Hunter Thomas Singleton:

"Azalea!" I screamed, shaking her in my arms. "Azalea!" I rose my head frantically, eyes darting around the dim classroom before returning my gaze to Azalea, whose body lay limp and lifeless in my arms.

"Come on, Azalea," I begged. "Please wake up."

The lights above me rained down a shimmering artifice as shadows huddled just beyond the dull glow, filling the surrounding corners and crevices with waves of darkness. As I shuddered, kneeling on the floor, I felt a single breath escape Azalea's lips and brush across my shoulders.

I gasped, my heart thumping in wild beats as slowly, her eyelids began to twitch. Tenuous gulps of air filling her lungs, she finally forced a single eye open.

"Azalea," I exhaled with relief, hugging her tightly against me.

"Hunter," she said, her voice weak and hoarse. "Hunter, I just had the scariest dream."

"It's okay, Azalea," I whispered. "You're safe now."

"No, Hunter," she shook her head. "White Robe is still out there."

"I won't let him hurt you, Azalea," I tried. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Her eyes fell. "It doesn't matter, Hunter," she said lowly. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"...Azalea, what do you mean?"

She hesitated. "In my dream, Hunter, you were there. You told me I was beautiful...that I was...perfect."

"It's true," I spouted. "All of it! You are beautiful, Azalea."

"But the one thing you didn't say," she continued softly. "The one thing you didn't say is that you loved me."

I froze.

"Hunter, I was so scared," she breathed frantically. "When you went to Callista's party, I was so scared. Scared that she was going to take you in, that you were going to like it. That you were going to love it...and love her! But more than that, I was scared that you wouldn't love me—that you never had at all."

"Azalea, no, of course not—"

"Hunter, please, I have to know," she whispered. "...Do you love me?"

I embraced her tightly, pulled her close to my chest. "Yes, Azalea. Of course I love you."

She exhaled. "Then nothing else matters." Her eyelids fell shut, and her body grew heavy in my arms.

"Azalea, no!" I screamed. "Azalea, you can't give up—not now!"

CLICK!

I spun around, jolted at the noise of the door as its knob twisted and the woodframe opened. A sliver of light fell through the crack, streaking across my face, and I squinted at the figure who stood at the entrance to the room.

"...Hannah?" I loosened my grip on Azalea. "Where's Alex?"

She sniffled, swiped at her eyes as she headed inside from the hallway. "Lace Face got him," she quivered. "I ran for help as fast as I could, but I couldn't find you anywhere." Tears began building above her cheeks. "Hunter, what if we're too late? What if she kills Alex?"

"Hannah, we can't think like that," I said. "Come on. Let's get Azalea somewhere safe. Then we can go look for Alex."

Hannah nodded slowly.

I slid my arms around Azalea's shoulders and lower back, tightening my grip around her body and preparing to lift when—

CLICK!

I gasped. "Hannah, did you hear that?"

CLICK!

"Oh, no," she squeaked. "It's White Robe—he's coming for us!"

I released my grip on Azalea, left her lying on the floor, then sprang to my feet and sprinted over to the shining gray instructor desk at the front of the classroom. I ripped open the topmost drawer and starting shuffling through it.

Come on, my brain whirred as I hurled aside loose-leaf pages and study-abroad fliers. There's gotta be something we can use...a stapler, a pen—anything!

"Hunter..." Hannah quivered from across the room, "I'm so scared."

I ripped open the bottom drawer, the crash of the metal echoing through the desk's edge. Inside the drawer, the silvery head of a long wooden hammer glinted under the fingers of light that reached it. I gripped its handle in under a second, then I hopped over the desk and rushed to where Hannah stood by the door. "Stay close to me," I warned in a whisper before swiveling my head around the room again, sweeping both the illuminated center and the shadowed edges that—Huh?

"Hannah," I puzzled, "is that...another door?" As I squinted at the shadows along the wall to the left of where she and I stood, I noticed for the first time the outline of a metallic lock and the frame that surrounded it. No more than ten feet away, the room's auxiliary exit stood shrouded in thick shadows.

CLICK!

The doorknob to the right of us began to twist again. Peeking sideways through the square-framed glass situated in the wood, I spotted the pointed shadow of a white hood as the door began creaking open.

"That's him," I whispered, then turned to face Hannah briefly before hesitating where I stood. My eyes flew to the middle of the room, where Azalea still lay unconscious on the wooded floor. I tightened my grip around the hammer in my hand, zeroing in from the shadows on the figure robed in white as he took his first lumbering step inside the—

CLICK!

The unlatching of another lock—the second door?—snapped through the air just as I'd steeled myself to strike, and a storm of swift, clacking strides came flying out of the darkness. I gasped, swirling backwards just as a sharp stiletto heel hurtled into the side of my thigh.

The flaring burst of pain screamed through my leg, and I swung the hammer, but another sharp kick slammed into the bend of my knee. Toppling to the floor, I gasped as a high-heeled blow to my throat knocked me on my back.

Eyes blurring as my windpipe screamed, I looked up to see Lace Face standing above me. A jagged bronze key dangled from the edge of her left index finger, and she gripped a long and pointed syringe in her right hand.

In an instant, she descended to the floor and circled a firm and wiry hand around my neck, her bronze key digging into my skin right before she stabbed me in the shoulder with the syringe.

Hannah gasped. "HUNTER, NO!"

The subtle haze in front of my eyes swelled into a heavy fog of bleary lights, my arms twitching to numbness as I trembled under the room's unforgiving, storming gloom.

Hannah bolted across the floor and lunged at Lace Face, but she grabbed both Hannah's arms and twisted the left one sharply behind her back. Hannah tried kicking backwards, but Lace Face deflected it with her own knee, then hurled Hannah to the ground beside me.

Stepping over the two of us, Lace Face strode forward to meet White Robe at the front of the room, stiletto heels clacking as she sashayed.

"Why are you doing this?" I heard Hannah beg, quivering with every word. "What have any of us ever done to you!?"

White Robe hesitated, exhaled deeply. "You still don't understand, do you?"

"Shut up, you psycho!" Hannah screamed. "I understand that you're a murderer, that you hate me and my friends and want to see us dead!"

"Hate you?" He stepped forward, leaving Lace Face at his heels. "I could never hate you."

"W—what?" Hannah gasped. "What the freak are you—!?"

"Hannah Ivory...it's me."

At that moment, it seemed as though time itself had stopped. Hannah was still on her knees, and I was swiftly approaching unconsciousness. White Robe's hand rose from his side, reaching upward like the arm of an undead corpse springing to life from its grave. His gloved, scraggly fingers rested on his hood for a moment, then in one swift motion, grasped it and cast it away.

The hood began to droop the moment it hit the floor, almost as if it were melting away—and with it, the disguise of the one who'd hidden beneath. I lifted my gaze, facing for the first time the man behind the pointed mask.

"No," I breathed, the last of the air in my lungs seeping out as darkness gushed over my eyes. "It's impossible."