Episode 2 - Flashback Continued

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Christian turns around. Slowly.

Not because he wants to — but because something in that whisper pulls at him, the way a hook pulls at flesh. His muscles tense on instinct, the same way they do in the ring right before a chair shot he knows he can’t dodge.

The hallway behind him is empty.

But it isn’t empty.

The air feels wrong. Heavy. Like someone just stepped out of sight a second too late.

A flickering light at the far end of the corridor buzzes, sputters, then steadies. The shadows on the walls stretch long and thin, bending in ways they shouldn’t.

Christian’s breath fogs in front of him.

The building isn’t cold enough for that.

He tightens his grip on the journal, knuckles whitening. The leather feels warm in his hand — warmer than it should be after sixteen years in a vent.

A soft scrape echoes down the hall.

Not a footstep.
Not quite.

More like… fabric brushing against the wall.

Christian’s pulse hammers in his ears. He forces himself to take a step forward, boots thudding against the tile.

“Who’s there.”

The silence that follows is too long. Too deliberate.

Then—

A whisper, closer this time. Right behind his left ear.

“You came back to us.”

Christian spins, heart slamming against his ribs.

Nothing.

Just the empty dormitory hallway, peeling paint, and the faint smell of mildew.

But the journal in his hand vibrates — just once, like something inside it shifted.

Christian looks down.

A page he doesn’t remember turning is now open.

A page he doesn’t remember writing.

The date at the top:

02/04/10

The day after his final entry.

The day he disappeared from Briar Creek.

The day no one ever explained.

His stomach drops.

The handwriting on the page isn’t shaky or childish.

It’s confident.

Almost elegant.

And it says:

“You were always going to return.”

Christian’s throat tightens.

Because he knows — absolutely knows — he didn’t write that.

And yet…

It looks exactly like his handwriting.