I hate it when characters in my head start doing their own thing not the script, now I have start afresh all over again
The air in the art room was always thick with the smell of turpentine and clay, but today it felt suffocating. I was trying to lose myself in the sweep of charcoal on paper, the rough texture a familiar comfort under my fingers. I was sketching the curve of a jaw I refused to name, the slope of a shoulder I told myself was anonymous.
Isaac Rivers hadn't spoken to me in two days.
At first, I thought I'd done something wrong. Then Mila, her face unusually pale, had shown me the photo. The one with her face gouged out. She'd tried to play it off, her voice a brittle imitation of its usual bravado. "Guess I have a secret admirer with a violent photoshop habit."
We both knew it wasn't photoshop.
I flipped to a fresh page in my sketchbook, the white surface a glaring accusation. My hands were shaking. I couldn't draw. I could only see that scratched-out photo, and the memory of Harper's splintered locker, and the note in my bag.
Don't let them touch you.
"Avery."
The voice was low, quiet, but it cut through the art room's murmur like a scalpel. I flinched, charcoal snapping between my fingers.
Leo Maddox was standing at the end of my table.
He'd never spoken to me before. He was a rumor, a monument, a face from a distance. Up close, he was… more. His "midnight glass" eyes weren't just dark they were depthless, absorbing the light around them. He smelled like rain and clean laundry.
He was holding a single, high-quality art-grade eraser.
"You dropped this," he said. His gaze was fixed on me, unwavering. It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. He knew it was mine.
My throat closed. How? When? I managed a jerky nod, my hand trembling as I reached for it. Our fingers brushed. His were warm. A jolt, sharp and electric, shot up my arm.
"Thanks," I whispered, the word barely audible.
He didn't move. He just stood there, looking down at me, at my sketchbook. I instinctively slapped a hand over the open page, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"You're very talented," he said. His voice was still quiet, meant only for me. "It's a shame you hide it."
He knew?. He'd seen my drawings. He'd been close enough to see.
Before I could form a coherent thought, he turned and walked away. The room, which had fallen into a stunned hush, slowly buzzed back to life. I stared at the eraser in my hand. It was pristine, expensive. I never used this brand. I hadn't dropped it.
It was a gift.
My phone vibrated in my hoodie pocket. A new message from an unknown number. The same one that had texted Mila.
The message contained a single image. It was a photo of me, taken from across the art room, just moments ago. My head was down, my hair falling over my face, the broken piece of charcoal in my hand. The composition was perfect, almost artistic. I looked vulnerable. Beautiful.
Beneath the photo was a new message.
You look perfect when you're creating. But you're always perfect. - L
L,?
The world tilted. The noise of the classroom faded into a dull roar. I looked up, my eyes darting to the doorway. He was gone. But he was everywhere. In the air I breathed, in the fear coiling in my stomach, in the treacherous, dizzying thrill that shot through my veins.
He was watching. He had always been watching.
And now, he was no longer in the shadows.
He was here.
And a terrifying, silent part of me wondered if this was a nightmare I needed to escape, or a fairytale I'd secretly always wanted.
The dreams have started again.
Dark hallway. Footsteps behind me. A hand grabbing my shoulder, yanking me back. I never see the face.
I always wake up right before I scream.
It's just stress. That's what I tell myself when I rinse my face in the dorm bathroom mirror.
Midterms, Sleep deprivation, The occasional guy or girl leaving weird notes in my locker, Typical stuff, right?
But lately... it feels like someone's always watching.
Even when I'm alone.
Even when I double-check the windows are closed.
Mila's acting weird, too.
She didn't sit next to me in bio class. Didn't text back. When I finally cornered her by the vending machine, she smiled like everything was fine but I caught her hand shaking when she handed me my drink.
She said nothing was wrong.
She's lying.
After class, I take the long way back to my dorm.
I hate that I've memorized Leo Maddox's schedule. How he always leaves gym sweaty and silent. How people part around him like he's royalty dipped in blood. He's the kind of guy you can't help but notice.
But he's never noticed me.
Right?
I'm almost to the dorm stairwell when I hear it.
Footsteps, heavy and Deliberate.
I turn around.
Nobody there.
Still... I swear I heard breathing.
I rush the rest of the way and slam the door shut behind me, chest heaving like I just outran something.
On my bed sits an envelope.
No stamp on it no name.
Inside:
A photo of me sleeping.
And a single word typed beneath it:MINE.
It was just a compliment.
"Your eyes are nice," he said.
Simple and Harmless.
Eli Winters. The kind of guy who's never serious about anything, Always teasing. Always smiling. I laughed it off, told him to stop flirting.
He winked.
That was yesterday.
Today? He's gone.
Didn't show up to class. His dorm bed untouched. Clothes still there, phone dead. People are whispering. I hear Mila mutter something about "last seen talking to Avery,"but I pretend I didn't know
My stomach twists.
That makes it the third time.
Third person to flirt, compliment, or act even a little interested in me and then vanish like smoke.
I try to tell myself I'm being paranoid, but it's getting harder to breathe.
I keep thinking about the photo in that envelope.
The word mine.
How did someone even get that picture? I always sleep with my door locked. There's no way
Unless they're already inside.
No. Stop it.
I try to calm down. I call Mila.
"Tell me I'm not crazy," I say the second she picks up.
She goes quiet for a beat too long.
"...I think someone's watching you,"she says. Her voice is small, not like her usual loud, dramatic tone. "And I think they're dangerous."
I sit on the edge of my bed, every hair on my body standing up.
"Why me?" I whisper.
She doesn't answer, but someone else does.
I get a text from an unknown number again.
"He shouldn't have looked at you."
Sent: 1:03 AM
Followed by a photo of Eli.
Tied up, eyes open. And lifeless.
Leo Maddox pov:
People think I don't notice him.
Avery Knox,
They think I'm too focused on sports. On popularity. On parties. On girls.
They're wrong, i notice everything.
The way he bites his lip when he's nervous. The way he always writes the date at the top of his notebook even when the teacher doesn't ask for it. The way he twirls his pencil when he's bored.
He doesn't even realize how beautiful he is when he's not trying.
That's what makes him mine.
They keep getting too close.
Eli. Before him, Sofia. Before her, Cal.
They all made the same mistake.
They thought they had the right to look at him.
To touch what's mine.
I sit in class, watching him two rows ahead.
He's tense, Shoulders stiff. Lips pale.
Scared, he should be.
But not of me, I'd never hurt him.
Not unless he makes me.
Coach is talking, but I don't hear him.
I'm thinking about the photo I left him last night.
The one where he's sleeping.
He looked so peaceful, curled up like a cat. Chest rising and falling. I could watch him for hours.
I do, Every night.
When the bell rings, I stand up last. Wait until he leaves.
Then I follow.
Avery Knox pov:
I think I'm being followed.
The words leave my mouth before I even realize I've said them. I'm sitting on Mila's bed, hands cold, body wrapped in her fuzzy blanket like that'll protect me from the thing I can't see but feel breathing down my neck.
Mila doesn't laugh, Doesn't joke, Doesn't even blink.
She just says: "I know."
She pulls out her laptop. Photos, forums, digital maps.
A list of every student who's disappeared over the past three months.
There's a pattern.
Every single one of them?
Talked to me, Liked me, Complimented me, Just once.
And then they vanished.
"Maybe it's a jealous ex?" Mila suggests, but even she doesn't believe it.
My stomach twists. "I've never even had a real relationship."
We sit in silence. Her room feels like a cage.
She leans in. I'm going to find out who's doing this, Ave. I swear.
I nod.
But something in me whispers, Don't let her.
Later that night, I'm walking back to my dorm alone.
Headphones in, hoodie up, every shadow looking like a threat.
I step into the hallway, And freeze.
My door is cracked open, i always lock it.
Always.
I push it gently, Inside, everything looks untouched.
Except-
My closet door,Closed.
It was open this morning.
My skin crawls. I back away slowly. Close the door without checking it.
I couldn't sleep that night.
I just stare at the closet and wonder...
If someone's staring back.
Mila Voss pov:
I've seen horror movies.
This? Feels worse.
Because it's real. Because it's Avery.
Because someone out there is playing a game and no one else sees it.
Except me.
And I'm not about to let my best friend end up on a missing poster.
I log into the campus security files.
Technically, I'm not supposed to have access but a few late-night hookups with a bored IT guy last semester had perks.
I scan dorm entry logs, Look for names. Patterns. Dates.
It takes hours.
But then I find it.
Leo Maddox, The golden boy. Perfect grades. Captain of the soccer team. The same guy who everyone thinks doesn't know Avery exists.
Funny how he's always in the building when someone goes missing.
Too funny.
I grab my phone. Start taking screenshots.
That's when it happens, The screen flickers.
Goes black.
Then lights up again.
New message from a Unknown Number.
"Dig again and you'll be next."
Sent: 3:01 AM
My heart stops, I spin in my chair.
Nothing, I'm alone.Right?
Then
Tap tap tap.
My window, I live on the third floor.
I don't check it,I just shut the laptop and start praying.