CHAPTER 144: SHAKEN UP ROOMIE

Clark POV:

What was it with these upperclassmen and their habit of staring like they wanted to eat me or recruit me into a cult?

I stepped back. Just once. Enough to put a breath of space between us.

"Which way to West Hall?" I asked, pointing down the twin hallways like a kid asking which door leads to safety and which to the trap.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he took a slow step forward, his shoes silent on the stone floor.

Then another.

Then he was close—closer than comfortable.

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he leaned down slightly, face inches from mine.

"Whichever way you walk..." he murmured, "you’ll still end up where the house wants you to go."

I blinked. "The house?"

He looked around, his expression shifting from mild amusement to something almost reverent. "Memoville. The school. This place... it listens. It chooses. You don’t find a room here. A room finds you."

Okay. That was enough.

The guy was clearly high or one of those creepy drama club types who never broke character.

I gave him a tight smile and started to edge around him. "Cool story, man. Appreciate the ominous vibes."

He didn’t stop me, but he did whisper one last thing as I passed:

"Try not to bleed, little lamb. They can smell it."

My feet froze for half a second before I forced myself to walk.

Walk.

Do not run.

You never run when the predator is still watching.

I picked the right hallway—at least, I think I did. The walls started to have signs again, and after what felt like an hour, I found a wooden door with West Hall Dormitory scrawled above it in gothic lettering.

Room 304. That was mine.

As I reached into my pocket for the keycard, I couldn’t help but look behind me again.

Nothing. Just the hallway.

No tall guy. No rush of wind.

Just silence.

I made it to my dorm room without another incident, but something about the lock felt... strange. When I swiped the keycard, the red light blinked, then green. The click of the lock echoed louder than it should have.

Inside, the room was simple but nice—two beds, two desks, one shared wardrobe. Everything was clean, untouched. But one bed was already made up. Neatly. Military style. With a duffel bag sitting at the foot.

My roommate had already arrived.

And by the looks of the bed... he was tidy. Meticulous.

Creepy.

I tossed my bag on the other mattress, sat down, and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

What the hell is going on in this place?

From perfect people who don’t blink, to students with glowing eyes, to staff who sniff documents like they’re potpourri...

And now this weird-ass senior calling me "little lamb" like he’s auditioning for a villain role in some twisted fairytale?

It was all too much.

I needed to talk to Sara. I needed her voice, her sarcasm, her groundedness.

I needed to hear Clare, even if she’d mock me for being this spooked.

But most of all, I needed to make sure whatever I’d hacked into... hadn’t landed me in something way bigger than I could handle.

I looked toward the window.

Outside, the sun was setting.

But the sky was turning the wrong shade of red.

Like a warning.

Like blood in water.

And somewhere deep in the walls, I could swear I heard something scratching.

*********

The notification from the university popped up on my phone, breaking the tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. Apparently, due to the massive influx of students, the registration was still ongoing. They’d postponed the orientation until tomorrow morning, after everyone was registered and placed properly in the system. Great. More time to unpack, I thought, rolling my eyes. Maybe this place wasn’t as organized as I first thought.

I sighed, throwing my phone on the bed and turning to finish making it. I arranged the pillows meticulously, trying to focus on something mundane, but my mind kept wandering. I should have been used to these kinds of spaces by now. New rooms, new faces, new places to hack, but the odd energy of the campus was getting to me. The eerie way the hallway seemed to stretch on endlessly. The way people stared too long, like they could see something behind my eyes that I wasn’t ready to show.

As I was folding my shirts into the drawer, I heard it—a sharp knock at the door, followed by frantic, breathless shouts.

"Open up, man! Open up...! Oh God—OH GOD, open up!"

My heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, I rushed to unlock the door. My fingers fumbled, my pulse picking up with the urgency in the voice outside. I wasn’t sure if it was a joke, some kind of prank, but I couldn’t leave someone in distress.

The door swung open, but before I could even ask what was going on, the figure bolted inside, slamming the door behind him with a force that made the walls shake. I blinked, stunned, as the guy huddled against the door like it might burst open at any second.

From my quick observation, I could tell he was small—slightly shorter than me—and... too pretty for a guy. His features were delicate, almost feminine. He looked like someone who belonged on a runway, not in a dorm room. His pale skin shimmered under the fluorescent lights, and his eyes were wide—wide with terror. His breath was ragged, like he’d been running for miles.

But it wasn’t the beauty that caught my attention. It wasn’t the delicate features or the sense that he didn’t quite fit in here. It was the way his body shook, trembled with fear. Like he had seen something that should have stayed buried. Something unnatural.

Two droplets of crimson caught my eye as he stumbled across the room—one on his shirt collar, the other just beneath his shoulder. It was fresh blood. Dark. How had he gotten blood on him in the first place?

My stomach twisted. Was this guy in trouble? Was he attacked? Or worse—had he done something?

I opened my mouth to ask, but he didn’t give me the chance. Without a word, he crawled onto the made-up bed across from mine, his body curling into itself. He looked like a child, hiding from the monster under the bed.

What the hell had happened to him?

I stood frozen by the door, unsure of what to do. Should I help him? Call someone? I didn’t know if he was in trouble or if he was the trouble.

"Hey, are you alright?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

He didn’t answer.

I took a slow step closer, watching as his body trembled beneath the covers. His wide eyes stared blankly at the wall, his mouth barely moving when he whispered, "I wouldn’t go out if I were you."

His voice cracked as he said it, as if warning me of something even worse waiting outside. The way he said it—it wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command, a plea.

I could feel my pulse quicken. What the hell was he talking about? What was out there?

I wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but his posture made it clear he didn’t want to speak anymore. He turned his back to me, completely covering himself with the bed covers, burying his head deep under the fabric like a scared child trying to escape the real world.

I stood there for a moment, unsure what to do next. The silence in the room felt oppressive, almost suffocating. And the longer I stood there, the more I realized how wrong everything about this place felt. The blood on his shirt, the panic in his eyes, his cryptic warning—all of it felt like I was standing on the edge of something terrible. Something that wasn’t meant to be uncovered.

What was going on at this university?

I thought back to my earlier encounter with that senior, the one with the eerie glowing eyes. And the woman at the registration counter. They all felt... off. No one was acting like normal people. It was as if the world here had shifted into something darker.

I glanced at my phone again, the notification still lingering on the screen. Tomorrow’s orientation. A chance to blend in, to see what kind of place I had signed up for. But now, with my roommate trembling in front of me like he was a walking corpse, I had to wonder if this place would ever let me go back to normal.

I went to the window, trying to shake the unsettling feelings crawling up my spine. I peeked outside, but the dark sky offered no comfort. The stars were hidden behind thick clouds, and the moon was just a sliver in the sky. Everything seemed so still. The campus had been buzzing earlier with new students, but now... there was no sound. No movement. It felt like the calm before a storm.

I could hear the faintest creak of a floorboard somewhere down the hall. Then silence again.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to calm myself. Maybe I was just overthinking things. Maybe I was just tired from the trip.

But the weight of the air in the room, the feeling that something was wrong, only grew stronger. Something was going on here—something that wasn’t supposed to be.

And the worst part?

I had a sinking feeling that whatever it was, my roommate knew more than he was letting on.

I hesitated before I spoke again, but I had to ask.

"Do you know what’s going on here?"

There was no response, just the rustling of the covers.

But then, just before I turned away, his voice came again, muffled but clear.

"I want to go back home."

That was it. No explanation. No more words. Just that chilling statement.

My heart raced as I stared at the back of his head, buried beneath the sheets.

What the hell had I walked into?

I had to know more. I needed to know more.

I couldn’t just sit here, not when the whole place felt wrong.

But what if he was right? What if the moment I stepped outside this room, everything changed? What if I became part of whatever twisted game was being played at Memoville?