The air was still warm as evening settled over the city, but the hallways of Saint Jude’s Hospital carried a chill that clung to Helena’s arms like frost.She followed Greg in silence as they moved past the nurses’ station and took the elevator to the third floor. The building smelled faintly of antiseptic and wilted flowers. Helena hated hospitals—too many memories she couldn’t bury. But tonight wasn’t about her.Tessy was still sedated. Her body curled beneath crisp white sheets, an IV trailing into the crook of her elbow. Her lips were pale. Bruised.Greg stood at the foot of the bed, jaw clenched. “She’s been like this since yesterday?”Helena nodded. “The doctors said the drugs used were... heavy. It could’ve been worse.”Greg didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at Tessy like he was trying to hold back everything he wanted to scream. Finally, he spoke.“She didn’t deserve this. None of this.”Helena lowered herself into the chair beside the bed, brushing Tessy’s fingers wi
It was a strange kind of normal that settled over Brentford.Sophia’s shadow still clung to the corners of Helena’s thoughts, and Greg hadn’t stopped searching. But the rest of the school moved on — whispering, watching, pretending nothing was wrong.Even the teachers.“Don’t let the madness distract you,” Mrs. Winston had said, laying out a thick pile of test papers the week before. “English Literature is still 40% of your final grade.”So they took the test.Helena remembered staring down at the essay prompt: “Monsters wear familiar faces. Discuss.”She’d written like her life depended on it. Because maybe, in a way, it did.Now, a week later, the results were out.Students gathered in the common room where a stack of white envelopes had been sorted by class rep — and unfortunately for Class B, that was Bianca.With perfect nails and her usual smug expression, Bianca clicked across the room in heels far too high for a Monday morning.She handed out the results one by one, smiling sw
Three Years Ago — Brentford Academy, Term 3It started with a whisper.A name.A file.A door that should’ve been locked… but wasn’t.Sophia Makinde had always been curious — a scholarship student with sharp eyes, quick hands, and a thirst for answers. Brentford glittered on the surface, but underneath, she’d seen its cracks. And she knew how to listen.She also knew the rumors about the boys in power — the secret meetings, the falsified grades, the girls who left mid-term without warning.But what she never expected was to find her own name on the list.One Week Before She VanishedThe principal had left her office door open after hours — a mistake.Sophia slipped in. The office was dark except for the low hum of the backup monitor. She didn’t mean to snoop. She just wanted to understand why her scholarship was suddenly “under review.”But what she saw wasn’t just about her.Ten names.All girls.All scholarship students.All gone.Some marked “Expelled”. Others “Transferred”.But th
The call came in just after midnight.Tessy.Found.The entire school had been shaken when she went missing two days earlier. Posters had gone up. Teachers had scrambled. Greg had nearly torn through the student council lounge demanding answers. But now, she had been discovered—tied up, drugged, and locked inside an old maintenance shed behind the tennis courts.Still alive.Helena stood by the hospital window, arms wrapped tightly around her middle as the rain drizzled outside. Tessy lay asleep on the bed, a shallow bruise along her jaw, IV in her arm, lips dry and cracked. The doctor said she had been sedated with something mild, nothing lethal—but enough to keep her unconscious for hours.Greg burst into the room, drenched from the storm. He saw Tessy, saw Helena—and froze.“Is she… okay?”“She will be,” Helena said softly. “Barely. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”Greg’s jaw tightened. “They’re sending a message.”Helena turned to face him. “They’re not just targeting
The chapel at Brentford had been closed for years.Once used for assemblies and ceremonies, it now stood in silence — a forgotten monument near the west edge of the school grounds, where weeds crept over stone paths and ivy clawed up the walls.At 11:57 p.m., Helena slipped out of the detention wing’s side window, hoodie pulled low, shoes quiet on the gravel. Her heart thundered in her chest as she darted between shadows, every crack of a twig a bullet to her nerves.The chapel loomed ahead — tall, black-roofed, and silent as a tomb.She pushed open the old wooden doors, which creaked on rusted hinges. Dust swirled in the moonlight that poured through the broken stained glass. The altar was cracked. The pews sagged.But it was the floorboard near the front that caught her eye.Slightly warped.Recently moved.Helena stepped forward and crouched, fingers trembling as she pried it loose. Beneath was a hollow space — and inside it, wrapped in faded red cloth, was a tin lockbox.She opene
The next morning felt different.Even the sun filtering through Greg’s dorm window couldn’t shake the weight in Helena’s chest. The events of last night—being locked in that surveillance room, the photo, the recording—clung to her skin like smoke.She sat on the edge of Greg’s bed, staring at her phone.The voice message Sophia left had only one line:“If you find this… it means I didn’t make it out.”Those words haunted her.But before she could replay it again, her phone vibrated.Theo: I got your email. I’m in the computer lab now. You need to see this. Bring the recorder.Helena grabbed her bag.“I have to go,” she said to Greg.He rubbed his eyes, still half-awake. “Want me to come?”She hesitated. “Not yet. I need to do this with Theo first.”Greg nodded, quietly watching her leave.At the Computer LabTheo’s fingers flew over the keyboard as Helena walked in.“I ran the audio through four different filters,” he said without looking up. “There’s more than just her voice on that