CHAPTER 161: "RUN, FOOL, RUN"

Lucas POV

I woke up early.

Not like I’d really slept.

Even in my dreams, they were there—laughing, watching, touching. I couldn’t breathe right even when unconscious.

Who would’ve thought the monsters wore such beautiful faces?

Hot people. Models. Walking gods. That’s what they looked like. But behind those glowing eyes and sharp smiles, something rotted. Something old. Inhuman.

They didn’t even have to hide it well. We—humans—are too stupid, too desperate to be seen, to be touched, to matter, to even notice the danger.

I looked like a goddamn zombie by the time morning came up. Hollow-eyed. Grey. Shaky. My face was pale, eyes sunken, limbs heavy.

But I didn’t care.

I knew one thing: I would only be able to breathe again the moment I got out of this godforsaken hellhole of a place.

I’d made up my mind.

I was leaving.

No matter what.

I was halfway through stuffing the last of my things into my bag—zipper straining from how fast I was packing—when my roommate stirred.

Clark sat up, blinking through the sleep, his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Hey," he croaked. "What’re you doing?"

"Leaving," I muttered without looking at him.

He rubbed his face. "What? Why?"

"I’m going home."

Clark blinked a few times, then sat all the way up.

"You didn’t just pass the entrance exams and get accepted into Memoville to run off before orientation, man," he said. "Come on."

His tone was casual—like I’d just been through a bad breakup or lost a wallet.

He thought I was bullied.

Bullied.

What happened to me... that wasn’t bullying.

That was something else.

Something no human should ever experience.

Something no one would believe even if I tried to explain it.

And that’s exactly why they get away with it. Why there’s always fresh meat.

I crouched to grab my hoodie and stuffed it into my duffel, trying not to scream.

"You won’t believe me anyway," I said. "Nobody ever does. That’s why they always get fresh meat. That’s what we are to them."

Clark was more awake now. More alert. He watched me closely.

"...What are you talking about?" he asked.

I looked at him, finally.

"You saw it, didn’t you?" I asked. "The ones that walk like they’ve never tripped in their lives? The ones that talk like they’re in a Shakespeare play and never blink at the right time?"

His silence wasn’t just confusion—it was recognition.

"Didn’t you feel it?" I pushed. "The cold? The eyes? The paleness? The way the damn wind moves when they pass by like it’s bowing to them?"

Clark stared at me.

Maybe scared with me. Maybe of me.

But he didn’t laugh.

And that was enough to give me hope.

"Come on, Lucas..." he said, his voice unsure.

But I cut him off.

"You know what’s funny?" I said, swallowing the bitterness rising in my throat. "I knew something was off the moment that woman at registration smelled my ID. Not scanned it. Smelled it. Like it was meat."

He froze.

"...She did that to me too," he said quietly.

Something flickered between us—shared unease, maybe. Or the start of belief.

But he still sat on the bed.

Still hesitated.

"Then why the hell are you still here?" I asked him, sharper than I meant to.

He didn’t answer.

And that silence told me everything.

I’d tried.

I really had.

If he wanted to stay, if he wanted to wait until one of them lured him away with a perfect face and a perfect voice and a perfect fucking smile—fine.

Let him find out on his own.

"Don’t trust anyone," I said as I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder. "Especially the ones who smile too much."

That’s the thing, right?

Their smiles.

Wide. Bright. Charming.

Hiding teeth.

Hiding cruelty.

And someone like me—a stupid, wide-eyed fool—fell into the trap thinking: Hey, a hot guy noticed me. A pretty girl wants to show me around. Lucky me.

Fucking pathetic.

No more.

I was done.

First and last stop: the airport.

And may this entire place burn before I ever set foot back here.

*********

It was too early—so early the whole place was dead silent. Not a soul in sight. Just long, dark halls and an oppressive stillness that made every step echo like a threat.

I walked fast. As fast as I could. I didn’t want to be here one second longer than necessary.

The entire campus felt abandoned. Deserted. And yet, not empty.

I walked fast—faster than I probably should have—my duffel bouncing against my back with every step. I kept my head down, heart pounding, eyes locked on the floor tiles beneath my feet.

I didn’t want to stay in this place one second longer.

But the halls...

God, the halls.

They were too long. Too still. Too quiet. The kind of silence that presses against your ears like cotton. The kind you only hear in graveyards or after something dies.

The atmosphere felt like it had been pulled straight from a Gothic horror movie. High arched ceilings. Cold stone walls. The occasional flickering light bulb that seemed to sputter only when I walked under it. Thick air, flickering lights, and shadows that seemed to stretch longer than they should. Just walking through those halls made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I didn’t know if it was fear or instinct screaming at me to run.

I swear the air changed the further I went. Heavy. Thick. Like the building itself knew I was trying to leave—and didn’t like it.

The layout stopped making sense.

The place itself seemed to fight me.

Like the university knew I wanted to escape. Like it had a mind of its own and wasn’t ready to let me go. I kept turning corner after corner, passing hallways I swore I’d seen before. The exits didn’t exist—just endless corridors, like I was stuck in some kind of cursed maze.

Row after row of identical corridors, all without windows, without signs. Just doors. Hallways. A repeating maze. I swear I passed the same painting twice—a portrait of a pale man with too many teeth and too sharp eyes.

Was the building shifting?

I stopped. My breathing was uneven.

"No," I whispered to myself. "No. You’re just scared. You’re imagining it."

I yanked out the crumpled campus map from my pocket, unfolded it, and focused. Just follow the map. Don’t look up. Don’t think.

I walked. Step by step, tracing my way with my finger. I walked blindly, one foot in front of the other, following the lines and arrows without meeting the shadows around me.

Once, I did glance up—and the hallway I stood in didn’t look like it was leading outside.

It looked like it was pulling me deeper in.

It felt like I was heading deeper into the university. Deeper into the belly of the beast.

But I didn’t turn around. I didn’t let myself think about it. I kept following the lines on the map like they were lifelines—my last chance to claw my way out of this place.

And then—

Exit.

The sign was small, red, glowing faintly above a pair of wide wooden doors.

I froze.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe—not from fear this time, but from a flicker of hope so strong it nearly hurt.

But even then, something was off. I didn’t see anyone, but I felt

them. A presence behind me. Watching. Following. I didn’t stop to check.

I ran.

I shoved open the doors, stumbling outside—and nearly collapsed.

Sunlight.

Real, honest-to-God sunlight.

The sky was pale orange with streaks of pink. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow across the stone courtyard and the perfectly manicured lawns. Birds chirped somewhere far off.

I had never loved the sun as much as I did in that exact moment.

I felt like crying.

For the first time since yesterday—since the garden, since the wolves, since the blood—I could finally breathe.

I stepped forward, off the path, onto the gravel walk that led to the front entrance gates.

It was... beautiful.

Too beautiful.

The trees swayed gently in the wind. Flowers lined the paths in unnatural symmetry. Everything looked pristine, peaceful, untouched.

But I knew what hid behind that beauty.

Monsters.

Predators wrapped in perfect skin and charming voices.

I walked quickly across campus grounds—so beautiful on the outside with its neatly trimmed trees, flowers, and birds chirping in the early light. You’d never guess it was a nest for monsters.

I quickened my pace toward the gate. Still, I didn’t see anyone.

But I felt eyes on me.

Watching.

Judging.

Waiting.

Two guards stood at the gate. Big. Armed. Dressed like military. Eyes hidden behind sunglasses. I tensed, expecting them to stop me.

But they didn’t.

They just looked me up and down—taking in my bruised face, my busted duffel bag, my uneven steps—and scoffed.

One of them leaned against the wall and pressed a button. The gate groaned open.

Like they’d seen this before.

Like they knew something I didn’t.

That should’ve been the warning.

That look.

That smirk.

But I was too relieved. Too desperate to get out.

I walked through those gates, not daring to look back, not letting myself pause.

Once outside, I nearly collapsed again. The weight that lifted from my chest was unreal.

I was out.

I was out.

Now all I needed was a cab. A ride to the airport. A ticket home. And this—this fucked-up nightmare—would be over.

I reached for my phone, opened the ride app with trembling fingers.

Just a cab.

Just a seat on a plane.

Just...

Just let me wake up from this.