Trapped By The Phantom: His Little Lamb

My new strategy was simple: become invisible. If I wasn't in class, I was hiding. And the best place to hide on a college campus was the library.

Not the main floor, where students gathered to socialize and pretend to study. I went deep into the bowels of the building, to the Rare Books Room. It was a dusty, forgotten corner of the library, filled with old encyclopedias and manuscripts that no one ever looked at. The air smelled like old paper and leather. It was quiet. It was safe.

I spent three days there, tucked away in a corner carrel, reading ahead for my classes. I avoided the dining hall, living off granola bars I kept in my backpack. I timed my returns to the dorm so I would only be there when Hannah was asleep.

It was working. I was off the radar. Dean hadn't texted, and Hannah had stopped leaving me notes. I was finally a background character again.

On the fourth day, I was wandering the aisles, stretching my legs. The shelves were tall and cramped, blocking out the light from the overhead fixtures. I was alone. Or so I thought.

My foot kicked something solid. It skittered across the floor with a loud clatter, breaking the absolute silence. I jumped, my hand flying to my chest.

I looked down. Tucked between the bottom shelf and the baseboard was a small, black object. I bent down and picked it up. It was a phone. But not a smartphone. It was a cheap, plastic flip phone. A burner.

I turned it over in my hands, frowning. Who would leave a burner phone in the rare books room? It looked brand new, without a scratch on it. I should have taken it straight to the lost and found. That was the logical thing to do.

But a nagging curiosity itched at the back of my mind. I pressed the power button. The screen lit up, glowing an eerie green in the dim light. The battery was full. There was no contacts list, no call history. The only thing on the phone was a single text message.

The sender was listed as "Unknown."

I stared at the screen. Every instinct told me to put it down, to walk away. But my thumb moved on its own, clicking the center button to open the message.

"Hello, Little Lamb."

The words stared back at me, cold and mocking. Little Lamb. A sick feeling washed over me. This wasn't a lost phone. This was left here for a reason.

My thumb hovered over the power button, ready to turn it off and throw it in the trash. But before I could, the phone vibrated in my hand. Another message popped up.

"I was wondering when you'd find it."

My blood ran cold. The phone nearly slipped from my trembling fingers. This wasn't a prank. This was deliberate. Someone had planted this phone here, in my secret hiding spot, and waited for me to find it.

They knew where I was.

I snapped my head up, scanning the aisles. The shadows between the shelves seemed darker, deeper. The silence was no longer comforting; it was suffocating. I was completely alone, but I felt eyes on the back of my neck.

My first thought was Dean. He had warned me. He had said he would be watching. Was this his way of showing me he could find me anywhere?

A wave of anger cut through my fear. I pressed the button to reply, my fingers shaking. "Who is this?" I typed, hitting send.

The response was instant. Not a text this time. A picture message.

I opened it. The air left my lungs in a sharp gasp.

It was a photo of me. Taken from above. I was looking down at the phone in my hands, my face a mask of shock and confusion. The angle was high, looking down from the ceiling.

I slowly raised my eyes to the ceiling. There, directly above me, was a metal ventilation grate. It was dark, impossible to see inside. But I knew. Someone was up there. Someone was watching me right now.

A scream tore from my throat. I threw the phone as hard as I could. It hit the floor and shattered into pieces. I didn't look back. I ran.

I sprinted down the aisle, my footsteps echoing like gunshots in the quiet room. I burst through the heavy wooden doors and didn't stop until I was outside, in the bright afternoon sun. Students milled around, laughing and talking, completely unaware of the panic consuming me.

I ran all the way back to the dorm. I fumbled with the key, my hands shaking so badly I dropped it twice. Finally, I shoved the door open, threw myself inside, and locked it behind me.

I slid down the door, my back against the wood, and pulled my knees to my chest. I was gasping for air, my lungs burning. The room was empty. Hannah was in class. But the silence didn't feel safe anymore. It felt like a threat.

I looked around the room, my eyes darting from the closet to the space under the beds. Was there a camera in here too? Was I ever truly alone?

I had thought the main plot was the danger. I had thought Dean Gibbs was the monster I had to avoid. I was wrong. There was something else out there. Something hiding in the shadows. And it was hunting me.