Christmas Eve fell on a weekend this year. Except for the senior class, the entire campus had emptied out for the holidays. That day, I watched the Dean’s profile picture in the school group chat turn pitch black. I watched my classmates die in front of me, one by one. I felt like I was dead, yet somehow, I was the only one still breathing. There was no peace on this Silent Night. Our prep school had become a living hell. 1 Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. “Who’s damn alarm is that? Turn it off, seriously!” Brock rolled over in his bunk, sat up, and shouted at us, his voice thick with sleep and aggression. “I didn’t set one, man. Kyle, is it yours?” Chase didn’t even look away from his gaming monitor, tapping furiously at his keyboard. “Not mine, Chase.” Kyle flashed a sycophantic grin before turning a glare on me. “Why do you have an alarm set in the middle of the day? You woke up Brock. Turn it off, idiot.” “It’s almost three in the afternoon...” I whispered. “So what? If Brock wants to sleep, he sleeps. You got a problem with that?” Kyle kicked his chair back and stood up, puffing his chest out. I held up my phone with trembling hands. “No... no problem. It’s not... it’s not an alarm. It’s a notification from the Grade Group Chat. As soon as I opened it, the music started playing.” “You’re the only loser who actually pins the school chat. It’s the weekend, what could they possibly want?” Brock scoffed, pulling the duvet over his head. The noise broke Chase’s concentration. A massive GAME OVER flashed on his screen. He slammed his headset onto the desk. “Alright, alright. We’re all roommates here, let’s not kill each other. Liam, read the message. What’s so important?” I knew the drill. If I didn’t read it with the right tone, Chase would take his frustration over the lost match out on me. My arm, still throbbing under the scab of a fresh cigarette burn, shook as I lifted the phone. The account that posted the announcement had a Santa Claus avatar and the name Saint Nick. The subject line was five bold, blood-red words: CHRISTMAS EVE RULES OF CONDUCT Christmas trees are green, not red. If you see a red Christmas tree on campus, lower your head immediately. Do not look at the top of the tree. Candy found on the ground is not real candy. No matter how delicious it looks, do not eat it. Dining Hall Hours: All students must eat dinner between 6:00 PM and 7:00 PM. You must be back in your dorms by 9:00 PM. The only meat served is Roast Chicken. If the lunch lady serves you anything else, no matter how good it smells, ask for an exchange immediately. The only dessert is Pudding. Pudding does not speak. If your pudding speaks to you, eat it quickly. The Campus Store has Apples. These are not for sale. If you want to gain His favor, giving Him an Apple is never a mistake. If a Stocking appears by your bed, do not be afraid. A Long Stocking is a gift from Santa; keep it on you, but keep it hidden. If it is a Short Sock (Ankle Sock), find the Housemother immediately. He may already be watching you. The Housemother hates Christmas. If you see her wearing a Santa hat, she is not the real Housemother. Do not trust her. Lights out after midnight. If you need light, use a candle, though it carries its own risks. If you see Santa Claus on campus, stop, make eye contact, and smile while saying, “Merry Christmas!” When a Christmas Carol plays, freeze and close your eyes until the song ends. You may make a wish. Perhaps Santa is listening. Reindeer are Santa’s eyes. Remember, there are no live reindeer on campus. If a reindeer nuzzles your hand, run. No matter what happens, remember: There is no real Santa Claus. 2 I finished reading. The dorm room fell dead silent. “Who the hell posted this prank? Hacking the school chat? That’s psycho behavior.” Brock cursed, grabbing his phone, clearly awake now. “Probably some senior cracking under the pressure,” Chase said, unbothered. “But...” I stammered, “Only admins can post announcements. Dean Miller is the only admin.” A chill crawled up four spines simultaneously. Kyle suddenly pointed at his screen. “Guys, look! There are two admins now!” “It wasn’t Dean Miller who posted it!” “I clicked on the profile. It’s blank. No bio. Just... a background image that says: Welcome to Santa’s World in red letters.” Chase leaned in, intrigued. Then he scoffed. “It’s just a hacker script. Some edgy kid trying to scare people with bloody fonts.” Another notification pinged. Santa Claus has been removed from the group chat. “See? Dean Miller handled it. Just a prank. Childish.” Chase smirked, reaching for his headset again. Brock, now fully awake, looked at Chase. “Jump on a lobby with me?” “Wait... no, wait! Look!” Kyle screamed. “That Santa account... he’s back!” “The Dean...” I gasped. “Dean Miller’s profile picture just turned black.” A new message popped up. From Santa. “The admin didn’t seem to like Santa very much. That’s okay. I sent him to hell early.” An image loaded. It was Dean Miller. He was kneeling in a pool of dark liquid. A silver carving knife was buried in his chest. Written on the floor beside him, in blood, were the words: Merry Christmas. “To all the students in the chat: You don’t want to end up like this, do you?” “I am very reasonable. Just follow the rules.” “Welcome to Santa’s World.” “Let the festivities begin!” 3 “AHHHH!” Kyle threw his phone across the room. “Is... is that picture real?” “He killed the Dean! He actually killed him!” “Calm down! Everyone shut up!” Chase’s face was pale, but he tried to maintain his cool leader persona. “I’m calling the Dean’s office.” He dialed. His fingers were shaking. Beep... Beep... Beep... “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed does not exist...” “Does not exist...” I stood up so fast my chair screeched against the floor. “It’s real. He’s dead.” A single tear rolled down my cheek. I leaned against the wardrobe, my legs giving out. “Stop crying, you wuss! Use that useless brain of yours to think!” Brock’s voice was hoarse, masking his terror with anger. “Call 911! Call the cops!” Kyle yelled, scrambling for his phone. “No signal,” Chase said, staring at his bars. “I checked the hallway. The guys next door saw the message too.” “Someone from the track team tried to make a run for the main gate. He said it’s locked. It’s pitch black outside the perimeter.” “Another kid tried to climb the wall. He threw a rock over to check the drop... he never heard it hit the ground.” Chase looked at us, his eyes dark. “The school is an island now. Nobody gets out.” He took a deep breath. “Follow the rules. Pray you get lucky.” I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I broke down sobbing. They thought I was crying out of fear. After all, I was the dorm’s punching bag. The coward. None of them knew. I wasn't crying because I was scared. I was crying because I was excited. 4 I came from a dead-end town in the middle of nowhere. Parents dead. Passed around by neighbors until my Uncle took me in. When I got the scholarship to the city prep school, the whole village came to see me off. “Liam, you’re a smart kid. A good kid,” the old mayor told me. “Make something of yourself.” I hugged him and promised I’d pay everyone back one day. My Aunt and Uncle couldn't have kids. They treated me like their own. Even when business was bad, they made sure I had the best textbooks, the best uniform. “We can’t let you look less than those city kids,” my Aunt would say, smoothing my collar. I studied until my eyes bled. I got into the most prestigious private high school in the state. I chose to live on campus to save them money. I applied for every grant, every meal voucher. The day I left, my Aunt packed two huge bags for me. “Don’t save money on food, okay? Take care of yourself.” She choked up. Uncle wrapped his arm around her. “Liam’s a tank. He’s going to the Ivy League. He’s our pride and joy.” I held back my tears. I swore I’d get a high-paying job. I swore I’d buy them a big house. I walked through those iron gates full of hope. I didn't know I was walking into a slaughterhouse. 5 It started with Brock. Brock was a varsity athlete, a legacy admission. His dad donated a new wing to the library. He skipped class, partied, and treated the school like his playground. “Hey, Scholarship. I got practice. Do my history paper.” “I know you’re broke. Here, catch.” He’d throw a crumpled ten-dollar bill at my face. “Idiot tax. Don’t thank me. Just make the handwriting look like mine.” I thought of my Uncle bowing to customers. I thought of my Aunt’s rough hands. “...Okay.” I swallowed my pride. Then, Brock demanded I help him cheat on finals. “There are cameras! If we get caught, I lose my scholarship!” I pleaded. “Relax. Dean Miller is on my dad’s payroll. He won’t do a thing.” Brock smirked. I realized then that the system was rigged. The Dean and the bullies were on the same team. “Just do it. Or do you want your Aunt to find out you got expelled for ‘stealing’?” I had no choice. I thought that was the bottom. I didn't know that once you open the door to evil, it floods in until you drown.
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