The classroom bell finally rang, signaling the end of the semester. I stretched my neck and shoulders, eager to embrace the long-awaited vacation. With a proud smile, I walked to the front of the room and handed my completed accounting exam to Mr. Tyrus, our renowned instructor.

"Enjoy your vacation," he said with an unexpected warmth, holding up my paper. "And don't worry too much about the results. Everyone deserves a break—especially when this semester's been such a pain in the ass."

I chuckled, nodding in agreement. "I'll take your course as an example, Sir Ty."

He chuckled in return. "Fair enough."

Of course, he was joking. Our accounting professor had gone above and beyond to make the course as manageable as possible. Unlike some of our other instructors, who seemed determined to make our lives miserable from day one, especially those handling minor subjects that acted like they were the main event this semester.

"See you around, Sir," I called, watching Mr. Tyrus as he left, disappearing gracefully around the corner, our exams tucked under his arm.

As I returned to my seat, the relief washed over me. My blockmates had left a while ago, but I'd stayed behind, double-checking my answers right up until the last minute, especially the essay. After a moment to recharge, I stowed my pen and finally headed out, ready to wrap up the day.

The walk down the empty corridor felt strangely surreal, almost nostalgic. This space, now quiet and deserted, had been buzzing with life and laughter just hours ago. Most students had bolted right after the bell, eager to catch the next bus or make plans for dinner. But I wanted to take my time, to soak in these last few moments of the semester and revisit some memories woven into the walls of this place.

At the academy's front gate, I paused and looked back, whispering to myself, "One more semester to go, Akari. You can do this—just one more."

The quiet walk home was my own personal therapy. No cost, no distractions, just the rhythm of my footsteps and the calming hum of the city. As I approached the crosswalk, my phone vibrated in my pocket—a rare occurrence these days. Curious, I quickly pulled it out, wondering who would be messaging me now.

From the Shelves of IE
Saturday, 7:45 PM

From the Shelves of IE
Reminder: Library Inventory Check

A friendly reminder that the library will be conducting an inventory check starting tomorrow. Please return any borrowed books, including The Bloody Rose by Patrick Flores, which was checked out in March.

The library is open daily from 7:00 AM to 11:00 PM.

Thank you!

Akari Heather
Typing...

"Who the heck is IE?" I muttered, frozen on the sidewalk as the light turned green.

My eyes widened in disbelief. How did Mrs. Theresa, the notoriously tech-challenged librarian, get my account name? The woman barely knew how to send a text, let alone use a messaging app.

I closed my eyes, trying to recall where I'd last seen the book. Should I just run away and hope she forgets? But that would be a terrible idea. Mrs. Theresa was known for her strictness and unwavering pursuit of overdue books. If I don't return the book, I might as well dig my own grave. A new copy wouldn't fool anyone. The library's mark and the book's pristine condition would give me away faster than a speeding bullet.

From the Shelves of IE
Saturday, 7:49 PM

Akari Heather
This is noted, Mrs. Theresa. I will be there tomorrow morning.

With a heavy heart, I turned off my phone and slipped it into the back pocket of my jagger pants. Maybe I already had a death wish, or perhaps my life had no purpose at all; that would explain the courage I found to reply so boldly. The truth was, I had lost the book months ago. As I stood there, droplets of rain began to fall on my face, resonating with my mood.

This was no coincidence. No, not at all. The heavy rain and the continuous rumble of thunder felt like a punishment from above for lying to a good person on campus just to save myself.

After battling the downpour, I finally lay down on the soft mattress in my room. With a contented heart, I closed my eyes, hoping to fall asleep, but the past haunted me like a relentless predator. A painful scream echoed in my head as I opened a familiar door. Sadness filled the room, and my heart grew heavy. Everyone was crying, hoping for a miracle, but even miracles seemed to have given up on them.

I was about to step inside when their heads turned toward me in unison. Anger flared in their eyes at the sight of me standing in the doorway, confusion written across my face as they hurled harsh words my way.

Were they just crying a moment ago?

The sudden shift in atmosphere left me breathless. My forehead creased as I realized what had just happened.

"Get out, you murderer!" the mother shouted, pointing her finger at me.

I slowly stepped back, only to crash into someone bustling around the area. "And kindly watch where you're going, Miss."

"I didn't mean to," I whispered, but he had already left the hallway, leaving me with a broken plea. "I am so sorry, but it wasn't my fault! Why does everyone hate me to the bone? Am I that sick in your eyes?"

"You don't belong here," a little girl said, whom I had failed to notice standing next to me. "You disgust us. Now you've taken my big sister away from me forever."

"No," my voice began to shake. "She died because of your family—because of our sick and cruel society!"

With heavy breaths, I glanced back at the room. Her father marched toward me, his eyes burning with anger. If looks could kill, I would be dead by now. I decided to close my eyes as a sign of surrender. This was not how it was supposed to end. However, our story had ended long before it ever started.

What a shame.

I waited for a minute or two, but it felt like no one stood before me. Had he changed his mind about throwing tantrums at me? I doubted it. Her family preferred a life-for-a-life situation rather than letting me escape. They hadn't been cruel from the beginning, but society had inflicted some kind of virus that twisted their minds into believing I had no place here.

The moment I opened my eyes, I found myself back in my room, tears streaming down my face. Damn, that was the exact scenario that had haunted me for a year now. It felt as though she didn't want me to move forward in life. It felt like they wanted me gone—for good this time.

But who were those people in my dream, anyway?

"Madison. . ." I whispered, a pang of unfamiliar sorrow piercing my heart.

Confusion clouded my mind as I wiped away the tears. This nightmare seemed to hold a hidden meaning, but my weary mind couldn't decipher it. Could it be a glimpse into a past life, a haunting memory of a life lost? Fuck.

I inhaled deeply, bracing myself for the challenge ahead. The fate of my academic career rested on finding that elusive book, or else I'd face the wrath of Mrs. Theresa, a creature more terrifying than any mythical beast. Maybe running away was the smarter choice. After all, who wants to be eaten alive?

Tweet your thoughts and use #ITLifetime on Instagram, Facebook, or TikTok.