Chapter 1

Aria had closed her eyes as if it would take her back to the moment this whole theater of a nightmare had started.

It was mid-afternoon—a tiring Monday no one liked—and yet the windows glistened with delight.

The sun had stood high, its rays stretched far and wide, its blaze proud as ever during the summer, and birds sang melodies with cheer.

It was none other than a dull day to most, and one of them was Aria.

Classes passed by in boredom, and she found more interest in staring at a squirrel out the window than in listening to some lecture about the earth's crust, which was, in fact, pointless in her opinion.

Her thoughts had started to cloud over into daydream, but like a needle bursting through a bubble, it seemed as if everyone was jolted awake.

A blaring alarm startled near, and most shrieked in fear. Aria could see the head principal—running?

A mix of utter horror painted her youthful features, and what soon followed was a monstrous scream, painting the rather bland halls of the corridor with red, giving it a pop of color.

The sky darkened, and the sun hid behind the clouds, not bearing to look at such gore.

The professor quickly locked the door, drew in the curtains, and frantically reached for her phone to make a quick dial. But on the other end—the only answer—silence. No signal.

Aria had slammed her eyes shut as if the whole predicament was nothing but a headache to deal with. Dull brown eyes scanned everyone with mild disinterest.

What a pain, she thought.

Panicking would do no wonders for their current situation—however natural—though in her opinion, what they ought to do was figure out what exactly was happening.

A school shooting? Most likely. But Aria had a feeling it was more than met the eye, and soon she'd get the answers to her questions.

Mere seconds lapsed, but to the students, it felt like a slow countdown to a never-ending nightmare.

No one dared to utter even a quiet breath. Some held each other; some backed away into corners, away from the door, mumbling comforts to themselves. The teacher had slumped onto her chair, looking utterly defeated.

Meanwhile, out of the corner of her eye, Aria had spotted a note tucked between the old tiles of the ceiling floor, which caught her attention- Old in color, it mimicked the tiles almost deliberately.

"That's odd, she murmured to herself. I'm almost sure it was never there before."

Perhaps she hadn't given it enough mind to notice it before? Curiosity slowly made its way to the tip of her fingers and itched at her to do something.

She contemplated whether or not to reach up and take it—and with everyone too caught up in their own worries, no one would really notice, would they?

So she brushed her bangs aside, stood on her chair, and reached up as high as she could. A person of short stature would find it difficult, such as herself, if not for the ceiling being of close height.

Aria sat back down and unfolded the yellow-stained note. She squinted, trying to make out the messy handwriting, and slowly, letter by letter, words started to take shape.

They'll ...come back and they'll take who they need.

If one looked carefully, they'd see the slight furrow of her eyebrows and the downturn of her lips.

Cobwebs of questions spun around in her mind. What…? Who's coming back?

Judging by how old this note looked, maybe this was all just pointless—hiding such things was not unusual as far as she was aware, whether to prank and spook others or play some sort of game.

Yet a soft whisper tugged at her like rope, reeling her back in towards the shore of her earlier suspicions.

It whispered softly.

But what if this was something more? Something tied to whatever the hell is happening? Isn't it too strange to just be the world's events bumping into each other—just coincidence?

But the thing was, Aria never believed in coincidences. Everything had to have a reason for happening, putting a temporary stop to her mind wandering. She sighed to herself and tucked the note into her vest's small pocket.

She was about to get up and comfort the teacher—the woman honestly looked like she was going to faint—when the door was flung wide open, abandoning its hinges. Wood splintered everywhere with such brute force that before anyone had the chance to sync their bodies and brains, a series of gunshots were fired.

5 dead. 8 dead. 23 dead.

And all that was left standing was the girl with dull brown eyes.

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