The morning sun filtered in through a hazy sky, casting long, pale streaks of light across the empty courtyard. Dew still clung to the grass, and the faint chill in the air clung to my skin like a warning. I walked faster, my hoodie pulled tight around me, arms wrapped across my chest like I could shield myself from what I was about to do.
My footsteps echoed softly through the quiet corridors, each one a tiny act of rebellion.
The student council office loomed at the end of the hallway polished mahogany door, golden plaque gleaming like a warning sign. Pristine. Imposing. Always locked. Untouchable.
But not today.
The knob turned in my hand without resistance.
My breath hitched as I pushed the door open and stepped inside, letting it click shut quietly behind me. The stillness inside was sharp, unnatural. The air was laced with their scent expensive cologne, fresh paper, ink, and something darker. Heavier. Like secrets soaked into the walls.
Everything was immaculate. Desks aligned. Chairs perfectly pushed in. Not a file out of place.
Too perfect.
I moved quickly, adrenaline dulling the fear just enough to keep me going. I moved to the drawers first, easing them open, fingers brushing through papers schedules, activity reports, permission slips, financial records.
Then I found it.
Hidden between council budget reports and a disciplinary log thin sheets of paper folded neatly but haphazardly stuffed in a manila folder. I pulled one free. My name was written across the front in slanted, almost frantic handwriting. My heart stuttered. I reached for another. A different hand. Another confession. All addressed to me.
Dozens of them.
Each in a different style. Different ink. All raw and desperate.
My name was written over and over like a chant. Like a prayer.
I unfolded the one on top. My fingers trembled.
> Y/n,
I know this might scare you, but I can't help it. I see you everywhere. I dream about you every night. You're the only thing that makes sense to me anymore. I would burn the whole world if it meant you'd look at me. Just once.
--T.
I swallowed hard and grabbed another.
> Y/n,
Do you ever feel like you're being watched? Because I watch over you. Every day. I have to. You're too precious to be left alone. One day you'll understand.
--S.
My chest tightened.
I reached for another folder thicker, heavier and as I pulled it out, something slid free and hit the floor with a soft clack.
A flash drive.
My blood ran cold.
I bent down slowly, picked it up with two fingers, and looked around the room as if someone might step out of the shadows. The laptop sat on the council president's desk open. Waiting. I approached it, legs stiff with dread.
No password.
I plugged the drive in.
It loaded fast.
Hundreds of files. All with my name. Images. Audio. Video.
I clicked on the first one.
A photo of me in my dorm, sleeping.
Another me walking across campus, unaware.
Another in the hospital. The IV in my arm, my skin pale, unconscious.
I couldn't breathe.
A video loaded.
Static for a few seconds then my bedroom. Night vision. The camera zoomed in on me tossing in bed. Someone whispered behind the lens.
> "She's so beautiful when she dreams."
My stomach twisted.
Suddenly, voices echoed from the hall. Footsteps.
Panic surged through me.
I yanked the flash drive free, shoved it into my hoodie pocket, and dived beneath the desk. My breath came in shallow gasps as the door creaked open.
Laughter. Casual. Too casual.
Tsukishima's voice cut through the silence first low, sharp, like a blade against glass. "We have to act soon. She's slipping."
There was a pause, then Suna's voice followed, softer but laced with something darker. "She knows something. She was here… I can feel it."
A drawer slammed shut. Osamu cursed under his breath. "If she finds that flash drive, it's over."
"I'm done waiting," Atsumu snapped. His voice was tight, angry. "I don't care what the school says or what her parents do after. I want her. We all do. So why are we dancing around it?"
Oikawa gave a dry laugh cold, empty. "You're so impatient. But… you're not wrong. After what she tried to do to herself? That'll be the perfect excuse. Poor girl. Broken. Lost. She just needs… protection."
"Exactly," Semi chimed in. "We step in like heroes. The school won't question it. Her parents won't even care. They'll be too busy trying to cover up the scandal."
"She doesn't belong to them anyway," Bokuto said, voice lower than usual, serious. "She belongs with us. Only us."
"She's already ours," Kuroo said, and his voice was final. Quiet, but heavy with conviction. "She just doesn't realize it yet."
"Then it's time she did," Terushima added. "Time we remind her that she's not alone anymore. Not ever again."
"We'll be gentle," Oikawa said, almost mockingly. "She'll understand once she sees how far we're willing to go for her."
"Or she won't have a choice," Atsumu growled. "Either way, I'm done watching her from a distance."
There was a moment of silence like a collective breath being held and then the sound of footsteps shuffling toward the door.
"I'll check her dorm later," Kuroo murmured. "Make sure she's still there."
"Be careful," Semi warned. "We do this right. No mistakes. No mess."
I bit into the inside of my cheek, hard, the sharp sting grounding me. Metallic warmth bloomed across my tongue blood. I didn't dare move. Not even a breath too loud. One noise, one wrong shuffle, and they'd find me. They were just on the other side of the wall. Just feet away.
I had to get out.
I had to run.
I had to disappear before they realized what I knew, before they saw the flash drive wasn't where they left it, before they caught the scent of fear clinging to the air like smoke.
But I couldn't move.
Not yet.
My legs were locked in place, heart slamming against my ribs so hard I thought it might echo. I pressed myself further into the shadows, wedged between the cabinet and the cold wall, as if the room might swallow me whole and make me invisible.
Not until they left.
Not until the footsteps faded, and the air felt less like poison.
Not until I could breathe again.
Because right now right now, the air burned in my lungs, and every second dragged on like it might be my last.
The voices finally began to fade first as murmurs, then just footsteps. Slow, measured. The kind of footsteps that knew they were allowed to take their time.
I held my breath as I listened.
"Lock the door behind you," Kuroo's voice murmured. "We don't want anyone snooping around."
There was the faint jingle of keys. A metallic scrape.
Atsumu chuckled under his breath. "As if anyone'd dare."
"Still," Tsukishima muttered, "better safe than sorry."
Their footsteps retreated down the hallway, the sound echoing off the stone like fading thunder. One by one, they vanished. The click of expensive shoes. The rustle of jackets. A low laugh that lingered longer than it should have.
Then silence.
I stayed frozen for a full minute. Two. My fingers had gone numb from gripping the corner of the cabinet. My lungs burned from holding my breath so long, but I didn't trust the quiet yet.
Finally… I exhaled.
They were gone.
I was alone.
And I only had minutes before someone realized the flash drive wasn't where it was supposed to be before the calm shattered and the hunt began.
My hands trembled violently as I slid out from behind the cabinet, every nerve in my body still screaming in alert. The stale air felt thick and suffocating. There was no time to catch my breath not with the danger still lurking just beyond that door. My fingers fumbled clumsily with the flash drive, the small, cold device slick and slippery in my sweat-damp grip as I rushed to plug it back into the laptop's USB port.
The screen blinked to life immediately, casting a pale glow over my face. The familiar folders stared back at me taunting, accusing. Photos. Videos. Logs. Everything. Evidence of their obsession laid bare in pixelated shame.
I clicked open the folders, heart pounding harder with each image. There I was, exposed and vulnerable curled up in my bed like a secret they weren't meant to see, scrolling aimlessly on my phone in class, hooked up to IVs in the sterile hospital room. Images that should have never been taken, never existed. They felt like scars on my soul.
With shaking fingers, I selected every file each one a thread in their tangled web of control.
Delete.
The confirmation window popped up instantly:
"Are you sure you want to delete these files?"
Yes. God, yes. Please.
I slammed the cursor onto Yes without a second thought, desperate for this nightmare to vanish.
But then..-
Error: Access Denied. Files in use.
My stomach twisted in panic. What?
I tried again, faster this time, voice barely a whisper:
"No… no, no…"
Error: You do not have permission to perform this action.
My breath hitched. I dragged the files manually toward the trash bin, willing the computer to cooperate.
Again, the screen flashed red
Error: Operation Failed.
My fingers trembled harder, the flickering glow of the screen reflecting the chaos in my mind. How could they have locked me out like this? It was as if every one of those files was protected by an invisible wall one they had built specifically to keep me from erasing the truth.
I scrolled through the file properties, searching desperately for any clue, any backdoor. Permissions were set to "Admin Only." Of course. They had thought of everything. I wasn't just a victim... I was a prisoner inside their digital fortress.
Frustration surged through me, hot and raw. My breath hitched as tears welled up, blurring the text. How did it come to this? I just wanted to be free.
Then, a sudden thought. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way around this.
I scanned the desktop for any clues any hidden programs, command prompts, anything they might have left behind.
There it was.
A folder named "Backdoor_Admin" sat quietly, like a secret invitation.
My heart slammed in my chest. Could this be my only chance?
Hands shaking, I double-clicked the folder, fingers crossed, mind racing with hope and fear.
The folder opened, revealing a handful of scripts and text files with cryptic names "override," "access_grant," "master_key." I hesitated, swallowing hard. This wasn't just some casual admin folder; it was their hidden control panel, the core of their digital cage.
One file caught my eye: "Emergency_Clearance.txt." I clicked it open.
Inside was a string of commands, almost like instructions for a secret backdoor unlock. If I could follow them, maybe I could override their restrictions and delete everything. But the language was dense, a mess of code and technical jargon that twisted my brain.
I needed help. Or I needed more clues.
I glanced around the office again, eyes sharp now, scanning for anything they might've left behind a note, a book, a password scribbled somewhere in their arrogance.
My gaze landed on a bookshelf. It was filled with thick, leather-bound volumes manuals, logs, reports but one book looked out of place: a thin notebook, its cover worn and edges frayed. No title.
I pulled it down carefully, flipping it open.
Inside, messy handwriting sprawled across the pages passwords, user IDs, schedules. And at the back, a note, barely legible
"If you find this, you're closer than you think. The key isn't just code it's trust. Look where no one watches."
My heart hammered. What did that mean? "Look where no one watches"…
I glanced back at the laptop screen, then back to the room, mind racing to figure out the next move before they came back.
"…the pattern."
My fingers tightened around the notebook. "The pattern?" I whispered to myself. I flipped back a few pages, scanning the erratic scrawl for anything that resembled a pattern. Words were underlined, some circled. A few numbers repeated 3, 6, 12. Asterisks beside usernames. Arrows pointing from one name to another.
It wasn't just code it was an obsession laid out like a formula.
My heartbeat thudded loudly in my ears as I sat back at the laptop, plugging the flash drive in once more. The folder blinked open. I copied the command string from Emergency_Clearance.txt and dropped it into the terminal.
> EXECUTE // OVERRIDE_PROTOCOL / MASTER_KEY
I hit Enter.
For a second, nothing happened. Then-
ERROR: Access Denied. Clearance Not Verified.
My chest tightened. "No," I whispered. I tried again, this time tweaking the syntax. Another error. The terminal blinked a warning: Too many failed attempts. Auto-lock in 30 seconds.
My hands flew across the keyboard in panic, trying to abort the lock. Suddenly, a soft click echoed from the laptop.
The camera.
A faint whir. Then-
FLASH.
My breath caught. A bright white burst from the laptop camera. It had taken a picture.
I jerked back instinctively, nearly knocking over the chair.
Onscreen, a new text appeared in red
> FACIAL ID CONFIRMED: Y/N [LIVE ACCESS ENABLED]
I stared, paralyzed.
Another FLASH.
The screen blinked again, and a progress bar appeared:
> Uploading… 3%... 4%...
"No no no..-" I scrambled, trying to eject the flash drive. But it was stuck. Locked by software. My image the one just captured was now being uploaded to whatever hellish system they had set up.
Something was happening. Something worse.
And then I heard it.
The softest creak.
A floorboard just outside the office door.