Daytime at the hostel always carried a dull rhythm. The corridors smelled faintly of detergent mixed with the faint chalk-dust drifting out from classrooms. Students moved in clusters, laughing, whispering, sometimes rushing with books clutched to their chests. But Ellara was different. She always seemed to walk alone, head down, her black water bottle dangling loosely in her grip as if it were her only companion.
Every afternoon, almost like clockwork, she went to the cooler in the long hallway. She never missed it. She would take out her bottle, unscrew the cap slowly, press the button at the cooler, and wait as the thin stream of water trickled inside. The sound was so ordinary that no one ever noticed it—except for a few girls who had been watching her closely.
That day, as the water was filling up, the chatter of the hallway suddenly broke.
"Ellara!"
The voice was sharp, coming from behind her. Ellara's hand froze on the cooler button. She turned slightly, her brows furrowing. Riley was standing there, tilting her head with that usual smile that never quite reached her eyes.
"I think someone's calling you," Riley said, casually adjusting the strap of her bag.
Ellara blinked. Her lips curved downward. "Calling me? No one talks to me here. Who would call me now?"
Riley stepped closer, eyes darting toward the crowded corridor filled with moving students. "I'm a hundred percent sure someone just said your name."
Ellara's grip tightened on her bottle. "My… name?" she asked, suspicion dripping in her tone.
"Yes," Riley nodded quickly. "Let me show you who called you."
Her finger lifted, pointing into the corridor. Students passed by in groups—laughing, bumping shoulders, shoving each other playfully. To Ellara, they were just faceless bodies, blurred voices echoing against the walls.
Ellara bent slightly to catch Riley's gaze, her own eyes narrowing. "Which one?"
"That girl!" Riley insisted, stretching her arm further, finger trembling with fake urgency. "Can't you see? That girl!"
Ellara turned her head, squinting, trying to locate whoever Riley meant. Her mind ticked. The students looked normal—none seemed to even glance her way.
But while Ellara's focus was drawn away, something else was happening just behind her. Lemon, who had been silently standing close to the cooler, glanced around quickly. Her hand slid into her pocket, fingers brushing against a tiny capsule. She popped it open skillfully and let the white powder dissolve into her palm. With a movement so smooth it almost looked natural, she tilted her hand over Ellara's half-filled bottle. The powder fell, disappearing into the water with no trace. Lemon smirked faintly, screwing her expression back into blankness before anyone could notice.
Meanwhile, Riley tilted her head with a smile too sweet to be real. "They called you. Yeah, this one—she called you Jessica."
Ellara snapped her head back to Riley, frowning. "Jessica? My name is not Jessica."
Riley gasped, hand flying to her lips as if shocked. "Oh—you're not Jessica? Oh, I'm really sorry. I thought you were."
Her apology dripped with insincerity, but she didn't wait for Ellara to respond. She simply waved her hand in the air, turned on her heel, and walked away into the sea of students.
Ellara stood frozen for a second, watching Riley's retreating back. Something about it itched at her, like a mosquito bite she couldn't scratch. She pressed her lips together, closed her bottle with a sharp twist of the cap, and slipped it back into her bag. Without another word, she turned and walked back toward her room.
---
The night arrived with silence at first.
The hostel usually quieted down after dinner—distant laughter, muffled whispers, the sound of water running in bathrooms. But then, without warning, the shrill, piercing cry of the fire alarm shattered the calm.
RRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG!!!!
Students screamed, doors banged open, slippers slapped against the floor as dozens of feet rushed down the hallways. Shouts of "Fire! Fire!" echoed like a chant of panic.
Every student was ordered to gather toward the west wing, where smoke was already creeping under a doorway. The chaos was perfect.
Among the rushing crowd were six girls who had planned every detail. Scarlett, Riley, Hazel moved with the panicked flow toward the fire. But Lemon, Evelyn, and Autumn exchanged the slightest glance, and then, instead of following, they turned abruptly and slipped in the opposite direction, unnoticed in the chaos.
Their footsteps echoed down the stairwell as they descended into the 1st-year hallway. The air was cooler here, quiet compared to the madness upstairs. Most rooms were locked. But one door stood slightly ajar. Inside, under the faint glow of the emergency light, a girl lay fast asleep on her bed—Ellara.
Lemon approached first. She leaned down, her long hair falling like a curtain as she stared at the motionless face. Then, with two fingers, she slapped Ellara's cheek lightly.
"Wake up," she whispered.
Nothing.
Lemon's lips curled. She turned to Evelyn and Autumn. "Take her."
The two girls nodded. Evelyn grabbed Ellara by the shoulders while Autumn lifted her legs. The body was heavy, limp like a ragdoll. The drug had done its work—she didn't stir, didn't resist, not even when her head lolled sideways.
Together, the three girls hauled her out of the room, their breaths shallow from the effort. They moved quickly, their footsteps masked by the continued ringing of the fire alarm upstairs.
By the time they reached their own room on the upper floor, the chaos outside had begun to slow. Students gathered in the hallway near the fire, teachers shouting orders, everyone distracted by the smoke. No one noticed that one girl was missing. No one realized Ellara, who had no roommates, hadn't joined the crowd.
Inside the locked room, they tied her to a chair. Rope bit into her wrists, tightened around her ankles. Her head lolled forward, strands of hair falling over her face.
Moments later, the door creaked again. Scarlett, Riley, and Hazel stepped inside, shutting the door quickly behind them. Their eyes scanned the room, settling on Ellara tied to the chair.
Scarlett smirked, brushing her long hair back. "I thought we'd burn the whole hostel down."
Riley chuckled dryly. "I told Hazel to make the fire small. But she thought it would be fun."
Hazel grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. "What? I just wanted to make it dramatic."
Their laughter was low, almost sinister, filling the closed space. But then their attention shifted to the chair. To the girl tied up. To the dark figure that finally looked like prey.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The air was heavy, anticipation thickening like smoke.
Then, with deliberate calm, Lemon picked up a jug of water and flung it into Ellara's face.
The girl jerked violently, coughing, strands of wet hair sticking to her skin. Her eyes fluttered open, wide and confused. She blinked rapidly, trying to process the ropes, the faces staring at her, the strange room.
"Wha—" she tried to speak, but Lemon cut her off.
"Who are you?" Lemon's voice was sharp, commanding. "Tell us."
Ellara looked at her, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her lips. She said nothing.
Riley's hand cracked across her cheek with a loud slap. "Answer us!"
Ellara's head turned from the force, but when she looked back, she was still smiling—calm, almost amused.
Hazel frowned. "She's mocking us." She crossed her arms. "Let's just call the police on her."
For a second, silence hung in the room. The suggestion lingered.
Then, Ellara's voice broke it. Soft, but sharp enough to cut.
"Any proof?"
The girls stiffened. Lemon's head snapped back toward her. "What?!"
Ellara leaned back against the chair, her wet face glistening under the light. Her smile widened, dark and twisted. "Do you have any proof? Do you have a picture? A video? Anything that shows me doing the murders? Do you?"
The room went cold.
Lemon's lips parted, but no words came out. Finally, she admitted, "No…"
Ellara's laugh rang out, low and chilling. "Then what will you tell the police? Hm?" She leaned forward as much as the ropes allowed, her eyes gleaming. "Fine. I'll give you proof. I did all of it. I DID it." Her voice rose into a shout. "NOW WHAT? You'll kill me? Do it! I won't be screaming like them. I won't be the bitch that they were."
Her voice lowered again, trembling with deadly conviction. "I won't stop until I've killed the last one."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Lemon's hands shook. "L-Last one? What do you mean? You killed all six girls. Then who's left?"
Ellara's laugh was pure madness, echoing against the walls. She tilted her head, her eyes burning with something feral. "You're asking me?" She sneered. "I thought you'd know."
Lemon's throat went dry. "Who… who is he?"
Ellara's laugh deepened, colder, sharper, the kind that crawled into their bones. She whispered the name as though savoring it.
"Leon Hawthorne."