Chapter 47: DEAD 2

I walked straight to the main building, ignoring the chatter and scattered students milling around trying to get to their stuff or friends. My mind was already halfway to mine, thinking about nothing except getting my bag and heading home.

The hallway itself was quiet, the fluorescent lights above buzzing faintly and stopped as I reached my locker. I leaned forward and punched in the passcode,1715, because honestly, who had the energy for something complicated? The lock clicked open, and I pulled the door back, expecting to see my bag sitting there like i left it.

Except...

Nothing.

I blinked once, twice, staring into the empty space. No books, no bag, no phone. Just a hollow void staring back at me.

What the hell?

Maybe I’d somehow put my stuff in the wrong locker? It had been a long day, and I wouldn’t put it past myself. I shut the door, took a step back, and double-checked the few stickers etched on the front. It was mine, alright. My brows furrowed as I leaned in and punched the code again.

The lock clicked open, same as before, and the door swung wide to reveal the same infuriating emptiness.

I let out a sharp breath, leaning my head against the cool metal frame. Someone was playing with me. Today of all happy days, someone thought this was a great time to test my patience. Someone was begging so hard to untimely death.

I stood there for a moment, debating whether try again, but instead, my eyes caught on something. A small piece of purple paper lay in the very back of the locker, folded neatly like a damn invitation.

What in the—

I reached in and picked it up, unfolding it carefully. The paper smelled faintly of lavender, which was somehow even more annoying. My eyes skimmed the words scribbled in a rushed, jagged hand.

**'Meet me at the old basement. —H.'**

For a second, I just stared at it, the words not really sinking in. Then, slowly, my brain caught up.

**H.**

Heather.

Oh, did the mouse just delivered itself to the cat? That’s what this was? Or did I get the name wrong.

I mean I planned to call Tabitha on my way home to put an eyes on Heather and send me her recent activities and location.

But see, the universe finally agreed that I didn't deserve the trash it was throwing at me.

I stared at the note again, the rage bubbling slowly in my chest. My bag was gone. My phone, my books—gone. And now, I was being summoned like some kind of servant.

I crumpled the paper in my hand, stuffing it into my pocket as I shut the locker door harder than I needed to. Fine. If Heather wanted to play games, I’d play.

I love games. Everyone loves games.

I made my way out of the main building, clutching the crumpled note in my pocket.

The old basement was in the last building on campus, a crumbling structure that the school pretended didn’t exist. Most students avoided it, not out of fear of being caught, but because of the stories tied to it.

Frankie had told me once that the basement had been a hot spot for everything shady you could imagine—skipping class, smoking, making out, even sex. The lower hierarchy kids were often dragged there to be bullied. It was some kind of unspoken hellhole for the unfortunate.

Then, one day, a student was found beaten to death there.

The school tried to save face by blaming some small-town serial killer who conveniently vanished right after, but people kinda knew it was an inside job. No CCTV, no witnesses willing to talk, and no arrests. After that, the basement was locked up and became one of those 'stay away or face expulsion' zones.

Yet here I was, heading straight for it.

The building itself was practically a ghost. Faded paint peeled off the walls, and vines crawled up its sides like nature was trying to claim it. I glanced around, making sure no one saw me before slipping through the broken side gate.

When I reached the entrance, the first thing I noticed was the lock on the door—or rather, what was left of it. Someone slash my problem had recently broken it, the jagged edges of the metal gleaming faintly under the setting sun.

I pushed the door open, and the faint creak echoed in the empty hall. The air was damp, and it smelled like mildew and regret. I paused for a moment, listening for any sounds. Nothing.

Inside, I spotted the inner door that led to the basement. It was slightly ajar, revealing a narrow staircase leading down into darkness. A chill ran through me, but I shoved it aside.

I took the steps slowly, there were groaning under my weight. The deeper I went, the colder it got. The dim light from above barely reached this far, leaving most of the staircase covered in shadows.

I hit the bottom step and paused, the basement stretching out in front of me.

"You do have nerves to show up after what you did. That’s really concerning," I called into the darkness, my fists tightly clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms.

The sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere ahead, followed by the flick of a switch. Suddenly, harsh, flickering light flooded the basement. My eyes instinctively shut against the glare, blinking rapidly as I adjusted.

"And you," her voice rang out, dripping with mockery, "do have the nerves to show up so bravely after your near-death experience."

She stepped into the light, her smug expression in place. Her red hair was tied back, revealing her cheekbones and the infuriating smirk playing on her lips. In one hand, she gripped a bat, the faded wood marred with splinters. In the other, my bag dangled loosely, like it was some cheap toy she picked up on a whim.

"You have a strong mind, I’ll give you that. Or is it just pride? Ego?" she continued, tilting her head slightly as if she was genuinely curious. "That false confidence that builds up when you make people squirm in fear? When people think you have no weaknesses?"

She took a few slow steps toward me.

"Heard you broke down after the incident," she said, her tone almost gleeful. She then paused, letting the words hang in the air before flashing her teeth in a mockery of a smile. "It’s bad I couldn’t be there to see it, I want to cry"

She then held my bag up, swaying it slightly like she was taunting me, the bat resting casually over her shoulder.

You know, the only fun thing about people is the part where they underestimate you nonstop, and think you're just a highschooler with literally zero ideas of how the world works.

I looked back at the basement door, and suddenly wished no one finds us.