didn't let him finish.
"What? Busy laughing with your friend?"
I didn't realize how close my face had gotten to his. My breath hit his cheek, hot and furious.
I wanted to grab him, slam him into the wall, and make him pay.
But then–hands. Two firm hands gripped my shoulders and yanked me back.
It was Cris.
She stared at me, eyes wide.
"What are you doing? He's–"
"He's what?" I snapped, shaking her off. "A freaking captain? So what?"
Then I turned on her, my voice colder.
"And you. I can't believe you gave him my address."
My glare traced her head to toe, every ounce of trust in me shattered.
"What are you talking about?" Cris narrowed her eyes at me, clearly offended. "Why would I give anyone your address?"
I was fuming–but one look at her, the confusion on her face, the way she stood her ground–it only took a minute to know she was telling the truth.
She didn't give it to him.
I blinked and shifted my focus–Frederick was already turning away, ready to slip out of this like it meant nothing.
"Where are you headed?" I rushed in front of him, planting myself in his path. I looked up, holding his stare. He was taller–sure–but I stood like I could level mountains.
"Hey! Calm down! Don't make this a big deal," Frederick snapped, his patience thinning.
"You humiliated me. You mocked me. And now I'm the one making it a big deal?" My voice cracked through the air.
He scoffed. "Why do you girls always have to cry about everything? It happens to all of us! They made me run naked around the school–did I cry? No."
He shoved past me, brushing me off like I was just another tantrum in his day.
That was it. I felt the heat rush up my neck. My fist clenched tight. I was ready to hit him, to knock that smug attitude right off his face–
But then Cris stepped between us, arms around me before I could move. "He's not worth it," she whispered.
And just like that, the fire in me softened. My hand loosened. My breath came out in a heavy wave.
I didn't say anything. I didn't have to.
The day had been chaos, a storm–but in the middle of it, something good happened: I made friends.
Real ones.
We walked out of school together, side by side, like we owned the place. There was something magnetic about us, something that made people stare–and for the first time in forever, I was actually smiling.
But just as we were about to leave the gate, a loud crash echoed behind us--like something heavy had fallen.
We turned around and saw two men struggling to carry a table toward the principal's office. With a loud crack, they dropped it–one of the legs snapped clean off. Muttering curses, they picked it up and continued arguing as they dragged it down the hall.
My eyes drifted past them, drawn to the portrait behind the headmaster sitting in his chair.
Something about it gripped me. I stepped closer to the office door, heart thudding.
The room–it was nearly identical to the one I found beneath the warehouse. The layout, the aura... but the furniture here was modern. Sleek. Fresh.
Then I saw it–the portrait.
Same face. But this time, the man had a beard. The name beneath it read: "Nile Paragon – Founder of Blackridge Academy, Since 2002."
Confusion crashed into me.
This wasn't right.