The city outside lay in silence, every dorm room swallowed by sleep—except Jade’s.

Her head throbbed from the crash against the wall, each pulse sending a warm stream of blood down her cheek. She staggered upright, her hands trembling as they pressed against the mattress for balance. The room felt heavier, like the air itself had thickened with menace.

“Hello, Luke!” she called, her voice unsteady. “Are you there?”

Only silence answered.

She squinted into the gloom. The only light came from the faint scatter of stars through the window, distant and useless. A shaky sigh escaped her as she groped along the wall. Her fingers brushed metal, and with a flick—

The room blazed to life.

Relief poured through her chest as the bulbs lit everything in sharp, sterile brightness. The familiar outlines of the dorm snapped back into place: her desk, her roommate’s bed, the dresser. On the nightstand, a half-melted candle stood beside a box of matches, their quiet presence mocking the terror of moments before.

“Luke!” she yelled again, her voice breaking.

Her breath came fast, each gulp of air draining her strength instead of restoring it. The trauma rattled through her bones.

Her eyes fell on the blue jeans discarded near the foot of the bed, halfway across the thin line that divided her space from her roommate’s. She staggered toward them, dragging her feet, the images of what just happened replaying in her mind like a broken reel.

Then it grabbed her.

Hands—cold, unseen—latched onto her legs. She screamed as she was yanked downward, her knees crashing against the hard floor. Her jeans slipped from her grasp. In the brief second before the light above flickered, she saw it: red scars etched into her thighs, a grotesque map in the shape of a palm.

“What the hell?” she gasped.

Her heart pounded, her chest rising and falling too fast. She lifted her left leg, inspecting the mark. The skin was angry red, swelling slightly as if freshly burned.

“What the hell!” she cried again, voice cracking.

She pressed her fingers into it, bracing for pain. None came. Not a sting. Not even tenderness. Only silence beneath her skin.

“This is strange,” she whispered.

Her thoughts spiraled. Luke’s warning—we’re not alone—echoed in her ears. None of it made sense, but the weight of his words pressed harder now, clawing into her.

With trembling hands, she finally slid her jeans on and forced herself toward the closet. A black top lay crumpled near the door. She snatched it up and pulled it over her head, her eyes darting across the room for any trace of Luke.

Nothing.

Only a packet of unopened condoms on the desk—Luke’s last, almost mocking, evidence of being here. No shoes. No shirt. No sign he had ever existed in the room with her.

Her chest tightened. Did he run? Did he abandon me? The thought pierced her, but she shook it off violently. No. He’s in danger. He has to be.

She steadied herself at the door, fingers trembling against the knob. An icy chill seeped into her skin, crawling up her arm. Gritting her teeth, she twisted it open. The hinges moaned softly as the door creaked, the sound echoing down the corridor.

Behind her, the dorm still blazed with artificial light. Ahead—only suffocating darkness.

She drew in a long breath, puffing it out into the chill as she stepped over the threshold.

“Luke!” Her voice rang out, bouncing along the empty hall. “Luke! Where are you?!”

She stretched her hand along the wall, fingertips brushing cold plaster as she searched for a switch. A sudden whoosh of air darted past her ear. Her heart skipped, and she scrambled, fumbling faster until her hand struck plastic. She flipped it.

For a second, light chased away the shadows.

Then dread slid its fingers down her spine. The bulbs stuttered, flickered—buzzing angrily like trapped insects.

“Come on!” She smacked the switch twice, desperate. The flickering only worsened, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Another whoosh. Her body jolted.

“Luke?!” Her voice cracked, eyes narrowing into the dark. “Luke, is that you?”

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Goosebumps raced across her arms, her knees knocking as fear rooted her to the spot.

The footsteps came next. Slow. Steady. Echoing down the hallway.

She froze, unable to lift her legs, as if the floor had hardened around her feet.

“You don’t belong here,” a voice sneered—a woman’s, sharp and commanding. “Turn and leave.”

Jade spun, searching wildly. Nothing. Only the buzzing lights overhead.

“Who are you?” Her voice was barely a whisper, strangled by terror. “Show yourself!”

And then she saw it.

A shadow at the far end of the corridor, moving with impossible speed. It surged toward her, growing clearer with each heartbeat until she could make out its shape.

Not a shadow. A girl.

She looked no older than fifteen. Her white gown was tattered, flowing unnaturally as if pulled by water currents. Her long black hair snaked down her waist, framing a face so pale it seemed drained of life. Black ink markings streaked her skin, curling like unholy symbols. And her eyes—her eyes glowed with cruel, burning hatred.

“Bloody hell,” Jade whispered, trying to stumble back. But her feet clung to the floor, locked in place.

“Please—don’t hurt me!” Tears welled as she fought against her invisible bonds.

“You don’t belong here,” the girl hissed again, voice thick with venom. “Turn and leave!”

“I—I don’t understand,” Jade stammered, shaking her head wildly. “This is Kingston College. I’m a student here!”

The girl’s lips curled into something between pity and malice. “You don’t know where you are, do you? You are far from home. Far from your world. Far from everything you think you know.” Her voice dripped with finality. “Turn. And. Leave.”

Jade’s heart hammered. Confusion warred with terror. “Please… if you know where my boyfriend is, just tell—”

The girl’s laugh cut her off. A shrill, mischievous giggle that echoed like broken glass.

“He’s gone,” she smirked. “If you stay, you’ll share his fate.”

“What do you mean?!” Jade’s voice shook with desperation.

The girl ignored her question. Instead, she turned, her gown flowing unnaturally as she glided away. Just before vanishing into shadow, she glanced back over her shoulder.

“You don’t belong here, witch.”

The last word struck like a blade. Witch.

Jade’s mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Her throat burned, her lungs fought, but her voice had been stolen. Panic surged through her veins as she clutched at her neck, trying to scream.

Nothing.

Her worst nightmare had taken root in reality.

Jade’s chest heaved as the mysterious teenager dissolved into a black puff of smoke. The air smelled of ash and decay, clinging to her throat as she coughed. Tremors raced through her body; fear had sunk its claws deep.

Then—

Whoosh.

The sound tore the silence apart. She spun, her stomach plunging. The teenager had reappeared only a few paces behind, her lips curled into a devilish smile. The glow in her eyes brightened as she lunged forward at a speed beyond reason, her white gown billowing like shredded wings.

“Stay away from me!” Jade shrieked, clutching her chest as her heart threatened to leap free.

The girl’s mouth opened wide—unnaturally wide.

The scream that followed was not human. It tore through the hallway like a blade, a sonic wail so violent it bent the air itself. A wave of force exploded outward, slamming into Jade with the strength of a storm.

She flew backward. The world blurred—wall, ceiling, shadow—and then a hard impact cracked her bones into silence.

“Jade! Wake up!”

A voice, soft yet sharp, pierced her mind.

She gasped awake, her body trembling. The brightness of the dorm swam into focus. She lay sprawled on the floor beside her bed, stripped bare, skin clammy against the cold tiles. Her roommate, Lucy, crouched beside her with wide, wary eyes.

“Are you alright?” Lucy asked, curiosity laced with suspicion.

Jade groaned, rubbing her bleary eyes. “What happened?” she murmured, her voice so small it barely escaped her lips.

Lucy crossed her arms, her tone cutting. “I should be asking you. You’re the one lying naked on the floor.”

Heat shot through Jade’s face. She blinked down at her body—completely exposed.

“Oh my God!” she cried, scrambling to cover herself. She folded her arms across her breasts, crossing her legs tightly to conceal the shame between her thighs. Her voice broke as she whispered, “Did anyone… besides you… see?”

Lucy sighed, dismissing her panic with a flick of her hand. “No. Don’t worry. Male students aren’t even allowed in the girls’ dorm.”

The reassurance only made Jade’s heart twist tighter. Luke. The memory of his warmth, his presence, came rushing back. She darted her eyes around the room, searching desperately for his clothes, his shoes—anything. Nothing remained.

“What are you looking for?” Lucy asked, her brow furrowed. Her roommate’s restless eyes betrayed the truth: Jade was searching for someone.

Panic surged. If I say Luke was here, I could get expelled. She forced a smile, shoving guilt deep down. “Nothing. Just… curious.” She turned her face away. “When did you get back?”

“Not long ago.” Lucy’s voice was clipped, suspicious. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Of course.” Jade’s lips stretched into another thin smile.

Lucy wasn’t convinced, but she let it slide. “Then dress up,” she said flatly, rising to her feet.

She unzipped her bag on the bed, the sharp rasp of the zipper cutting through the room like a blade. Jade flinched, her nerves raw. Every sound seemed magnified, every shadow threatening.

It was just a nightmare, she told herself. Nothing more.

But her heart refused the lie. The scars, the scream, the shadow girl’s eyes—they were too real. And Luke. He was here. He touched her. He vanished.

Her fingers shook as she pulled on her clothes. When she finally slid her phone from the desk, her pulse surged with hope. She dialed Luke’s number and pressed the phone to her ear.

One ring.

Two.

Then a voice.

But not his.

“The person you’re trying to reach is no longer in the world. You can’t see him anymore.”

Her body went cold.

She yanked the phone away, her breath ragged. That couldn’t be right. She redialed, pressed the phone tighter to her ear.

Again, the same chilling message:

“You can’t see him anymore.”

The words cracked something inside her. She slid down to the floor, sobbing, tears splashing against her trembling hands.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy rushed forward, alarm softening her sharpness.

Jade couldn’t form the words. She simply shoved the phone into Lucy’s hand and gestured for her to listen.

Lucy held the phone up, waiting. It rang—then clicked into voicemail.

“Hey, this is Luke. Leave a message after the beep.”

Silence.

Lucy lowered the phone, her face tightening into irritation. She hissed sharply. “So you can’t reach your boyfriend. That’s no reason to fall apart like this!”

Jade blinked through tears, stunned. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re overreacting. It’s the first day back on campus—don’t start drama.” She shoved the phone back into Jade’s palm and turned her back to unpack.

Jade clutched the phone, her body trembling harder. She lifted it again, pressed it to her ear, needing to know she wasn’t imagining it.

The haunting voice returned:

“You can’t see him anymore.”

Her breath caught. Terror clawed at her throat. She bolted to her feet, racing toward the door. Her hand barely grazed the knob when—

BANG.

A heavy knock rattled the door.

“This is the police. Open up!”

Her heart lurched. She froze, glancing at Lucy. Fear painted both their faces.

Jade’s trembling fingers turned the knob. The door opened with a groan, revealing two women in uniform. One wore the badge of an officer; the other held hers higher, flashing it with authority.

“Detective Ann Cole,” the woman said, her voice steady. She tucked her badge away and pulled a flip notepad from her pocket. Her gaze locked on Jade. “We’re here for Jade Billy. Are you her?”

Lucy whispered under her breath, “This can’t be good.”

Jade’s throat constricted. “I—I’m Jade,” she stammered. “Am I… under arrest?”

“That depends,” Ann said coolly. She checked her notes, then looked up. “For now, we just have questions. About the death of Luke Anderson.”

The words stabbed through Jade like a knife.

She staggered back, choking on her sobs. “What? No—no, this can’t be true!” Her voice fractured into a howl as tears poured freely.

Lucy froze in shock, finally connecting the dots. Jade’s breakdown. The call. The voicemail. It all made sense now.

“Ms. Billy,” Ann said firmly, “will you come with us to the station?”

“You think I had something to do with his death?” Jade whispered, trembling.

Ann’s eyes narrowed. “Did you?”

The detective’s tone was sharp, already laced with suspicion. The Dean of Students had told her Jade was the last person seen with Luke. His body found cold in his dorm. And when there’s no clear trail, suspicion always falls hardest on the closest witness.

The first suspect—was Jade.

The Police Precinct

The interrogation room door slammed open so hard the thin glass in the observation window rattled. The sudden sound cut the stale air, slicing into the hush that had settled over Detective Ann’s desk. She looked up from her pad to see who had burst in.

A man filled the doorway — impossibly groomed, a blue Italian suit sculpted to his frame, hair the color of pale wheat falling just past his collar. He moved like someone accustomed to being obeyed. When his eyes fixed on Jade, his face folded into a storm.

“Say no word!” he barked, pointing a long-fingered hand at her.

The room smelled like him before she could see him fully: a clean, expensive cologne that carried lemon and cedar, a scent that seemed to smooth the edges of the precinct’s institutional odor. Detective Ann felt it at the back of her throat, like a promise she didn’t want to accept.

“You brought in my client under false pretenses to question her and then booked her under arrest!” the man snapped, his voice sharp with outrage. “Drop the charges now, or I will sue the department.”

Detective Ann folded her arms, keeping her face a neutral mask, but the man’s presence forced the room into a different temperature. He introduced himself without waiting for permission.

“Barrister Kelvin Billy,” he said, the title rolling off his tongue like a flag. “You will release Ms. Billy at once.”

Ann’s jaw tightened. The Dean had called, she’d been told. The body had been discovered in another dorm; witnesses placed Jade with Luke the night before. Procedure compelled questions. But she’d also been briefed on the Billys. Wealth, influence — and a lawyer who did not bluff.

“Ms. Billy is not under arrest for murder,” Ann said slowly, keeping the official cadence. “She’s a person of interest — to be interviewed regarding Luke Anderson’s death. We’re just asking routine—”

“Routine?” Kelvin laughed, a brittle sound. “You haul my client in, humiliate her in a holding cell, and call it routine? Let me make something very clear: charge her if you must, but I will sue you, Detective Ann Cole. I will pursue every legal remedy until your precinct is ruined.”

Ann watched the man speak. He radiated assurance, an aura backed by bank accounts and a family name. Even the officers in the hall peered in, curiosity and caution warring across their faces.

Lucy’s number, on Jade’s emergency contact thread, had lit the family’s phone screens already. Even from halfway across the country, Jade’s parents moved like a tide; they could not come, but they could send leverage — and lawyering in force.

Detective Ann rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Ms. Billy,” she said to Jade, softer now, “you’re free to go.”

Kelvin didn’t let her go. He rounded the table in three long strides and planted himself between Jade and the exit, voice low and thudding.

“That’s not good enough,” he hissed. “This case is dead on arrival. Drop everything or I’ll make you regret it.” He leaned closer to Ann, and for a moment the cold edge of a threat showed. “You and your generation will pay for this.”

A beat of silence. Even the ticking wall clock seemed to pause.

Ann released the tension in her shoulders. “Crystal clear,” she said at last, and she let the detained file slide to the side.

Kingston College

A black limousine glided up to the iron gates of Hillary Dormitory with all the quiet arrogance of something that knew it belonged. Students glanced up from their phones, curiosity snagging at them, but the vehicle swallowed its presence like a shadow.

As Jade stepped from the limo, the leather of her skirt whispering against her thighs, Kelvin’s hand stayed on her elbow, a possessive weight. He hissed, “Speak to no one. Say nothing.”

She forced a smile that did not meet her eyes. Her chest still ached from the cold snap of grief. Luke — missing, then dead — and her name tangled into the same headline in the space of a night. She felt unreal, stitched to the world with thread too thin to hold her.

The sun was a flat disc behind clouds, and the campus smelled of rain and cut grass. Students passed in groups, heads bent like little islands. As she walked, her phone buzzed in a frantic rhythm in her hand. She glanced down, a small, fragile hope flaring in her chest.

“Mummy?” she whispered into the receiver when she answered. Her mother’s voice erupted down the line, sharp and immediate.

“Is this the way you speak to your mother?” Mrs. Billy scolded, but there was warmth buried under the scold. “We are worried.”

“Sorry, Mum,” Jade said, pressing the phone tighter to her ear. “My heart is… it’s heavy.”

“We can fly you home,” Mrs. Billy offered. “Your father and I—”

“No,” Jade cut in, voice steady with resolve. “I need to find out what happened to Luke. Classes start tomorrow. I can’t just—”

“Be careful,” her father said when he took the line. His voice had the same tempered steel she’d heard in Kelvin’s words. “Don’t do anything reckless. I’ve spoken with the Dean. We’ve arranged for a private investigator to look into this.”

A private investigator. The words sounded like a tether thrown to someone drowning. Hope thrummed in her chest. “When?”

“Sometime next week,” her father replied. “We’ll keep you safe. Call us if the police bother you.”

Jade promised she would. She ended the call and slid the phone into her bag. The campus seemed too quiet as she mounted the concrete steps to Dorm 25. Her footsteps met cold stone and echoed, a hollow percussion that amplified the emptiness.

Hillary Dormitory, usually a hive of gossip and laughter, felt forsaken. Doors that should have been open were shut; the usual clump of students at the foot of the stairs was gone as if the building had exhaled and held its breath. The hall lights hummed but the sound had no warmth. It was as if the campus had been scraped clean of life.

She paused, scanning for movement. “Where did everybody go?” she murmured, answering herself with the old tape of last night — the whisper, the vanish, the scar on her thigh. Every step she took felt like going deeper into cotton; her legs were heavy, each one harder to lift.

Halfway up the stairs, a figure slid into her vision. At first she thought it an apparition from last night: an old woman floating rather than walking, her hair a curtain of white that hid the face, a long gown trailing like fog. The woman’s fingers were papery, hooked like dried vines.

Jade’s breath caught. The weight of the air changed, thicker, colder. Her mouth dried. She tried to take another step and her feet clung to the concrete as if welded. Panic rose like bile.