Running.
I've been running for what feels like hours- feet pounding the pavement, lungs burning, but I can't stop. Because somewhere, some place, something, is behind me.
Car horns screaming, shoes slapping the concrete in rapid rhythm-mine, theirs…? I can't tell.
Why am I running? Who am I running from? Can I even stop?
Phones ringing. Fingers tapping on screens like a code I've kept on hearing, heard on while scrolling, texting, whilst also ignoring. Everythings moving too fast.
But I'm drifting, somewhere in between the present and… somewhere, something else. A place that hums just beneath reality-where time stretches thin, where every sound feels far away but sharp, like a whisper pressed against my ear. The world blurs at the edges. Faces pass by, but I can't seem to see them, or maybe… they aren't faces at all, some figures that my mind just concocts up. Everything feels off, like a dream stitched together that is so wrong.
And still, I run.
"Amara!" a voice rang out-sharp, cutting through the fog in her head that clouded her mind. She blinked. Once. Twice. Her body halted mid-step as her name echoed, oddly distant to her ears.
"Huh?" she muttered, disoriented, eyes flitting around her surroundings until they finally settled on the figure in front of her. A familiar face. Concerned. Brows pinched in worry.
"Casey?" Amara said, the name tasting foreign on her tongue.
They were in the hallway. School. The dull hum of chatter, tables, chairs slamming on textured floors, footsteps bouncing off the tiles-all came crashing back at once, like she'd surface from deep underwater. But something still clung to her, to Amara-something from that other place in the back of her mind. That not-quite-dream she couldn't explain. It tickled, unpleasantly tickled in the back of her mind.
"Why were you so lost in thought? What were you thinking so deeply about?" Casey asked, nudging Amara with her elbow. Her arms were full-books stacked haphazardly, loose papers barely held together by a worn folder, and brightly colored sticky notes poking out at odd angles, each one scribbled with subject codes, deadlines, and ominous reminders of the hellish finals week ahead.
Amara blinked slowly, the hallway noise buzzing back into her ears like a switch had been flipped.
"Dude, look alive," Acsey continued, adjusting her grip on her notes.
"Finals are literally right around the corner. You know we can't afford to space out now. A couple more months and we're out of here. Graduation, remember? We'll finally be free" her voice carried a strange mix of stress and excitement, like something or someone forcing herself to be upbeat before a storm. And yet, it hit Amara like a weight to the chest-May wasn't far, and with it came the end of everything familiar.
Soon they'd be thrown into the unknown-job hunting, meeting people who wouldn't care about their late-night rants or unfinished org tasks, and figuring out how to contribute to their families, maybe even support them.
"I know, Casey," Amara said, her tone flat.
"But honestly…I don't even feel like we're close to graduating. We still have the thesis defense, remember? What if the panel tears it apart? One bad comment and we're back to square one." Casey made a dramatic face, shivering exaggeratedly.
"Ugh, don't say that! You always go straight to worst-case scenarios. For a psych major, you seriously need to practice more self-talking or something" Casey jabbed a finger in Amara's direction, half-serious, half-teasing.
"We've come this far already. Don't lose your cool now." Amara managed a small shrug, her lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.
"Easier said than done."
The two continued their way up to the stairs, laughter and banter echoing softly between them as they climbed toward the fourth floor-their department floor. Around them, the usual sounds of campus life lingered: the dragging of footsteps, the hum of tired conversations, the occasional slamming of chairs or rustle of papers too crumpled to be useful.
The hallway buzzed with quiet tension. Students clustered in corners, some with eyes heavy from sleepless nights, others scrolling through their phones, hoping for last-minute salvation in a class group chat.
A few wore hopeful smiles-those who had already received their grades or passed a requirement. Most, however, clutched folders like lifelines, waiting their turn to be seen.
No one noticed the subtle unease growing in the air.
There were whispers, of course-articles circulating online about strange outbreaks in far off provinces. A tabloid headline spotted earlier that morning with the words "RABID BEHAVIOR?" scrawled in red. A shared post on social media flagged as misinformation, dismissed just as quickly as it appeared.
It was easy to scroll past. Easy to laugh it off.
Because what mattered-what always mattered-was the present. Grades. Deadlines. That one final requirement that could make or break the semester. Casey clutched their own folder even tighter.
"I swear if Miss Riva makes me rewrite one more reflection paper, I might actually lose it." Amara chuckled weakly beside her, her eyes flickering towards the end of the hall, where the psychology department loomed-familiar, yet now somehow colder.
They had no idea what was coming.
None of them did.