For a moment, none of them moved.
The phone's cold bluish glow washed over their faces as Kelechi's image filled the screen—half-hidden in darkness, his smile stretched just enough to make Amara's skin crawl.
Her lungs refused to work.
It felt like her entire body forgot how to exist.
Onyedika tightened his grip on her arm, instinctively pulling her behind him. His jaw clenched so hard that a vein pulsed in the corner of his temple.
Chiamaka stood frozen at the side, hands trembling uncontrollably.
Kelechi tilted his head slowly on the screen, looking directly at Amara even though she wasn't in full view.
"Come closer," he whispered.
"I want to see your face."
Onyedika moved instantly, thumb slamming the END CALL button.
Nothing happened.
The call didn't end.
In fact, the volume increased.
Kelechi chuckled softly.
"You think you can block me?"
The corridor bulb flickered again—once, twice—as if reacting to the tension pressing against the air.
Onyedika raised the phone dangerously close to the wall, ready to smash it.
Kelechi's voice sharpened.
"Break it and I'll replace it with something worse."
That paused him.
Amara's entire body trembled, and she hated that he still had this effect on her—this power to twist her nerves until she couldn't breathe.
Kelechi continued, his tone disturbingly calm:
"You should never have left that school, Amara. You made things… unnecessarily difficult."
Onyedika's patience snapped.
"What do you want from her?" he shouted. "Why can't you leave her alone?"
Kelechi's eyes shifted lazily.
"Ah. The boy who thinks he matters."
Amara felt Onyedika tense beside her.
"You're loud," Kelechi said, voice dripping with disdain. "But loud doesn't mean strong."
Chiamaka stepped closer, terrified.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you stalking her?"
Kelechi didn't even spare her a glance.
"Amara knows."
Amara felt a stone drop inside her stomach.
She didn't know.
Or—no—she knew pieces.
Fragments.
But not the whole thing.
She shook her head slightly, quietly.
His smile widened.
"I warned you something would happen tonight, didn't I?"
Tonight.
Amara's breath caught.
Onyedika sensed it instantly.
"What do you mean by tonight?" he demanded.
Kelechi leaned closer to his camera.
"You're all in the wrong corridor."
The screen glitched.
Static lines cut across his face.
Then—
darkness.
The screen turned pitch black.
The call was still ongoing.
Amara's heartbeat thundered against her ribs.
Onyedika held the phone tightly.
"What did he mean—"
A sound cut him off.
A loud, metallic bang.
From upstairs.
Right above Block C.
Chiamaka jerked in fear.
"W-what was that?!"
Another bang.
Closer.
Then a dragging sound… slow… deliberate… like someone was pulling something heavy across the floor.
Onyedika immediately pulled Amara and Chiamaka backward.
"Move. Now."
Amara didn't argue.
Her legs felt weak, but adrenaline pushed her forward.
The dragging grew louder.
Then stopped.
Right above their heads.
Amara's breath stopped completely.
Silence filled the hallway.
Onyedika looked up at the ceiling.
"Don't run," he whispered. "Running makes noise."
They stepped backward quietly, inching toward the turning that led to the staircase.
The phone in Onyedika's hand vibrated violently.
The screen lit up again.
Still on video call.
Still connected.
Kelechi's voice came, low and soft:
"Don't bother going downstairs."
Onyedika froze mid-step.
Kelechi chuckled quietly.
"I've already been there."
Amara's chest tightened painfully.
No. No. No—
The corridor light flickered once more.
Then—
A shadow moved.
Not upstairs.
Not down the hall.
Behind them.
Amara's blood ran cold.
Chiamaka gasped, but Onyedika covered her mouth quickly.
The shadow elongated slowly on the wall, stretching under the flickering light.
Someone was standing at the far end of the corridor.
Still.
Silent.
Watching.
The phone vibrated again.
Kelechi's whisper came:
"Turn around, Amara."
Her legs refused.
Her pulse screamed.
The shadow didn't move—but it felt like it was waiting for them to.
Onyedika positioned himself in front of the girls.
"Stay behind me," he whispered. "No matter what."
But then—
The shadow took one step forward.
A long, slow step.
Amara clutched the back of Onyedika's shirt involuntarily, fingers shaking.
The shadow took another step.
The corridor was too dim to see the face.
Just the silhouette…
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Head slightly tilted—
That same unnatural tilt she remembered from before.
Her vision blurred.
Her breath hitched.
"No…" she whispered.
And then—
A voice that wasn't Kelechi's echoed softly from the corridor end:
"Amara… you shouldn't have come out of your room."
Chiamaka's grip tightened on Amara.
Onyedika's hand curled into a fist.
Amara's body turned to ice.
Because she recognized that voice.
It wasn't Kelechi.
It was someone she hoped she'd never hear here.
Someone she thought she left behind forever.
The shadow stepped into the dim light—
revealing a face she knew.
A face she feared.
A face she never expected to see again at this school.
And then—
He smiled.
Not kindly.
Not warmly.
But like someone who had just found what they came for.
"Miss me?" he whispered.
Amara stumbled backward, hitting the wall.
Her throat closed.
This wasn't just Kelechi anymore.
This was worse.
Much worse.
And then the lights went out completely.