I went straight to my room.
I don't remember deciding to do it. My legs just carried me there, moving faster than my thoughts, like my body already knew what my mind was still afraid to admit.
I locked the door behind me and pulled out my phone.
Mom.
No signal.
Dad.
Nothing.
I stepped closer to the window, lifting the phone higher like that might help.
No bars.
My chest tightened.
"Fuck," I whispered.
My hands were shaking now. I tried emergency numbers—911, anything I could remember. The calls didn't even ring. They died the moment I pressed the button, like this place itself was swallowing them.
Something really bad was happening.
I ran out of my room and slammed my fist against Rose's door.
"Rose!" I shouted. "Open up!"
She came out half a second later, startled, her hair still messy, fear already written on her face before I even spoke.
"We need to find a teacher," I said, grabbing her wrist. "Now. The principal—anyone."
"Hendry, what are you talking about?" she asked, confused, but then she looked at my face.
I must have looked terrible.
She didn't ask again. She nodded and ran with me.
I didn't wait.
I broke away from her and sprinted outside the guest house, straight toward the village. I needed space. I needed air. I needed proof that the world outside the estate still existed.
I didn't see the barrier.
I felt it.
My body slammed into something invisible and solid, like hitting a wall made of rubber and stone at the same time. The force sent me flying backward. My head struck the ground with a sharp crack.
Pain exploded behind my eyes.
I groaned, warm liquid running down my forehead. The sky above me spun as I tried to sit up. My ears rang. My legs felt weak.
"Dammit"
I staggered to my feet and stumbled back toward the gate
.
Slowly, I lifted my hand.
My palm pressed against nothing—and then something.
Hard. Smooth. Springy.
I moved sideways.
Same thing.
I ran to the other side of the estate.
The same invisible wall.
That was when it hit me.
We weren't isolated.
We were sealed in.
Before I could even process that thought, the ground shook.
A deep boom tore through the air.
I turned just in time to see flames erupt from the other guest house—the one where another class was staying. Fire climbed the walls unnaturally fast, black smoke boiling into the sky.
Then came the screams.
Students poured out of every building, frozen in horror. Teachers shouted orders.
Someone yelled for water. There was no fire station on the island—only buckets, hoses, desperation.
A boy stumbled out of the burning house.
He was on fire.
Someone screamed his name. Buckets of water were thrown over him, hands smothering the flames. He survived—but his skin was ruined, red and blistered, his cries thin and broken.
The smell hit next.
Burning wood.
Burning fabric.
Something else.
People were still inside.
Some students tried to help. Others prayed aloud, voices cracking. A few turned away and vomited, unable to handle the sound, the smell, the waiting.
I stood there.
Just stood there.
Watching people die.
I remember thinking—not screaming, not crying—just thinking:
This can't be real.
Eventually, the estate workers arrived with fire extinguishers. Too late. Always too late.
When the fire finally died down, the building stood black and hollow, like a corpse after something had eaten its insides.
Only five students were pulled out alive.
The rest never came out.
Mr. Ken appeared then, along with other teachers, ordering everyone to stay calm.
His voice was steady. Too steady.
"Please," he said. "Do not panic. We are handling the situation."
No one believed him.
It just made them panic more.
A girl stepped forward, shaking. "My sister," she said. "She was in that class. Is she okay?"
Mr. Ken smiled.
"Yes," he said gently. "She's alive. She just needs treatment."
The girl exhaled in relief. She thanked him and went back inside while the rest follow.
I watched his face as she left.
The smile didn't change.
Back in our hall, I pulled Rose into an empty room and told her everything.
The barrier.
The hand in the soil.
The explosion.
Her face drained of color.
"We have to tell the others," she whispered.
We gathered our classmates.
I explained everything.
When I finished, the room was silent.
Then Amily spoke.
"What about Mr. Koroma?"
No one answered.
Rose swallowed. "We… don't know."
That was when fear became real.
I clapped my hands to get their attention.
"We can't sit here," I said. "We need to find the other students. The teachers. We need a way out."
Amily wiped her tears and nodded.
The others followed.
We made a plan.
Some would go to the other classes.
Some would look for teachers.
And the three of us—me, Rose, and Amily—would find the edge of the barrier.
Because whatever this island was doing to us—
It wasn't done yet.