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.

304. That

keycard, I couldn’t help but

Nothing. Just the hallway.

guy. No

Just silence.

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

wardrobe. Everything was clean, untouched. But one bed was already made up. Neatly. Military style. With a duffel bag sitting at

roommate had

looks of the bed... he was tidy.

Creepy.

the other mattress, sat down, and let out a breath I didn’t realize

is going on

with glowing eyes, to staff who sniff documents like

me "little lamb" like he’s auditioning for a villain role in some twisted

all too

needed to talk to Sara. I needed

hear Clare, even if she’d mock

make sure whatever I’d hacked into... hadn’t landed me in something way bigger than I

looked toward the

sun

the sky was turning the wrong

Like a warning.

Like blood in water.

I could swear I heard something

*********

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

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

folding my shirts into the drawer, I heard it—a sharp knock

up, man! Open up...! Oh

a beat. Without thinking, I rushed to unlock the door. My fingers fumbled, my pulse picking up with the urgency in the voice

figure bolted inside, slamming the door behind him with a force that

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

didn’t quite fit in here. It was the way his body shook, trembled with fear. Like he had

eye as he stumbled across the room—one on his shirt collar, the other just beneath his shoulder.

stomach twisted. Was this guy in trouble? Was

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

hell had

unsure of what to do. Should I help him? Call someone?

are you alright?" I asked,

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