Seven Days Trapped With My Enemy / Chapter 4: The Dog, the Door, and the Dark
Seven Days Trapped With My Enemy

Seven Days Trapped With My Enemy

Author: Christopher Bradshaw


Chapter 4: The Dog, the Door, and the Dark

"Will the student government attack us? You only saw them attack the teacher, right? They were surrounded by students but didn’t attack any of them," Ryan asked, a bit naively.

"If you really think that, I can’t help you. I’ll pack your things later. You go sleep in the student government’s office. When you die, I’ll come pick up your body," Derek snapped back.

Marcus thought for a moment. "Since the student government exists, it’s impossible they won’t act. I think there are two possibilities: One, they need a trigger—like someone offending them. Two, it’s not time yet."

"Not time yet?" Ryan asked.

I got what Marcus meant and explained, "It means maybe they don’t do anything for the first few days, but at the end, they’ll wipe us all out in one go."

"We’re screwed."

I patted Ryan’s shoulder to comfort him. "Don’t be so negative. It’s just seven days. Hang in there and it’ll be over."

Speaking of negativity, the most pessimistic is Ben. Lately, he’s been researching whether coffins should have flip-tops or sliding covers.

Derek chimed in, "Are there any touchscreen ones? Any recommendations?"

Marcus couldn’t help but laugh.

The laughter was the good kind—nervous, but real, and for a second the dread in the air lightened, just a little.

[Try your best to keep your roommates safe. It’s hard to survive alone.]

I suddenly realized how important that was.

If not for Marcus and the others, I might not survive a single day.

We all have to make it out of here alive.

After dinner, it was past eight, and we headed to the dorm.

For the first time, I found the darkness terrifying.

The campus, usually buzzing with late-night joggers and study groups, felt abandoned, the sodium streetlights flickering like they might just go out for good. I kept my hands jammed in my hoodie pocket, head down, moving fast.

"Someone saw a dog! Run!"

Up ahead, a girl shouted, and the crowd scattered in all directions.

We ran too, but I noticed Marcus hadn’t moved.

"Marcus, are you crazy? Why aren’t you running?" I yelled.

"You guys go ahead, I’ll watch from a distance… Fortune favors the bold. I need to gather more info… If anything happens to me, don’t hesitate."

"Bullshit! After all this, don’t you know us? If you die, the rest of us wouldn’t last a day! I’m staying too. If we die, we die together!"

After I said that, everyone in our dorm decided to stay. I didn’t expect that, and I was pretty moved.

This time, Ryan provided a key piece of info:

When he bought soda earlier, he saw the girl who now claimed to see a dog—she’d bought a sloppy joe.

"I watched her buy the sloppy joe with a blank face. I thought, she’s so small, but unexpectedly fierce."

Hearing that, Marcus suddenly shouted, "Run!"

I didn’t know why, but we all ran.

We sprinted back to the dorm like it was a fifty-meter dash and finally breathed easy.

We asked Marcus why he told us to run.

"People who see dogs can attract the student government."

As soon as he finished, it felt like the temperature dropped several degrees.

But not in a supernatural way—more like the feeling when you’re walking alone at night and hear footsteps behind you, heart racing in your throat.

"But in the cafeteria, why…" Ryan started.

"I don’t know yet."

Now we had two incomplete clues:

[People who see dogs will eat sloppy joes.]

[People who see dogs can attract the student government.]

Maybe, seeing a dog is also a trigger for the student government to attack.

"Forget it, let’s talk more tomorrow! Before 8 a.m., I’m not leaving the dorm even if I die! And neither are you! If anyone goes out, you’re going against me, Ryan!" Ben locked the door, leaned against it, and declared.

Honestly, no need to be so dramatic—none of us wanted to go out anyway.

With a private bathroom, we didn’t need to leave.

We stayed safe until after ten.

[After 11 p.m., there will be dorm inspections. Do not open the door for the inspectors.]

It was almost eleven.

I was nervous, and my roommates were all trying to act brave.

"Derek, can you stop playing games? It’s almost eleven, and the dorm inspection is coming."

We kept the lights on, even though it made our little room feel more like an interrogation cell than a safe haven. Nobody would admit it, but we were all clutching our phones, waiting for the minute hand to tick past midnight.

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