The assembly hall buzzed with tension that morning. The usual playful chatter and clatter of chairs were missing. Instead, students walked in quietly, their eyes wary, mouths sealed shut. It was the kind of silence that said something was very, very wrong.
Jane sat near the middle row, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. Amara was beside her, her usually bubbly self now solemn. Even the ever-laughing Lana from down the hall was quiet, her eyes fixed on the stage ahead.
The air in the room felt thick, and the tall windows lining the side walls did nothing to ease the heaviness. Outside, the sky hung grey and cloudy, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. On the stage stood Vice Principal Hargrove, a man known for his strictness and neatly parted hair. Today, he looked… different. His face was drawn tight, his lips pursed. He stood stiffly, hands gripping the sides of the podium.
He cleared his throat, and the microphone let out a brief, sharp screech that made a few students jump.
"Students," he began, his voice deeper and more serious than usual. "I'm afraid I must deliver some deeply troubling news."
Everyone leaned forward slightly.
"Earlier this morning," he continued, "the body of your fellow student, Cindy Moore, was found."
A wave of gasps rippled through the hall. Some students covered their mouths. Others turned to each other in disbelief. Jane's heart skipped. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her seat. They were initially sad and scared in response to Cindy being missing. Though, most of them had hopes she could still be found. And now its became worse for them to be told that her lifeless body had been found.
"She was found in the eastern woods just beyond the campus boundary. The area is now a crime scene under investigation by law enforcement. Detectives and officers are currently securing the site. I must strongly urge all students to stay away from that area until further notice."
He paused, his gaze scanning the rows of stunned faces. "Counselors are available in the east wing for any student in need of support. That will be all."
He stepped away from the podium and exited the stage. The assembly hall erupted with murmurs, some of them panicked, others confused. The reality had hit.
---
The woods to the east of the campus had always been quiet, a dense patch of trees often ignored by students. But this morning, it was alive with motion.
Bright yellow police tape wrapped around tree trunks. The once peaceful forest floor was now trampled by heavy boots. Flashing red and blue lights from police cars lit up the shadows between branches. Uniformed officers moved with urgency, placing down evidence markers and setting up tents.
Detectives stood in a circle near the center of the taped-off area. A forensics photographer clicked shots rapidly, capturing every angle of the gruesome scene.
Cindy's body lay in a mess of dried leaves and broken branches. Or what was left of it.
Her body had been cut into pieces — arms, legs, and torso separated with almost surgical precision. Her chest was torn open, the organs missing. A pool of dried blood darkened the ground around her. Her face was frozen in a look of pure horror, eyes wide open, mouth mid-scream.
The scene looked like it belonged in a horror movie, not in the woods behind a school.
In the distance, a black car rolled to a halt. A tall man stepped out.
Detective Marcus Weller.
Mid-40s. Black suit, lean frame, stern eyes that scanned without blinking. Hair slicked back, face lined with experience. Rumor had it he once cracked a serial killer ring using nothing but psychology and body language.
He ducked under the tape and knelt beside the remains.
His eyes moved slowly across the scene, calm and calculating.
"This wasn't a frenzy," he said to the forensics officer beside him. "The cuts are clean. There's no panic in them."
The officer, a woman in her thirties, nodded hesitantly. "You think it was… planned?"
Weller's gaze didn't move. "More than that. It was practiced."
He stood, brushing his coat. "Someone knew exactly what they were doing."
---
Jane and Amara sat on the edge of Amara's bed, the door slightly ajar, letting in the noise of students talking anxiously in the hallway.
"I just can't believe it," Jane said softly. "She had a roommate, right?"
Amara nodded. "Yeah. Mara. They questioned her when Cindy first went missing."
Jane leaned in a little. "What did she say?"
"She told the detectives that Cindy didn't come back to the room that night. Said she thought she was in the study lounge. Then she heard screams after midnight."
Jane frowned. Her memory of that night was still fresh — the eerie voice, the chill in the air, the feeling that someone was watching her. It all seemed to tangle together.
Amara reached for a small chocolate bar on her table and unwrapped it slowly. "You okay, Jane? You look… distant."
Jane forced a smile. "Just tired, that's all."
Amara didn't push further.
---
Detective Weller stood in the school's surveillance room, staring at a large screen. The footage showed the main corridor of Queen's Hall.
"Rewind to 10:15 PM," he instructed.
The tech officer slid the footage back. Cindy appeared on screen, walking through the corridor, wearing a grey hoodie and holding her phone.
"Pause," Weller said. "Now play slowly."
Cindy moved toward her room. She entered. Then—
The footage skipped.
"Wait—what was that?"
The screen jumped suddenly to 10:48 PM. There was no recording of her coming out of her room. Nothing.
"Why is there a gap?" he asked.
The technician looked confused. "That… shouldn't happen. The cameras don't have blind spots. Someone must've cut the footage manually."
Weller's expression darkened. "Find out who had access to this room in the last 72 hours."
---
The detective stood firm, his eyes narrowed as he faced Maya in the quiet corner of the Queens Hall common room. Students watched from a distance, whispering nervously. He held a small tablet in his gloved hand, the screen playing a loop of surveillance footage. "You lied, Maya," he said flatly. "You said Cindy never came back that night. But she did. This footage proves she entered the dorm, and the time stamp doesn't lie."
Maya's face twisted with panic, then defiance. "I—I don't know what you're talking about!" she snapped, her voice trembling, eyes darting between the detective and the growing crowd. "That footage means nothing. I didn't see her. I swear!"
The detective's expression didn't change. He swiped on the tablet and brought up another video. "This was the day before Cindy went missing. A secluded blind spot near the west wing garden, behind the old storage building. A place no one would expect to be watched." The footage showed Maya, her face clearly visible, nervously pacing. A tall figure approached—face hidden beneath a black hoodie. He handed her an envelope. She glanced around and quickly pocketed it.
Maya's breath hitched. Her defiance flickered into visible fear. "That's not—That's not what it looks like."
"No?" the detective asked quietly, folding the tablet under his arm. "Because to me, it looks like motive."
Maya took a step back, chest heaving. Her eyes glossed with tears and panic. She looked ready to bolt—but officers were already closing in.
Maya was escorted out of Queen's Hall in handcuffs. Her face was pale, her lips pressed in a thin line.
Students gathered outside the building, phones out, filming the scene. Gasps and whispers filled the air.
Jane and Amara stood at a distance.
"She lied," Amara whispered. "She said Cindy never came back that night. But the cameras caught her returning."
Jane shook her head slowly. "Why would she lie about something like that?"
Just as the police officers were guiding Maya toward a black vehicle parked nearby, a sharp crack rang out.
BANG.
Maya's head snapped sideways. A red mist burst from her temple.
She dropped instantly.
Screams filled the air. Some students ran. Others ducked. Phones hit the ground.
"Get down!" an officer yelled, pulling his weapon.
Weller was already on the ground, eyes scanning the rooftops. "Find the shooter! Now!"
But the rooftops were clear. There were no glints of metal, no movement. Whoever had taken the shot was a ghost.
Weller rushed to Maya's body. Blood was pooling fast. Her eyes were lifeless, staring upward.
A sniper. One shot. Clean, professional.
"Someone wanted her silenced," he muttered.
---
Later That Night
Weller sat alone in his office at the CIU (Criminal Investigation Unit) security center. The walls were covered with notes, photos, and maps. Strings connected pins across a large corkboard.
Cindy's photo. Maya's profile. The bloodied crime scene. A map of the east woods. A circle over the surveillance room.
He sipped black coffee, eyes darting between connections.
"This isn't just a killing. This is a system," he said aloud. "There's a pattern. A chain. Something bigger hiding in plain sight."
He circled Maya's name. Then Cindy's. Then Queen's Hall.
He drew a thick red line between them.
"Secrets," he muttered. "And someone's willing to kill to keep them buried."
---
Midnight, Queen's Hall
Jane lay in bed, eyes wide open. The events of the day raced through her head. Cindy. Maya. The blood. The scream.
The hallway outside was quiet.
Too quiet.
Then… a whisper.
Soft. Distant. Almost like it was coming from within her closet.
She sat up slowly, heart thudding.
Then, clearer this time — a man's voice, low and cold.
"She's only the beginning."