The handle turned.
The sound was soft—too soft for the pounding in my ears—but I felt it more than I heard it. A faint tremor in the metal frame, a slow click-click like bones flexing.
The door cracked open. Just enough for the air to change. The hallway beyond looked wrong—darker than it should have been, as if the light there had been drained.
A man stepped into the gap.
He didn't fill the room with shouting or demands. He didn't even speak. He just stood there for a moment, head tilting slightly, eyes locked on us. Tall. Broad across the shoulders. Movements heavy but unhurried, as if he'd already decided we weren't going anywhere.
Alexei shrank against the wall, knees pulled up, breath coming in tiny, ragged sips. His fingers clutched at the blanket like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
The man moved. Three slow steps, each one thudding against the floorboards like a heartbeat. He bent and gripped Alexei by the collar. The sound of fabric tightening around his throat made my stomach turn. Alexei gave a small, broken sound—part gasp, part whimper—as he was yanked upright.
I lunged forward before I had time to think. My hands barely brushed the man's arm before something slammed into my back.
A second man.
I hadn't even heard him come in. His hand clamped around my neck—fingers thick and unyielding, the kind of grip that didn't just hold, but promised to break if you resisted. The pressure made every breath shallow and sharp, my chest tightening.
Alexei's eyes met mine, wide and wet. His mouth opened—maybe to beg, maybe to scream—but the first man didn't give him the chance. He started dragging him toward the door, boots scraping against the warped floor.
The second man shoved me forward hard enough that I stumbled. My shoulder caught the frame of the door, pain shooting down my arm. No pause. No hesitation. They herded me out like cattle.
The hallway was silent except for the heavy steps behind us. The dorm's usual groans and whispers were gone, as if the whole building was holding its breath.
We passed the common room. The TV still flickered faintly, but the sound was gone. No voices. No doors opening.
Nobody came out.
Nobody even looked.
The farther we went, the colder the air grew. The hall lights overhead hummed weakly, buzzing in and out, shadows stretching long across the peeling linoleum.
At the very end of the hall stood a door I'd never seen open before. No number. No sign. Just flaking white paint and a brass knob dulled to brown.
The first man stopped in front of it, still gripping Alexei like he weighed nothing. He reached for the knob.
A metallic clink broke the silence. Not a normal turn—something sliding inside the mechanism first, like another lock deeper in the door.
The knob turned.
Cold air spilled out, sharp and damp, carrying the heavy scent of rust and something faintly sour that curled at the edges of my stomach.
The space beyond was pitch black.
The hands on our backs shoved hard. My foot caught on the threshold, and for a second I pitched forward into nothing. The darkness swallowed me before I could see where I was falling.
The door slammed behind us.
The lock turned once. Twice.
And the sound of boots on the other side faded away, leaving only the dark.
And our breathing.
Too fast. Too loud.