Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Mara's voice was a harsh whisper from behind me. “Leave her. It's not safe.”
I wanted to agree, to retreat to the imagined safety of the dorm, but my conscience seized control. Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door and pulled it open. Regina stood there, a trembling figure of anxiety. Before she could stumble in, Mara and I slipped out.
I grabbed her arm to ensure she came with us. “We're getting out of here,” I said firmly.
We started jogging down the hall, half-dragging Regina along. As we hurried through the corridor, I was able to see that the once-familiar walls were now defaced with unsettling symbols that seemed to watch us with ominous intent. They were a series of angular lines intersecting in ways that suggested a methodical, purposeful design, each stroke deliberate and calculated.
Some bore a resemblance to runes or glyphs, others were more abstract, evoking a sense of ritualistic origin. They seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy as if imbued with a will of their own. Most disturbing was the medium used to craft them—it looked like blood. The crimson was too dark and too viscous to be anything else.
It glistened under the harsh fluorescent lights, fresh and stark against the institutional beige the walls were meant to be. I didn't know what these signs represented, but the primal part of my brain recognized them as a threat and now, they were all around us, an inescapable declaration that we were not alone—not safe. We were not the hunters in this twisted game, but the hunted.
The surreal turn of the evening deepened as ‘Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree’ began to blare over the PA system, its cheerful notes jarring. Regina's face, wet with tears, was a mask of confusion and fear, her strawberry blonde hair a stark contrast against her pale skin.
When she begged for answers, her voice broken and pleading, Mara and I exchanged a glance that carried. Explaining the situation to Regina would only escalate her panic.
What we needed was her cooperation, not hysteria. I was in no position to calm or soothe anyone when I was barely holding myself together. As we reached the end of the hall, she made a move towards the elevators. I reached out, snagging the back of her striped sweater.
“Have you never seen a single horror movie?” I chided, steering her towards the stairwell.
We descended the stairs rapidly, skipping steps in our haste until we rounded the landing to the second floor. There, at the bottom of the next flight, stood a masked figure—a chilling presence in the dim light. His mask was a canvas of horror—a pallid face split by a too-wide, sinister grin that seemed almost carved into the surface, with hollow eyes that created an abyss no light could penetrate. The blood that stained it was stark against a white base, while the mouth gave the impression of grinning mirth twisted with violence.
It was a visage that simultaneously promised cruelty and reveled in its execution, rooting us to the spot as his head tilted and those empty eyes locked onto ours. My pulse hammered in my ears, and my breath became shallow, sharp intakes of air that did little to quell the rising panic.
“Regina,” he beckoned softly, his voice a distorted version of familiarity.
She paused, then in a voice threaded with hope, murmured a name. "Damien?"
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” My arm shot out, barring her path as she instinctively moved forward.
Her gaze snapped to mine, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. "But that's Damien," she protested. “My boyfriend.”
“I don’t care if he’s god himself, look at him.” I insisted, my eyes darting back to the bloodied figure.
“He’s wearing a mask and is covered in blood. Use your goddamn head, Regina,” Mara snapped.
“Come here, Bunny,” Damien commanded, his tone still gentle.
It was a giant red flag, but Regina was apparently color-blind.
“Come on, he won’t hurt us.” She pushed me aside and hurried down the stairs.
“No! What the hell are you doing?” I shouted after her.
“I told you we should’ve left her dumbass in the hallway,” Mara quipped, her elevated tone hinting at her fear as she grabbed my arm as if to stop me from going down too.
I wasn’t that stupid.
If I saw my man covered in blood and wearing some freaky-ass mask on any day that wasn’t Halloween, I would be getting the hell away from him, not rushing into his embrace.
Regina, with tear-streaked cheeks, drew closer to the masked figure who remained at the stairwell's base. As she approached, he reached out, his gloved fingers tracing the path of her tears with an unsettling tenderness.
“Good girl,” he crooned, the praise sounding all sorts of wrong. “What are you doing out in the halls? You weren't supposed to leave.”
Confusion etched deep lines on Regina's face, her voice trembling, "How could you expect me to stay tied up? Do you know what’s going on? Whose blood is that?”