Most tales begin with charm and grace, a dance between two souls destined for connection. My story started with a metal bat crashing mercilessly into my ribs.
The world spun wildly as I fell, my back hitting the damp pavement with a sickening thud. Pain radiated sharply up my spine; the dull ache in my head fused with the sting of my bitten tongue. Above, the streetlamp flickered and shattered into a cascade of fractured light, stars raining down as my vision blurred.
A heavy weight pressed down on my chest, stealing my breath. I blinked against the darkness to see the man looming over me. Every certainty I'd held about him dissolved in an instant. His mud-caked boot smeared across my blouse, and crimson dripped from the battered bat slung casually over his shoulder.
A chilling question surfaced: was that my blood? He stepped back, unhurried, heading toward the rear of his car. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself onto my elbows, eyes darting to my legs. They were swollen, bruised already, but intact—no cuts breaking the skin.
The blood wasn’t mine.
And then I saw it.
A hand—lifeless, stained deep red—hung grotesquely from the car trunk. The man shoved it back inside without a word, turning to me with a cruel smile and a roll of duct tape in hand.
"I didn’t plan for this," he said softly. "You just got unlucky."
The cold air bit at my skin, the pain dulled into an eerie numbness. All that remained was the stark realization: tonight, I might not survive.
"I’m sorry," I whispered, voice barely audible.
And I meant every word.
***
FIVE DAYS EARLIER
***
Monday morning arrived with the promise of beginnings. I slipped onto campus just minutes before orientation was set to start. The academic quad was awash in autumn’s glow—fiery red and gold leaves dancing lightly on the crisp breeze, softening the edges of the sprawling green lawn.
A small cluster of students milled about, the early risers amongst us, but the official start lingered a while longer, the usual delay stretching into ten minutes before announcements began. More first-years trickled in, the crowd growing until most were present for the call to attention.
"Did I make it?" Bianca panted, jogging up to me, cheeks flushed and hair slightly tousled.
I smiled, passing her the orientation flyers that were distributed to everyone.
"Mostly just talks so far. They’re wrapping up the campus rules and regs," I replied.
"And the tour comes after?" she asked eagerly.
"Yep, right after."
Bianca slid her sunglasses down her nose and shot me a mischievous grin. I caught the teasing in her eyes before she nudged me playfully on the shoulder.
"Hey, don’t judge me," she laughed softly. "Not everyone can be the perfect little angel like Lucy Starling. There was a pre-orientation party last night, just saying."
Despite the telltale signs of a late night—the flip-flops, the oversized puffer jacket she never usually wore—Bianca looked effortlessly untouchable. Her makeup was flawless, every lash and contour in place, and her signature blonde-to-purple ombré hair pulled into a high ponytail without a single stray strand.
"Don’t forget to hydrate," I cautioned, half-teasing.
"Yes, Mom," she rolled her eyes but smiled.
The orientation leader cleared his throat, voice cutting through the low hum of conversation.
"With my part done, I’m pleased to hand things over to livelier hands. Please welcome your student body representatives!" His eyes crinkled warmly as six older students stepped onto the small platform.
A sudden shift rippled through the crowd, electricity in the air like leaves rustling on a gusty day.
"There he is," Bianca whispered, leaning close. "The reason half the girls here picked this school."
I squinted toward the platform. Among the six reps, three were male: one tall and composed, another wearing glasses, and the last with paint stains on his clothes.
"Which one?" I asked, curious.
"Isn’t it obvious?" Bianca smirked.
The orientation leader stepped forward to shake hands with the tall student before retiring. That student faced the crowd with a calm confidence.
"Welcome, first years," he began. His voice was steady, words carrying across the quad without needing to shout.
"Him," Bianca whispered again.
I took a moment to really look. Sandy brown hair framed a pair of warm, kind eyes. He was tall, with an athlete’s build, clean-cut but relaxed in his stance. His smile was rare and genuine, the kind that made strangers feel like close friends.
"My name is Jace Lloyd, and I’m your student body president," he introduced, voice sincere. "Alongside me are the other student representatives." Each companion raised a hand as he named them: Cindy, Heather, Anna, Henry, and Wikus. "If you ever need help or have questions, we’re here for you."
Applause broke out, the girls’ gazes particularly fixed on Jace.
"Though I’ll be leading your campus tour today," Jace said, his smile slipping into something more serious, "there’s something I need to address first."
The quad quieted instantly, all eyes locking on him.
"New Hale University takes pride in caring for its students’ well-being," he continued. "Many of you are pursuing bachelor’s degrees; some will continue into advanced medical studies, like myself."
I straightened instinctively. Attending this university on scholarship had been a challenge, but it was my best chance at a medical career.
"No matter the path you choose," Jace said, "we’re committed to supporting and protecting you. It’s my wish that years from now, you’ll look back on this time with fond memories, and that every student here remains safe."
At the mention of safety, a heavy silence settled over the crowd. Everyone knew the unspoken truth beneath the words. For nearly two years, these safety warnings had become part of the university’s fabric.
"Classes began a month ago," Jace said quietly. "But today marks the first day new students enter our doors. It’s no secret why. Over the past two years, more than forty people in this city have vanished without a trace. There’s no pattern—old, young, men, women. You may know some of them personally."
A cold breeze tugged at a strand of my dark hair, forcing me to tuck it behind my ear. When I glanced at Bianca, my heart sank. She stared ahead, expression unreadable, eyes unblinking.
It had been three months since Charlie Whyte had disappeared.
The silver dove pendant resting against my chest felt unnaturally heavy.
Jace gave a faint smile, fragile enough to fracture hearts.
"Though no New Hale University student has been harmed, vigilance is crucial. We urge all students to travel in groups of at least three and be indoors by ten o’clock at night."
"Tch," Bianca scoffed under her breath. "Charlie wasn’t one to stay out late. Whoever’s behind this doesn’t care about the time of day."
I reached out, gently rubbing her back in comfort, the shadow of fear stretching long across us both.
As the crowd began to shift, preparing to follow Jace on the tour, my thoughts lingered on the dark undercurrent pulsing beneath New Hale’s picturesque campus—whispers of disappearances, of shadows in corners. And somewhere out there, a threat waiting to strike again.