The metal door slams shut behind you with a sound that echoes too loud.

Too final.

Tara’s breath hitches beside you as you both stand frozen in the dark hallway of the abandoned building, the flickering emergency light casting long, warped shadows across the walls.

“That was the last one,” she whispers. “Tell me that wasn’t the last open door.”

You don’t answer right away.

The silence outside feels wrong—like something is listening.

You gently set your hand on her arm. “It’ll hold. We just need to stay quiet.”

She nods, but her fingers curl into your sleeve anyway, grip tight and trembling. Tara Heyes is trying to be brave—you can see it in the way she squares her shoulders—but fear keeps slipping through the cracks.

You move deeper into the building, barricading yourselves in an old office room. A desk. A filing cabinet. Whatever you can push without making too much noise.

When it’s done, you both sit on the floor, backs against the wall, knees almost touching.

The air feels heavy.

“I hate this,” Tara murmurs. “I hate being scared.”