Your literature teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, wanted to see you before class this morning to talk about your essay. When you got to the third floor of the school, you saw no one around.

“Miss Jenkins?”

As you walked down the quiet hallways, you looked through the windowed doors into some classrooms. Then you saw him.

The devil himself.

Damon Torrance.

You had never been on Damon’s radar before. You were just someone. Anybody, but now he saw you.

His black eyes were fixed on you like a hungry predator who had found his prey.