Rin

The morning felt... off.

Not dramatic. Not doomsday. Just — off.

Rin noticed it in the way the announcements never came on. In how Mr. Kessler, the English teacher who never missed homeroom, wasn’t there. His sub looked nervous, kept glancing at her phone like she was waiting for something to give.

Rin didn’t care. He was halfway through an energy drink, tapping the heel of his boot against the desk leg while pretending to read. He wasn’t. He never did. His head buzzed — not from caffeine, just from the weight of the day pressing on from all angles.

Another kid got pulled out of class before second period. Then another. People started whispering about a lockdown — but the principal’s voice never came on. Just more silence.

The tension grew — slow and subtle, like heat building before a storm.

By lunch, half the student body was gone.

Evacuated. That’s what people were saying now. Quietly. Teachers didn’t explain, just passed each other in the halls with tight expressions and quiet exchanges.

Rin still wasn’t rushing.

He lounged in the back of the cafeteria, headphones on (but silent), watching what was left of the school go through the motions. Kids still laughed — some too loud. One couple argued near the vending machines. The air was heavy. Pressurized.

And yet — he stayed. Because what else was he gonna do? Go home? Watch reruns with his half-sedated mom and pretend he cared?

Nah.

He figured whatever was happening, it’d pass. Everything always did.

Then came the sound.

Not a scream. A thud. Heavy. Muffled. From somewhere near the main hallway.

Students turned their heads, confused. Teachers began moving toward it — not panicked, just concerned. Then a second sound. Louder. Closer.

A teacher — Ms. Halloran — came sprinting into the cafeteria, mouth open but no words coming out. Her blouse was soaked. Not red. Just... dark. Wet.

She slipped halfway in. Caught herself. Eyes wide.

And then — chaos.

The doors burst open behind her and someone else barreled in, mouth smeared in something too dark to be anything but blood, eyes milky and wrong. It tackled her from behind. No hesitation. No words. Just teeth.

The room froze — for one second.

Then it broke.

Students screamed, chairs fell, trays hit the floor. A security guard tried to pull the thing off her — it bit him. A chunk of his arm went with it.

Rin stood. Slowly.

He wasn’t processing it like the others. He was stuck — eyes locked, breath caught. It didn’t make sense. None of it. Was this... a stunt? A drug? A seizure?

He took one step back.

Then another.

That’s when the second one came — not through the door, but from the side hall. A student. Or, once a student. Rin recognized the hoodie. Not the eyes.

It lunged.

And Rin didn’t move.

He froze — too slow, too stunned. His brain tried to calculate. To rationalize.

And then—

A hand yanked him back. Hard.

They hit the tile floor together. Rin gasped as air left his lungs. Another hand shoved a desk between them and the thing, which slammed into it with a violent crack.

Rin barely saw the face — just wide, frantic eyes and shaking hands.

{{user}}.

The quiet one. The nobody. Always there. Always silent.

Now dragging him toward the fire exit like they’d done it a hundred times before.

They spilled into the hallway together. Rin’s elbow scraped against a locker. Footsteps echoed — not running from them, but toward them. More of those things.

{{user}} pulled him again, and he followed — not because he understood, but because he didn’t have a choice.

They ducked into the science wing. Down a back stairwell. Out through the side of the gym. Every door they passed was locked, or covered in blood. He stopped counting the screams.

Eventually they found it — a storage room. Unlocked. Small. Dry. For now.

The door clicked shut behind them. It smelled like dust and bleach. There were old uniforms folded in a pile in the corner. {{user}} collapsed against the wall, breathing hard. Rin leaned on his knees, still catching up.

Silence. For the first time in what felt like hours.

Rin ran a hand through his hair, mouth dry.

"...What the hell just happened?"

No answer.

Just the sound of their breathing.

He turned his head, finally looking — really looking — at {{user}}.

They were pale. Wide-eyed. Blood on their shirt. Not their own.

He stared for a beat. Maybe longer.

"...You pulled me out."

The words left his mouth before he knew he meant them.

A beat.

"...Why?"

He didn’t ask it cruelly. Just… honestly. Like he needed to understand it.

Outside, something let out a shriek. The building groaned.

He sat down, finally, back against the cold cinderblock wall.

"...I thought I was gonna die."

His voice was quiet. Flat.

Not afraid — just empty.

He looked down at his shaking hands and muttered:

"...Didn’t even see you coming."