His Dangerous Touch

I kept my eyes forward, my expression unreadable, but my mind was already drifting, calculating the ROI of this trip, analyzing the architectural flaws of the buildings we were passing. It was just another day in the life of Alexander Mark.

We entered the administration building, the noise of the outside world instantly muffled by the heavy oak doors.

Mr. Miller led the way down a corridor lined with oil paintings of past principals, his footsteps echoing hurriedly against the marble floor.

"My office is just ahead," he said, his voice echoing slightly.

I didn't respond. I simply walked, my polished shoes clicking rhythmically on the floor. I was about to ask him to hurry up when a sound pierced the silence.

It wasn't loud. In fact, it was barely a whisper. But in the dead quiet of the hallway, it might as well have been a gunshot.

"My belly..."

I stopped walking.

Straining to listen more carefully, wondering if I was mistaken.

The voice sounded familiar.

Mr. Miller noticed I had stopped. He froze, turning back slowly, his face pale. "Mr. Alexander? Is everything alright? Is the temperature to your liking?"

I held up a hand, silencing him. I tilted my head, straining my ears. There it was again. A voice, weak, and muffled by wood and distance.

"It hurts so bad... Please help me."

My brow furrowed. The voice... It was hauntingly familiar. It stirred something in the back of my mind, a memory I couldn't quite place. It wasn't a voice I expected to hear in a place like this.

"I'm not here to sell myself, I promise you sir. I just want to save you and nothing else."

I turned sharply and stared at the principal. "I think there's someone in that room," I said, pointing toward the door where the voices were coming from.

Allysia had told me they had locked that girl in the storeroom. If Mr. Alexander ever found out there was a student corrupting the school's reputation, the donation would surely go down the drain. The thought made him break into a sweat, which he quickly wiped away.

Mr. Miller's face went from pale to ghostly white. His eyes widened in horror, and he took a step toward me, blocking my path to the door. "No, Mr. Alexander, you must be mistaken. That... that is the old storage room. It has been abandoned for years now. We store old books and broken furniture there. It's nothing but a junk room."

He laughed, a high-pitched, nervous sound that grated on my nerves. "The acoustics in these old buildings are terrible, you see. You're probably hearing echoes from the cafeteria down the hall, or perhaps students outside. There is no one... no one is there."

"He lied."

I nodded, about to walk away, not because I believed him but then I heard another sound coming from inside.

I stopped again when I noticed beads rolling out from under the door.

Came to a stop right close to my feet.

I bent down and picked one up between my fingers, studying it closely. It reminded me of someone, and suddenly it hit me.

"She's the one."

I whispered to myself.

I shoved the bead into my pocket without waiting or giving my security any orders, I lunged toward the door, with them rushing after me.

"Mr. Alexander, there's no one in there," the principal called out, but I was no longer in the state of mind to listen to another one of his lies.

"I ignored him completely."

When I reached the door, I found it locked. Without wasting time, I stepped back slightly, shifting my weight to my left leg against it. The door broke open instantly.

"CRACK."

My security team froze, their hands hovering over their weapons, unsure of the threat. Mr. Miller let out a small, squeaking whimper.

"I didn't look at them."

I stepped over the broken threshold, into the darkness of the storage room.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom. The room was cluttered with stacks of old books and broken chairs, shoved haphazardly against the walls. But in the center of the floor, there was a clearing.

"And there she was."

She was lying in the center of the floor unconscious, her body covered in blood.