Screams rippled from the far end of the hallway as students scattered, some rushing into the nearest classrooms, others collapsing in fear.
The air thickened—hot, sharp, suffocating—like the building itself sensed danger.
Onyedika tightened his arms around Amara.
"Amara," he said, voice shaking but firm, "look at me. He's not here anymore."
But the terror in her eyes didn't fade.
"He stabbed someone," she whispered. "He's doing it again… he's doing it again…"
Onyedika swallowed, trying not to let panic show.
"Again?"
He needed to ask.
He needed to know.
But this was not the moment.
Another security guard sprinted in, breathless.
"Everyone inside a room now! Lock the doors! Campus security is sweeping the compound!"
The power flickered again, lights blinking like dying stars.
A loud metallic clang echoed from a distant corridor.
Amara flinched violently.
Onyedika quickly pulled her into the nearest empty classroom; the door swung shut behind them. A few other terrified students were inside, whispering prayers, pacing, panicking.
The teacher in the room locked the door.
"Phones on silent," she ordered. "Nobody go near the windows."
Amara sank into a chair, trembling hard. Onyedika knelt in front of her, hands on her knees.
"Talk to me," he whispered softly. "Please, Amara."
Her breath felt broken.
"He followed me," she whispered. "I knew he would. I knew it. I knew it."
"Who is he to you?" Onyedika asked carefully. "What did he—"
A sudden pounding on the hallway door made everyone in the classroom jump.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
"Open the door!" someone screamed from outside. "Please! Let me in! He's coming back!"
The teacher hesitated, moving toward the door.
Onyedika's voice cut through sharply. "Don't open it!"
But the teacher, panicking, turned the lock.
A terrified girl stumbled inside, crying uncontrollably. "He was there—near the lab—he was walking like—like nothing happened—"
Amara buried her face in her palms.
Onyedika clenched his jaw.
"Amara," he whispered again, "tell me who he is to you."
She looked up, tears streaking down her cheeks.
"Kelechi… he's not just someone I knew."
Her voice cracked.
"He ruined my life."
Onyedika froze.
"How?"
Amara swallowed painfully.
"He used to come to my old school. He said he liked me, then he started… following me. Everywhere. After classes. On my way home. At church. At the market. Everywhere."
Onyedika's fists balled so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
"I reported him," she continued shakily. "Nothing happened. They said I was exaggerating. Said he was harmless."
She shook her head violently.
"But I knew he wasn't. One night… he cornered me behind the hostel… and he—"
Her breath seized.
Onyedika instinctively held her shoulders. "You don't have to say it, Amara."
But she did. She needed to.
"He grabbed me and covered my mouth. He said if I screamed, he'd make sure no one ever found me. I fought—God, I fought so hard—but he—"
Her voice broke completely.
"He hurt me, Onyedika. And no one believed me."
Onyedika's entire body stiffened with cold fury.
"That's why you transferred," he whispered.
She nodded, trembling.
"I thought he didn't know where I went. I thought I escaped."
But Onyedika shook his head.
"He tracked you."
Amara squeezed her eyes shut in despair.
Another announcement boomed through the hallway speakers:
"All students remain in place. Campus is in lockdown. Do not open any doors. Suspect is still on school grounds."
The teacher gasped as she turned off the classroom lights.
A boy near the window whispered, "I think I saw someone outside."
Everyone froze.
Silence.
Breathing.
The hum of fear.
Onyedika stood slowly, peeking through the blinds.
Amara grabbed his hand in panic. "Don't—don't look—please don't—"
But he did.
And what he saw made his blood run cold.
A silhouette stood near the walkway.
Tall.
Still.
Watching the building like a predator.
The streetlights flickered above him—enough to outline the shape of a hoodie… and something glinting in his hand.
"Amara…" Onyedika whispered, "he's outside."
Amara's world crashed around her.
"No," she choked. "No, no, no—"
The figure lifted his head—slowly—like he could feel her fear through the walls.
Then—
He stepped forward.
The classroom collectively gasped.
Onyedika dragged Amara away from the window.
"He's looking for you," he whispered urgently.
Amara's heart thundered painfully in her chest.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
One message.
Unknown number.
Her blood froze before she even opened it.
But when she did…
Her hands shook so violently she almost dropped the phone.
KELECHI:
You can hide behind him, Amara.
But you know I always find you.
A second message came instantly.
KELECHI:
Check the desk by the window.
Amara's breath caught.
Slowly, as if the world might explode… Onyedika walked toward the desk closest to the window.
He lifted the wooden lid—
And a small folded note dropped to the floor.
Onyedika picked it up.
Unfolded it.
Read it.
His face drained of color.
"Amara," he whispered shakily, "it has your name on it."
She covered her mouth.
"What… what does it say?"
Onyedika looked at her—eyes wide, terrified, furious—and read the message aloud:
"Run if you want.
Scream if you like.
But before dawn…
one of you will stop breathing."
The room fell into horrified silence.
Amara's knees buckled.
Onyedika caught her, pulling her close, whispering fiercely, "I'm not letting anything happen to you. Do you hear me? Nothing."
But outside—
Footsteps began approaching the classroom door.
Slow.
Steady.
Deliberate.
And then…
A soft knock echoed through the silence.
Three times.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
Everyone froze.
Another knock.
Tok…
Tok…
Tok.
Then a voice—too calm, too familiar—through the door.
"Amara.
I know you're in there."