The ropes burned against her wrists as she fought—fuck, she fought hard. Every muscle in her body strained, shaking with that raw, primal panic that bubbled up from deep inside when survival mode kicked in. The binds dug deeper with every yank, every wild jerk of her arms, but it didn't stop her. Couldn't. Wouldn't. But it was useless.
The binds didn't give—wouldn't give. It was like wrestling with concrete wrapped in rope.
And then ca the laughter.
Not the kind that fills a room with joy, but the kind that slithered into her ears and clawed at her bones—sharp, manic, hungry.
No, this shit was manic. The kind that crawled under your skin and made your spine twist like it wanted to run without you. The voice was warm again, syrupy and weirdly kind, but every note dripped with sick pleasure.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Stop struggling, sweetheart." The words slid through the air like poison wrapped in velvet. "It's not gonna help you. Those ropes? Not your average Ho Depot special. Nah, they're a little… special you see..."
Naomi's heart hamred harder. No. No, fuck that. She wasn't going to stop. But the heaviness of the table behind her told her otherwise—like it was alive, pushing her down. It wasn't just old wood; it was history. This school didn't buy from just anyone. It bought the best—the cream of the crop. The elite in the industry even for sothing as a chair or table. And this table? It still held that weight like a promise.
No matter how long it sat old and abandoned, it was still strong enough to hold her prisoner.
She yanked again—harder, desperate—but it was like pulling against steel disguised as thread. The binds didn't budge, didn't even stretch. And that table? Still heavy as her own goddamn fear. The room might've been falling apart, eaten away by ti, but the school?
And it held on tight, she sighed and gave up.
And then—silence reigned.
But not the peaceful kind. The kind that makes every hair on your body stand on end, like the world's holding its breath just to ss with you.
"Hmm… you're wondering why, aren't you?"
Her stomach dropped. What the fuck? Who wouldn't?
"Why you? Why now?" The voice was casual now, like it was just having a chill conversation with a friend over coffee. "Is it personal? Random? Or perhaps Ransom? Did you do sothing to deserve this?"
Naomi froze. How did they—
"Or maybe…" The voice dipped low, all honeyed venom. "Maybe you're thinking, Who the hell are you? What do you want from ?"
Her breath hitched. No, no, no—this couldn't be real.
"Oh, but wait—How long have I been here? Yeah, that one's sneaky, creeps right up on you. Ti kinda lts when you're blindfolded, huh? Minutes? Hours? Days? Bet it's starting to feel like forever already."
She wanted to scream.
"Is anyone looking for ? Now there's the million-dollar question. Are they close? Are they trying? Do they even care?"
Tears welled behind the blindfold, but she clenched her jaw tight. Don't break. Not yet.
"Am I gonna die here?"
Her whole body flinched. The air turned colder sohow, like the question itself had teeth and just bit through the room.
"But let's not stop there, sweetheart." The voice leaned in again, syrupy-smooth and too close. "What did I do to deserve this? That's the one that really stings, right? Starts to crawl under your skin after a while. Makes you think about every little fuck-up, every regret."
Naomi's pulse roared in her ears. How—how were they pulling the thoughts straight out of her head?
"Will it hurt? Hmm… not yet, maybe? But you're wondering those and more, aren't you? How bad it'll be when it starts. If it'll be slow… or if it'll just—snap—end."
Every word cut deeper than the last.
"And let's not pretend you're not asking the big one. You know—the please, just let go. I won't tell anyone. I swear." The laugh returned, low and knowing.
"Yeah… I've been hearing your thoughts loud and clear. Even if you're not saying it, I hear every little thought. Every one." At least so of them.
And in that mont, Naomi knew—this wasn't just soone who had her tied up. This was soone who was inside her head.
There was sothing wrong with the air of this darkness that was embracing her eyes—thick, heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath.
The wind didn't just blow; it dragged itself across the floor like nails on a chalkboard, whispering secrets it had no right to share. Naomi felt it, that weird pressure in her chest, that instinct that scread you're not alone.
And then ca the sound.
Thud. Clang. Thud.
Sowhere behind her, sothing slamd hard against tal—like a trash can getting dropkicked by pure rage. She didn't turn. She didn't need to. And she couldn't. Every inch of her body locked up, the cold breath of fear clawing up her throat. Her heartbeat wasn't just loud—it was a fucking war drum in her ears.
The voice slipped through the silence like poison.
"I will answer your question. But let ask mine as well. Say."
There was a drop in the air—sharp, wrong, like the crackle before a storm but colder, nastier. The kind of shift that made the tiny hairs on your neck stand up, screaming at you to run, even if your legs were tied and your whole body scread in silence. Naomi couldn't see anything—darkness swallowed everything whole—but she felt it.
The weight of soone watching her too close, standing too damn near, their breath practically curling around her like smoke.
Sothing slamd—hard. Wood against tal? A chair kicked across the floor? She didn't know, didn't want to know. Her body jolted against the ropes, heart jackhamring in her chest like it was trying to punch its way out. But the ropes held tight. Too tight. The panic clawed up her throat, thick and choking, but all she could do was listen.
Her heartbeat wasn't just loud—it was a fucking war drum in her ears.
"I was wondering about sothing that I can't wrap mind on... Why'd you stop walking that sa route ho? Huh?" Stay tuned for updates on My Virtual Library Empire
Naomi's breath hitched, freezing her solid.
"You think you were being careful?" The voice dripped with mockery, playful and cruel all at once. "Wait, did you change ho or sothing? Trying to avoid ? That hurt, you know… after everything I did to keep you safe."
Her stomach twisted so violently she thought she might puke.
"I always made sure that route was safe for you."
No. No, no, no.
"Years ago, I killed everyone who would've caused you harm on that path. Every single one of them." The voice humd low, almost proud. "You changed hos. Just like that. My efforts? Gone. Fuck..."
Naomi's heart stopped mid-beat. Two years ago—twenty people murdered. The story everyone tried to forget, the nightmare that still echoed through the halls of the school in whispers. Her throat dried up, her breath caught sowhere between terror and disbelief.
Was it them? Was this psycho the reason for that massacre?
And worse—did they do it for her? The words wrapped around her like barbed wire, dragging old mories back to life—ones she didn't want to rember. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. That voice felt so wrong. Twisted.
But the voice didn't care about her horror. It didn't stop. Maybe it didn't see her fear—or maybe it just didn't give a damn.
"You can't stop making angry, it hurts you know. Like I do everything to have you but you slip right through my fingers to slap it in my face. To show I don't matter. Just like you did yesterday. So... who the fuck was that guy you were with yesterday?"
Her body went stiff, muscles locking tight. Parker. It had to be Parker..The voice dipped darker, malice soaking every word like oil ready to ignite.
"No, no—I know who he is. Parker Black. The black sheep. The useless fucking seed of that family." Naomi's breath ca shallow now, cold sweat sliding down her back as her pulse beat out a terrified rhythm.
"What? You think I didn't see you?" Their tone twisted, venom laced with mockery. "Laughing like that, all cute, smiling while he was talking to those two bitches fighting over him practically clawing at him like he was so kind of god. You were fucking smiling around him… like he… like he deserved you."
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