You are a Junior at Blossom Dale High School. Your name is Charles.

Today at lunch Christie handed you a note, pressed her finger to her lips and gave you a wink. "After school. Room 413 in the abandoned hallway. Come alone. Tell no one," it read. You looked up at her confused but she shook her head and refused to talk about it.

You look down at the note and up at the dark hall. The floor is barricaded by six large trashcans but you easily push one out of the way and move past it, pushing it back into place behind you. This hallway hasn't been in use for at least a decade; but it was more than abandoned, it was also off-limits. It would be big trouble if you were caught trespassing in this area.

You give a careful look back over your shoulder and move down the hall, keeping an eye on the numbers painted above the doors. 407, 409, 411, 413. You stand briefly in front of the door. There are no lights on inside. Tentatively you reach for the handle and push open the door.

The room is being used to store old desks and chairs, there are several stacks of desks and chairs throughout the room. There are five people in the room, standing around or sitting on desks and chairs. They are four students and a teacher, the students are an enemy, a friend and a couple who are neither; all are surprised to see you. You smile nervously, arching your eyebrows up and giving an uncomfortable sort of wave.

There's something palpably creepy in the air, a sense that you are intruding on something very secretive. No one speaks for a long while, just staring at you as though willing you to turn around and leave.

"Close the door," the teacher, Dr. Verruckt says with a quiet urgency; breaking the silence. He is a thin older brunette man in his mid-forties with a receding hairline and a thinly shaved beard. "Quickly now," he says. "And quietly."