Killer Geek (SLOW UPDATES)

Yn

The café felt like a fading dream the moment I stepped outside. The warmth of Dewey’s concern, the gentle reassurance in his voice — it was all slipping away, replaced by the sharp chill of the evening air.

“I’ll be fine,” I told myself, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dewey had things to take care of, and I didn’t want to keep leaning on him like a lifeline. I could handle this. I had to.

The walk back to my dorm felt longer than usual, every shadow a little too dark, every rustling leaf a whispered threat. I gripped the straps of my backpack so tight my fingers ached, my eyes darting to every flicker of movement.

But the courtyard was empty. The halls were silent. No Ghostface under the flickering lamppost. No shadow in the trees.

Maybe Dewey was right. Maybe I was just letting the fear get to me.

But as I reached my dorm door and slid my key into the lock, that brief spark of calm died.

The door swung open.

I hadn’t unlocked it yet.

My breath hitched. I stepped back, the hallway suddenly too quiet, too still.

“Hello?” I whispered, my voice barely louder than a breath.

Silence.

No. No, this wasn’t happening. Maybe I forgot to lock it when I ran out earlier. Maybe… maybe I just hadn’t pulled it shut all the way.

But I knew I did. I always did.

My fingers tightened around my keychain, and I forced myself to step forward. The room was dark, the curtains half-drawn, a faint amber glow from the setting sun spilling across the floor.

Everything looked… normal.

My textbooks were still scattered across the desk. My bed was unmade, the blankets tangled from my earlier panic. The old landline phone sat on the nightstand, silent and still.

But I couldn’t shake it. That feeling of being watched. Of someone — something — lurking just out of sight.

I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. The lock clicked into place with a soft, final sound. My backpack slid off my shoulder, thudding onto the floor.

“It’s fine,” I whispered to myself, trying to force the panic away. “You’re just being paranoid.”

I walked over to the window, peering out between the curtains. The courtyard below was empty, shadows stretching as the sun sank lower. No sign of anyone watching. No flicker of black robes or white masks.

I let the curtain fall back, turning toward my bed. Maybe I should just pack a bag, head to Dewey’s for the night. Safety in numbers. That made sense. I didn’t have to be brave. I just had to be smart.

My hands trembled as I grabbed a duffel bag from my closet, tossing in a change of clothes, a sweater—

The phone rang.

I froze.

No.

Not again.

It rang once. Twice. The sound a piercing scream in the silence.

Slowly, I turned to look at it — the old, off-white landline sitting on the nightstand. No caller ID, just the relentless, shrill ring.

I stared at it, my heart pounding so hard I thought I might faint.

It rang again.

Another ring.

My fingers twitched, a war raging in my head — answer it or run. But my feet wouldn’t move. My hand wouldn’t reach.