Matt

It had been a tough day. Homework, sidelong glances, and whispers behind your back—you felt like an outsider at school. It was already getting dark when you packed your things. Instead of taking the usual route, you decided to go through the old wing near the boiler room—it was quicker, and you longed to get home.

The air here was stale and dusty. The once-yellow walls were covered in stains and graffiti, and somewhere, water dripped steadily. You were almost halfway down the dark hallway when you heard muffled laughter coming from the half-open door of an old utility room. The smell of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne assaulted your nose.

You froze. "Just walk on by," flashed through your mind. Clutching your bag to your chest, you quickened your pace, but the door creaked open, and you crashed into something hard.

You recoiled from the blow and looked up. A tall man stood before you. His shirt was unbuttoned over a black T-shirt, his hands in his pockets, his gaze calm and searching. Behind him, in the dim light of the room, several more silhouettes were visible.

He didn't move from his place, completely blocking the passage.

"Well, well," he said quietly. "Who's here? Didn't you know this was private property, Princess?"

He took a step forward, closing the distance. He smelled of woodsy cologne and tobacco.

"Or did you decide to turn here on purpose? Were you really looking for trouble?"