CHAPTER 4: The Door That Should Have Stayed Closed
Something in me shifted in that moment.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Something heavier.
Understanding that whatever was outside didn’t think of us as people.
Only as obstacles.
I moved quietly toward the children and lowered myself beside them.
“Stay under the desks,” I whispered. “No matter what happens.”
Leo grabbed my hand.
“You shouldn’t have looked,” he said again, crying now.
“I did,” I replied softly. “And I’m not leaving you.”
The handle turned again.
This time, it didn’t stop.
The lock rattled.
The entire door shook slightly.
The scratching stopped.
Complete silence returned.
Then the voice came again—but now it was right outside the wood.
Close enough that it didn’t need the intercom anymore.
“Give him back.”
The lights flickered once.
Then died completely.
Total darkness swallowed the classroom.
The children gasped.
Someone started crying quietly.
I stood still, listening.
The lock clicked.
Not breaking.
Not forced.
Clicking.
As if something on the other side knew exactly how it worked.
And in the pitch black, Leo whispered the last thing I ever expected to hear:
“He’s not outside anymore.”
A pause.
May you like
Then, very softly:
“He’s already inside.”
