Alexander

I paced relentlessly in the courtyard, mind ablaze with today's incident. The greatest sign of weakness is the absence of knowledge and in my situation, cluelessness. I was seventeen when three girls vanished, and amidst pointless distractions of a prophecy, no one took action. Since then, my obsession has only deepened, I have never stopped doing my research. I'm on the brink, so close that I've wandered into the darkness myself.

When fixation takes hold, the mind becomes an unyielding force. For me, it's a visceral obsession, seeing red, relentless pursuit, all or nothing. There's no middle ground; it's within my grasp or it simply doesn't exist.

It has happened again, and while I'm close, I'm not there yet. This constant struggle is maddening, yet it fuels me, pushing me to step up my game. Their kind finds comfort in harming the innocent, while I find satisfaction in taking down those who undermine my competence. Currently, it's someone causing deaths in the name of prophecy, treating it as a twisted game, much like my own.

Others might find this sick, but I understand it. Instilling fear in others is thrilling, but only when I'm in control. In this case, I'm not, so it has to end.

Lost in thought, a strong, feminine scent enveloped me, and I saw her again. At first, anger surged within me, I'm not accustomed to being defied. But as swiftly as it came, my anger ebbed away, replaced by something unfamiliar and tantalizing. Her eyes widened at the sight of me, and her breath quickened.

I pride myself on reading people, deciphering their reactions in any situation. Yet, with her, it was different. Both times we had crossed paths, her emotions were a whirlwind, constantly shifting.

"Absolutely not. It's just... do you believe in rules, sir?" she asked, her gaze piercing mine. Her breathing had steadied, and her cheeks were flushed with a delicate blush that tempted my touch. But I refrained. There's a delicate balance between right and wrong, a line I've never hesitated to cross. I still don't. Right and wrong don't matter to me, only control does. Nothing has ever tested my control, and neither will she.

I saw a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes when I asked her to return to the dorm. I could sense the turmoil within her, a relentless inner battle. We all have our own stories, and I couldn't help but wonder about hers.

I glanced at my phone. It was half past midnight. With a deep sigh, I made my way to my office, where my father stood waiting. "Restless night?" I asked, picking up the glass of water from the table.

"The prophecy... it's unfolding again," he said, his muscles tense and his jaw clenched.

"Dad, it's just the work of a deranged individual, not some ancient curse," I replied, my frustration evident. For years, I've tried to present him with logical explanations, but his mind is entrenched in these superstitions. It's one of the reasons I'm trapped here, I can't move on until the mystery is solved.

"This has been happening for years, What makes you so sure it's not the prophecy?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"There are plenty of rational explanations, if you'd only open your mind and look beyond these archaic myths," I snapped, unable to hide my irritation.

"Another student has died, and our reputation is once again under siege. The media, authorities, and parents are all demanding answers," he said, sinking into the sofa with a weary sigh.

"The institution's reputation means nothing to me. My sole focus is finding the murderer and ending this," I said coldly.

"Remember, you need my support as much as I need yours," he warned, his gaze steely.

Anger flared within me, and I squeezed the glass in my hand until it shattered, shards piercing my skin.

"Channel that anger wisely. My downfall is yours as well," he said before leaving the room.

I have repeatedly made it clear to him that this institution holds no value for me. My ambitions and goals lie far beyond the confines of this academy. Yet, in his twisted mind, he believes he's acting in his best interest. What he fails to realize is that I am always one step ahead. If he intends to use me, I will turn the tables and use him in his own game. He will soon discover just how mistaken he is.

****

Kristen

The next day, we were summoned to a collective conference. The room was filled with local cops, the dean, Professor Alexander, and several other teachers.

"The investigation into the tragic murder is underway by our diligent police and detectives," the dean began, his voice steady yet somber. "While it's deeply saddening, we must not succumb to fear. Your safety remains our top priority, and we have increased security across the campus."

Students exchanged hushed whispers, the air thick with tension.

"I urge you all," the dean continued, "to avoid the ocean and forest areas, especially after dark. Anyone caught in these restricted zones will face strict disciplinary actions."

The cops and professors each took their turn, trying to reassure us and ease our anxieties. However , my attention was fixed on Professor Alexander. He stood apart from the rest, an unreadable expression on his face. The situation seemed to leave him unshaken. His eyes, as always, betrayed no emotion, as if nothing in the world could rattle him.

I couldn't deny my growing curiosity about him. Normally, I rarely find myself intrigued by others, but there was something about him that was different, something that stirred an unusual sense of interest within me.

"Please, everyone, close your eyes and join me in a prayer for Elisa's soul. May she find peace," Miss Emma's soft voice filled the room. Her words carried a solemn weight, leaving an uneasy hush in their wake.

I wondered if our prayers could really make a difference, if they could bring comfort to Elisa's restless spirit. She wasn't supposed to die like this, it felt so unfair, so senseless. The more I thought about it, the more my nerves frayed.

In the quiet moment, I felt someone's eyes on me. He looked at me with raised eyebrows, as if sensing my growing panic. Quickly, I closed my eyes, wanting to escape his watchful gaze.

After the conference, Ava, Emily, Jane, and I were called in for collective therapy sessions. We were the ones who had witnessed the incident, and they didn't want it to affect us negatively. But I wondered if therapy could really help. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her: the girl, her bloodied hands, the horror of it all. I knew the others felt the same; their restless expressions mirrored my own. Despite this, we decided not to talk about it anymore, trying to push the nightmare from our minds.

We were walking down the corridor when a girl purposefully shoulder-checked Ava. "I heard the next girls who are targets in the prophecy are the ones who witnessed the body," she said, her expression menacing.

Emily stepped forward, fists clenched, ready to strike, but Jane quickly grabbed her arm.

"Careful, karen. Bitches are a priority in most cases," Jane sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm and hatred.

The girl's expression hardened as she stepped closer. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Don't worry about us, Karen," I said my voice cool and steady. "Worry about yourself. A lot can happen while you're in dreamland."

Karen finally turned her head, taking notice of me. She paused, scanning me from head to toe. "And who might you be, man? And I'd love to find out," she said, a bitchy smirk plastered on her face.

"We'll see about that," I said, signaling my friends to walk away without wasting another minute on her.

Karen's eyes narrowed. "You think you're clever, don't you? Just wait. The prophecy doesn't lie."

Jane laughed. "Prophecies, Karen? Really? We're not living in some fantasy novel. But I guess delusions of grandeur help you cope."

Karen's face flushed with anger. "You just keep running your mouths. We'll see who's left standing."

I stepped forward, meeting her gaze. "We will. But until then, maybe you should watch where you're going. Wouldn't want you tripping over your own ego."

Karen glared at us one last time before turning on her heel and walking away. As she disappeared down the corridor, I could feel the tension slowly easing.

Ava squeezed my arm reassuringly. "Don't worry about her. She's all talk. Don't believe a word she says."

But as we walked away, her words echoed in my mind: "The next girls who are targets in the prophecy are the ones who witnessed the body." A chill ran down my spine. I couldn't shake the feeling that something dark was looming over us, something we couldn't yet understand. The prophecy might be just a rumor, but the fear it instilled was all too real.

I can't believe I've finished the sixth chapter. There were times when I doubted I could keep going, but it feels great to have reached this point.

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