Who's Jhoanna Ramirez?
The clubroom was unusually quiet that afternoon, save for the rhythmic tapping of keyboard and the occasional scratch of pen against paper. The room was bathed in the dim glow of their laptops and phones, the quiet hum of the ceiling fan the only background noise to their thoughts. It was just the three of them today—Aiah, Colet, and Maloi. The others were still in class, leaving the clubroom as their temporary refuge between lectures.
Colet, hunched over her laptop, was finishing up a coding assignment, her eyes flickering between lines of text on the screen. Maloi sat beside her, scribbling furiously in her notebook, an essay for one of her classes. Meanwhile, Aiah sat across from them, barely touching the book she had open in front of her. Instead, she was lost in thought, her chin resting against her hand as she stared blankly at the table.
She had barely gotten any sleep the night before. The librarian’s words haunted her, looping over and over again in her head like a broken record.
"Jhoanna Ramirez. That’s her name."
A real name. Not just a polaroid with a scratched-out ID. Not just an old yearbook photo. A full name that tied her to something real, something tangible. It should have been a breakthrough, but instead, it made Aiah feel like she had stepped even deeper into something she shouldn’t have. The librarian had hesitated before uttering that name, as if speaking it aloud was an invitation for something unseen, something forbidden. And the way she had looked at the yearbook, the heavy silence that followed—it was unsettling.
She sighed for what must have been the tenth time in the last few minutes.
Colet and Maloi exchanged glances before Maloi finally groaned. "Alright, spill.”
Aiah blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “What?”
“You’ve been sighing dramatically every thirty seconds,” Colet deadpanned, not even looking up from her screen. “Either you failed a test, got rejected by a crush, or you’ve been contemplating over something you don’t know if you should tell us.”
Aiah scowled. “That’s oddly specific.”
“Because I know you,” Colet shot back, typing without missing a beat.
Maloi leaned in, propping her chin on her palm. “So? What is it?”
Aiah hesitated. She wanted to tell them. She really did. But a part of her still clung to logic, to reason. If she told them everything—including the fact that she had seen Ramirez, spoken to her, a ghost with a smirk and sharp, knowing eyes—they’d think she had lost it. Hell, she barely believed it herself.
So, she settled for half of the truth.
“I talked to the librarian yesterday,” she started slowly, testing the weight of her words. “She saw the yearbook I was looking at and asked if I knew the girl.”
That made Colet and Maloi pause.
“She asked you?” Colet repeated, frowning. “Like, directly?”
“Yeah.” Aiah exhaled sharply. “It was weird. She just saw me looking at it and asked. Like she was expecting something.”
“That’s…” Maloi trailed off, exchanging glances with Colet.
“What did you say?” Colet urged her to continue.
“I told her no. But when she didn’t ask anymore and started leaving….” Aiah exhaled. “I asked her if she knew her.”
That got their attention. Colet paused her typing, and Maloi straightened in her seat.
“And?” Maloi pressed.
“At first, she didn’t say anything. Then....” Aiah swallowed, trying to push down the lingering unease. “She said the girl went missing… here.”
“In the school?” Colet asked.
“No.” Aiah’s fingers curled around the edge of the table. “In the library.”
A silence fell between them. Even the faint hum of Colet’s laptop felt louder in the stillness. Maloi exchanged a look with Colet before returning her gaze to Aiah.
“You’re serious?” Maloi asked, voice quieter now.
Aiah nodded. “She also told me the girl’s name.”
Colet raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Aiah took a breath. Then, carefully, deliberately, she said, “Jhoanna Ramirez.”
The name settled in the air, heavy, weighted with something they didn’t fully understand yet.
“Jhoanna Ramirez,” Maloi repeated slowly, as if testing how it felt in her mouth. “That’s—” She stopped, shaking her head. “So, she had a name all along, and yet there’s no record of her anywhere?”
Colet leaned back in her chair; arms crossed. “Maybe someone didn’t want people remembering her.”
Aiah didn’t tell them the rest—that Ramirez was still here, lurking around. That she had looked her in the eye and smirked like she was in on some cruel joke. Aiah kept that to herself.
For now.
Then, after a moment of silence of them mulling about the new information they've discovered.
“We have a name. That’s something. Now, we need to find anything we can on Jhoanna Ramirez.” Aiah finally said, breaking the silence.
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself before straightening in her seat. "Colet, go through the university database again, see if you could find anything."
"Got it." Colet nodded and immediately set to work, fingers flying across the keyboard. “If she was ever a student here, she had to leave something behind."
"Maloi, check every social media platform. She for sure had an account somewhere."
"On it," Maloi said, unlocking her phone again, already opening multiple platforms. "Even if her accounts were deleted, someone had to have mentioned her at some point. People don’t just exist in a vacuum."
The clubroom fell into focused silence, interrupted only by the furious clacking of Colet’s keyboard and the rhythmic swiping of Maloi’s thumb against her screen. Aiah leaned back, watching them work, her mind racing with possibilities, hoping that having a name would be enough to finally break through the wall of mystery surrounding the girl.
But minutes dragged into an hour. The atmosphere shifting from determination to frustration. Colet’s fingers slowed on the keyboard, her brows furrowing deeper with each failed search. Maloi’s phone screen reflected in her glasses as she scrolled endlessly, her lips pressed into a thin line, expression darkening with each dead end.
Then, Colet finally let out a sharp breath and slammed her laptop shut. "Nothing."
Aiah’s head snapped up. "What do you mean, nothing?"
"I mean exactly that—nothing. No student records. No enrollment history. No dorm assignments. No disciplinary records. Not even a freaking library borrowing log." Colet turned the screen toward them, showing the blank results. "She doesn’t exist, like she was never here"
Maloi let out a groan, tossing her phone onto the table. "Same here. No social media presence. No old posts. No tagged photos. No mentions from friends. Even if her accounts were deleted, there should still be traces—birthday messages, old comments, random mentions from people who knew her. But there’s absolutely nothing.”
Aiah’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “That’s impossible.”
A heavy silence settled between them.
Maloi ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. “People don’t just vanish like this. Even if someone deleted her records here at the university, wiping her from social media too? That’s a whole different level of erasure.”
Aiah’s mind raced. “Someone must have made sure of it. Someone powerful enough to bury every single trace of her."
“But why?” Colet asked, narrowing her eyes. “And how? You can’t just erase someone this completely. Even the dead have records. It’s not just inconvenient—it’s unnatural.”
Maloi shook her head. “Well, someone clearly pulled it off.”
Frustration simmered in the air, thick and suffocating. They had a name, a supposed identity—but no proof that Jhoanna Ramirez had ever walked these halls, attended classes, or even existed beyond whispers of a forgotten case.
Aiah drummed her fingers against the table, trying to suppress the unease creeping up her spine. If Ramirez had been erased this thoroughly, then whoever was behind it wasn’t just trying to cover something up.
They were making sure she was forgotten.
The weight of their failure pressed heavily on Aiah's shoulders. The clubroom felt smaller now, suffocating even, as she leaned back in her chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. No matter how much she tried to shake the feeling, the pit in her stomach only grew deeper.
Jhoanna Ramirez didn’t exist—at least, not on paper. But Aiah had seen her. Had spoken to her.
She exhaled sharply, her mind running through every shred of information they had. There had to be something they weren’t looking at. Something beyond student records, social media, and university databases.
Then it hit her.
Her body shot forward, making both Colet and Maloi flinched at the sudden movement.
“The journalism department,” Aiah muttered, her eyes gleaming with a newfound realization.
“What about it?” Colet asked, rubbing her temples.
“If she was a journalism student, she must’ve written something, right? Articles, opinion pieces, even class assignments. Maybe something got published.”
Maloi’s eyes widened, catching on quickly. “And even if her name was erased from the records, they can’t just make old publications disappear. Physical copies might still exist.”
Aiah nodded. “Exactly. We need to look through the student publications. See if any past articles have the name Jhoanna Ramirez—or even just ‘Ramirez’ or ‘J.R.’ as initials.”
Colet sighed, cracking her knuckles before flipping open her laptop again. “Alright, I’ll check the digital archives. If any articles were ever uploaded, they might still be buried somewhere.”
“I’ll go through the copies in the journalism department’s online catalog,” Maloi said. “There’s a record of every issue printed. If her name was on anything, it should be there.”
Aiah’s pulse quickened as she watched them work. This was the closest they had come to an actual lead. The silence in the room was thick with anticipation, broken only by the rapid typing of Colet’s fingers against the keyboard and Maloi’s muttered curses as she navigated the clunky university website.
Minutes stretched, the tension growing with every failed search result.
Then—
“Got something.” Colet’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.
Aiah and Maloi snapped their heads toward her.
“What is it?” Aiah asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Colet’s brows furrowed as she scrolled through a series of old articles. “No byline with ‘Jhoanna Ramirez,’ but I found a few opinion pieces written by someone just credited as ‘J.R.’ from about four years ago. It’s mostly investigative stuff. Controversial topics, university scandals—real exposé-type articles.”
Aiah’s stomach twisted. “What kind of scandals?”
Colet nodded. “It’s all about corruption. Backdoor dealings. Allegations of misconduct. There’s even one about student disappearances.”
The air in the clubroom turned ice cold.
Aiah swallowed hard. “What does it say?”
Colet’s fingers hesitated over the trackpad before she clicked open one of the articles. As the screen loaded, her expression darkened. “It’s talking about how students connected to certain high-profile figures in the university mysteriously left or transferred without a trace. Some were expelled, some just… vanished.”
Maloi let out a low whistle. “This isn’t just some schoolyard gossip. This is dangerous.”
Aiah felt her breath hitch. She didn’t need to say it aloud—they were all thinking the same thing.
Jhoanna Ramirez wasn’t just another missing student.
She had been digging into something big.
And now, she disappeared.
Maloi leaned back in her chair. “Who the hell were these high-profile figures? Does it say any names?”
Colet scrolled down, her eyes scanning the text rapidly. “No. The article only refers to them in vague terms—‘the council,’ ‘the benefactors,’ ‘those in power.’ It’s careful. Too careful.”
Aiah frowned. “Like she knew she was treading dangerous ground.”
Maloi clicked her tongue in irritation. “She was being cautious, but she still ended up disappearing. That means whoever she was investigating was watching her closely.”
A heavy silence settled over them, the weight of their discovery pressing down like a storm cloud ready to burst.
Then suddenly—
“What is that?”
The unexpected voice made all three of them jump violently. Colet yelped, Maloi cursed under her breath, and Aiah’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest. They spun around to see Gwen, Stacey, and Mikha standing by the door, eyebrows raised at their reactions.
Colet clutched her chest dramatically. “Are you trying to kill us?”
Maloi groaned. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”
Stacey smirked. “We literally walked through the door. You guys were just too busy being nerds to notice.”
Mikha crossed her arms. “So? What’s so interesting that you didn’t even hear us?”
Aiah exchanged glances with Colet and Maloi before sighing. “You guys better sit down. We have a lot to tell you.”
As they filled the others in, the clubroom, once tense with mystery, now carried an unsettling weight. A heaviness that settled in their bones as realization dawned on them.
Then, silence.
A sickening, suffocating silence.
Gwen tapped her fingers against the desk, brows furrowing. “This… this is serious. This isn’t just some ghost story or urban legend. This is real.”
Mikha shifted uncomfortably. “If she was looking into this and then disappeared… doesn’t that mean we’re putting ourselves in danger, too?”
No one answered. The thought had already crossed all their minds.
Stacey sighed, rubbing her temples. “We have to ask ourselves—do we really want to keep going?”
Maloi exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. “We were literally told to stop. Twice.”
Gwen bit her lip. “Maybe there’s a reason for that.”
Mikha let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, like ‘shut up or you’ll be next’ kinda reason.”
Colet groaned, slumping in her seat. “So what? We just drop it?”
Aiah clenched her fists. “I don’t know. But if we do, then what was the point of everything we’ve done so far?”
Another silence. This time, heavier.
They had started this out of curiosity. A mysterious box. A missing girl. A secret waiting to be uncovered.
But now?
Now, it felt like they were stepping into something far more dangerous than any of them had ever imagined.
---------
The clubroom was quieter than before, but the weight of their discovery still lingered. The members sat in a circle, their expressions a mixture of determination and unease. They had a name now. Jhoanna Ramirez. A real, tangible lead. And now, they had a plan to find out more.
Aiah leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk. “Now that we have a name, we can start asking around people who were here four years ago. Upperclassmen, alumni—anyone who might have known her.”
Maloi, ever the social butterfly, grinned. "I can do that. I know a lot of people, and I'm in the same department. If Jhoanna was a journalism student, there’s a chance some of my seniors might remember her."
Gwen smirked. “Flirting your way into information again?”
“Hey,” Maloi said with a wink, “if it works, it works.”
Aiah rolled her eyes but let it slide. "Good. Mikha, Sheena, Gwen—you three go with Maloi. The more people asking around, the better. Just… be subtle about it. We don’t know who might be watching."
Mikha scoffed. "Oh, yeah, because casually asking about a missing girl is totally not suspicious."
"Then be smart about it," Aiah shot back. "Say you're working on a project or something. Make something up.” She sighed. “Just… try not to draw attention. We’ve already been warned to stop looking into this.”
A heavy silence settled over the group at the reminder.
Sheena crossed her arms. "And what are you going to do?"
Aiah turned to Stacey and Colet. "We’ll head to the campus journalism club. If Jhoanna managed to get her articles published, there’s a good chance she was part of that club. They might have old records of past members. And even if they don’t, we can look through more of her work. There has to be something she wrote that explains why she disappeared."
Stacey hummed in thought. "So, we’re dealing with a missing student who dug too deep into university corruption, published anonymous exposés, and then mysteriously vanished? Sounds like a great thing to investigate if you want to go missing, too."
Colet snorted. "Too late to back out now."
Aiah frowned. "If you want to leave, Stacey, I won’t force you to stay."
Stacey sighed. "I never said I was leaving. Just pointing out that we’re walking straight into a storm."
Gwen rubbed her temples. "We’ve already been warned to stop looking into this. More than once. Doesn’t that say enough?"
Aiah clenched her fists. "It says that someone doesn’t want this story to come out. We’re already in this deep. We can’t stop now.”
Colet sighed. “Famous last words.”
Silence settled over the group again, but this time, it wasn’t the weight of fear that held them still. It was resolve.
Maloi stood up, stretching her arms. "Alright. We’ve got our assignments. Let’s not waste any more time. We’ll start asking around first things first tomorrow."
Aiah exhaled sharply and nodded. "Be careful. And if anyone gives you trouble or acts suspicious, tell me immediately."
As they stood, ready to move forward, No one said it aloud, but the tension in the air was undeniable.
Somewhere deep in their minds, each of them was thinking the same thing.
They were closer than ever to the truth.
And that terrified them.
-------
The next day arrived with an unsettling weight pressing down on them. The university felt different—colder, quieter, as if the air itself had stilled in anticipation of something they had yet to uncover. The soft rustling of leaves in the trees overhead did little to ease the creeping tension in their minds.
As they made their way toward the university garden, the group spoke in hushed tones, their voices barely carrying over the steady sound of their footsteps against the pavement.
"Maloi, do you actually have someone to talk to, or are we just wandering around hoping for a miracle?" Mikha asked, raising an eyebrow, her arms crossed.
"Yeah, and where exactly are we going?" Sheena added, adjusting the strap of her bag.
Maloi smirked, unfazed. "Relax, I have a contact. Fourth-year student, been around long enough to maybe know something. I messaged her this morning, told her it was for an ongoing research project. She agreed to meet us in the garden."
"And you're sure she’ll talk?" Gwen asked, her voice skeptical.
"If she doesn’t, we’ll just have to... persuade her," Maloi said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Mikha glanced at her. "Where did you even meet this person? You sound pretty confident."
Maloi shrugged. "We met at a writing contest last year. She was one of the finalists. We exchanged contacts, talked a bit after the competition. She's sharp, and she definitely keeps tabs on what's happening around campus. If anyone remembers something about Jhoanna Ramirez, it might be her."
The university garden was a place of serenity—a picturesque retreat nestled between old brick buildings with ivy creeping up their walls. Normally, it was a place of peace, where students sat under the shade of trees to read or chat in soft murmurs. But today, it felt different. Too quiet. Too still. As if even nature was holding its breath.
They spotted the fourth-year student sitting on a wooden bench beneath the shade of a towering acacia tree, her dark hair tied in a low ponytail, eyes fixed on her phone. As they approached, she straightened, her expression cautious.
"Hey, Maloi," the girl greeted, standing up. "What’s this about?"
Maloi flashed her usual easygoing smile. "Hey! Thanks for meeting us. This is Mikha, Sheena, and Gwen."
"Nice to meet you," Mikha said with a polite nod.
Sheena offered a small wave. "Thanks for taking the time."
"Yeah, really appreciate it," Gwen added with a slight smile.
The girl nodded slowly, her gaze flickering between them. "Alright. What exactly do you need?"
Gwen crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "Just some general history about the campus. We’re interested in past organizations, events, people who made an impact."
Mikha chimed in, keeping her voice casual. "Particularly students who were involved in journalism. Were there any notable names back then?"
The girl’s posture stiffened, her fingers tightening around her phone. "Journalism?" she echoed, her voice suddenly wary.
Maloi kept her tone light, but there was a sharpness to it now. "Yeah, students who wrote for the university paper, especially those who tackled sensitive topics. Did you know anyone who fit that description?"
The girl shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes darted around, as if checking whether anyone was listening in. "I mean… journalism students are always involved in things like that," she said cautiously. "Why?"
Sheena leaned forward slightly. "We just want to understand more about how things were back then. What kinds of things students were writing about."
At first, she seemed genuinely intrigued, her brows furrowing as if she was searching her memory. "Well, a few years ago, there were some pretty controversial articles published. You know, stuff that rubbed certain people the wrong way."
"Like who?" Gwen asked.
"The usual. Faculty, administration. Some stories pushed too far." The girl shrugged, but her expression grew more uncertain. "If this is about—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "Are you looking for a particular journalist?"
There was a pause. A moment where the air felt thicker, heavier.
Maloi exchanged a glance with the others before deciding to stop beating around the bush. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you know Jhoanna Ramirez?"
The reaction was immediate.
The girl went pale, her breath catching as her eyes widened in alarm. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, scanning the area around them as if expecting someone to be watching.
"I can’t help you," she said suddenly, her voice sharp with finality. She stood up so abruptly that her bag almost slipped off the bench.
Gwen frowned. "Why? What happened to her?"
"You don’t understand, you shouldn’t be looking into this." the girl hissed. "You need to stop—before it’s too late."
She grabbed her bag and walked away, her hurried steps kicking up loose gravel as she disappeared down the path, leaving Maloi and the others frozen in place. The only thing left behind was the chilling weight of her warning, sinking into their bones like an unspoken curse.
As the group stood there, rooted to the spot, an eerie silence settled over them.
Sheena exhaled, breaking the tension. "Okay, what the hell was that?"
Mikha rubbed her arms. "She freaked out the moment we mentioned Jhoanna. That was more than just discomfort—that was fear."
"She was genuinely terrified." Gwen's voice was quieter, her arms crossed tightly against herself.
Maloi scoffed, shaking her head. "And yet she didn't tell us why. Just some vague warning, as if that helps."
"Maybe it was supposed to help." Mikha looked at her. "Maybe she was trying to warn us for real."
A silence stretched between them again, heavier this time.
Then Sheena groaned. "So, what, are we supposed to just stop now? After everything?"
"Hell no." Maloi straightened. "If anything, that just makes me want to dig deeper."
Mikha sighed, but there was a small, knowing smirk on her face. "Of course it does. You live for this kind of stuff."
"And you don’t?" Maloi shot back.
Sheena rolled her eyes. "Great. We’re officially walking straight into some horror movie-level danger."
Gwen muttered under her breath, "Feels like we already have."
A nervous energy buzzed between them, unspoken but felt. No one dared say it out loud, but the thought clawed at each of their minds:
What have we gotten ourselves into?
----------
On the other side of the campus, the afternoon air hung heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts as Aiah, Stacey, and Colet walked toward the campus journalism clubroom. Their footsteps echoed along the hallway, the rhythmic sound mingling with the distant chatter of students, the occasional squeak of a shoe against the polished floor filling the spaces between their words.
“I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Stacey muttered, folding her arms tightly across her chest as if trying to shield herself from the weight of doubt pressing down on her.
“I mean, we’ve been warned multiple times. Doesn’t that say something?” Her voice was quieter this time, as though admitting her concern out loud made it more real.
Colet exhaled sharply, her fingers drumming against the strap of her bag. “Yeah, that we’re getting close to something people don’t want us to know.”
Aiah remained silent, her thoughts tangled in the memory of the ghostly girl in the library. Ramirez—Jhoanna Ramirez. The name sent shivers down her spine. The way the librarian hesitated, the way her voice carried the weight of something unspoken, the way Ramirez had smirked at her like she was playing a game Aiah didn't know the rules to. Was she really a ghost? Or was her mind fabricating something impossible? The logical part of her resisted believing it, but the evidence of her own senses whispered otherwise.
“We could just... stop,” Stacey suggested hesitantly, kicking at an invisible speck on the floor. “I mean, it’s not like we’re obligated to solve this. We’re not detectives, Aiah. We don’t have to keep digging if it means putting ourselves in trouble.”
“But can we?” Aiah finally spoke, her voice quiet but firm. “Can you really just forget all of this and pretend we don’t want to know?”
Silence stretched between them as they mulled over her words. The answer was obvious. None of them could turn away now.
The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before them, the fluorescent lights flickering every now and then, casting odd shadows on the walls. Their footsteps slowed as they neared their destination, and before they realized it, they were standing in front of the clubroom door. The sign above it read: The Sentinel—University of San Antonio’s Official Campus Publication.
The wooden door had scratches along its surface, signs of years of use, and a faded sticker near the handle that read, Truth Above All. There was a hum of an old air-conditioning unit seeping through the cracks, the faint scent of ink and paper already present even before they entered.
Aiah hesitated for just a moment before raising her hand and knocking.
The door creaked open almost immediately, revealing a tall figure with sharp eyes and an air of practiced authority. Geo Martinez, the Chief Editor of the publication, regarded them with mild surprise before recognition flashed across his face. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, ink stains visible on his fingertips, evidence of a long day spent working on articles.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the little detectives,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you three here. You working on another case?”
Aiah forced a smile. “Something like that.”
Geo stepped aside and gestured them in. “Come in. You’re lucky—I’m the only one here. The others are out covering the student council elections.”
The clubroom smelled of ink and old paper, a mix of history and late-night deadlines. The walls were lined with past publications, framed headlines showcasing major campus events. The desks were cluttered with stacks of paper, half-empty coffee cups, and pens left haphazardly between pages of notes. In the corner, an old coffee machine hummed softly, its glass pot half-filled with what looked like coffee that had been sitting there for hours. A whiteboard against the far wall was covered in scrawled notes and deadlines, a chaotic map of unfinished stories waiting to be told.
The windows were slightly fogged, the sun casting a dull glow through them, making the room feel somehow detached from the rest of the world. It was the organized chaos of a newsroom in its truest form—and yet, there was something oddly unsettling about the stillness that hung over it.
Geo seats down, and crossed his arms as the three of them took their seats. His expression shifted from playful to serious as he studied them. “Alright, you have my attention. What do you need?”
Aiah, Stacey, and Colet exchanged glances, silently agreeing to ease into the conversation. They knew better than to dive straight into something sensitive, especially when they weren’t sure where Geo stood.
“So, you’ve been a member of Sentinel for a while now, right?” Aiah started, keeping her tone light, casual.
Geo raised an eyebrow, leaning back on his chair. “Four years. Why?”
“We were just wondering,” Stacey added smoothly, “if you’ve ever come across any… strange stories during your time here. You know, things people don’t really talk about.”
Geo frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Strange? Like what?”
“Like disappearances,” Colet said, her fingers drumming lightly on her knee. “Or missing people?”
For a moment, Geo seemed genuinely confused. He let out a short chuckle. “This is a university. People drop out, transfer, take breaks. That’s not really mysterious.”
Aiah forced a smile, trying not to seem too eager. “True, but what about people who didn’t drop out? People who just… vanished?”
At that, Geo’s expression shifted, the amusement draining from his face as something more guarded took its place. He was silent for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk’s surface.
“What exactly are you asking?” he finally said, his voice lower, more measured.
The air in the clubroom suddenly felt heavier, the hum of the coffee machine in the background the only sound filling the silence. The walls, once cluttered with framed articles and pinned-up notes, now seemed to loom over them, the history of the campus journalism club watching their conversation unfold. Stacey swallowed, Colet adjusted her posture, and Aiah felt the growing weight of the conversation pressing down on her.
Geo’s eyes flicked between them, reading their hesitation. Then he leaned forward slightly. “You don’t just come here and ask something like that without a reason.” His gaze darkened. “How did you know?”
The room seemed to shrink, the posters and papers on the walls becoming background noise to the intensity of his stare. The three of them exchanged nervous glances, silently debating their next move.
Aiah exhaled and decided to tell the truth. “Someone left a box in front of our clubroom.”
Geo’s expression remained unreadable, but the way he stiffened didn’t escape Aiah’s notice. She saw the way his fingers curled against the desk, the way his jaw tensed just slightly.
“A box,” he echoed.
“Yeah,” Stacey said, forcing a nervous chuckle. “Not exactly a welcome gift.”
“What was in it?” Geo asked, his voice sharp now.
Aiah hesitated, measuring her words carefully. “Old newspaper clippings, articles, and a photograph.”
The silence that followed felt almost suffocating.
Geo’s fingers tapped restlessly against the desk, his gaze distant, as if he were seeing something none of them could. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, before he finally exhaled and spoke.
“Jhoanna Ramirez,” he murmured, the name heavy on his tongue. His voice carried something unreadable—regret, maybe, or something darker. “She was a freshman at the time. A brilliant writer. Too smart for her own good.”
Aiah, Stacey, and Colet remained still, their breaths quiet, hanging on to every word. Geo’s expression shifted, his brows pulling together as if he were sifting through memories he had long tried to bury.
“She had a way with words,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Sharp, precise, fearless. It was impressive… but also dangerous.” He rubbed his fingers together, as if trying to shake off the weight of his thoughts. “At first, the things she wrote about were harmless—petty campus issues, funding complaints, faculty bias. But then she started digging deeper. Too deep.”
Aiah felt a chill crawl up her spine. “What do you mean?”
Geo’s eyes flickered to her, then to the door, as if making sure no one else was listening. “She started investigating things that were meant to stay hidden,” he said, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Things people in power didn’t want exposed.”
Stacey shifted uncomfortably. “Like what?”
Geo hesitated, his fingers curling into a fist. “Corruption. Illegal activities. Deals made behind closed doors. I don’t know everything she uncovered, but she was relentless. Kept pushing, kept asking questions.” His jaw tightened. “And we tried to warn her. Told her to stop. That some things weren’t worth knowing.”
“But she didn’t listen,” Colet finished, her voice hollow.
Geo let out a bitter laugh. “No. She never did. Jhoanna thought she was untouchable. That if she had the truth, she had power.” He looked down, his voice turning grim. “And then one day, she was gone.”
A heavy silence fell upon them, the weight of his words sinking in. Aiah’s mind reeled. The pieces were coming together, but the picture they formed was something much more terrifying than she had imagined. Jhoanna had vanished in the middle of an investigation—an investigation that someone clearly didn’t want her completing.
“And just like that?” Stacey asked, her voice almost reluctant, as if she didn’t want to know the answer. “She disappeared?”
Geo nodded slowly. “One day, she was here. The next, she wasn’t. No warnings, no goodbyes. Just… gone.” He looked at them again, his stare intense. “And no one asked questions. No one was allowed to.”
The room was thick with silence, the weight of Geo’s words pressing down on them like an invisible force. Aiah, Stacey, and Colet exchanged uneasy glances, each of them wrestling with the implications of what they had just heard.
Finally, Aiah broke the silence. Her voice was quiet but firm. “Why aren’t there any records of Jhoanna anywhere? No mentions, no traces, nothing?”
Geo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice devoid of emotion, he said, “Because they made sure she remained forgotten.”
The way he said it, with such finality, sent a chill down Aiah’s spine. Stacey sucked in a breath, and Colet visibly tensed. They didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were. Whoever had the power to erase Jhoanna’s existence wasn’t just any ordinary group.
A tense silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. It felt as if the walls of the clubroom had closed in, as if they were speaking of something they had no right to even acknowledge.
After a few beats, Geo straightened up and exhaled sharply, as though shaking off the gravity of the moment. “If that’s all, I have classes to get to.” His tone had shifted—cooler, more detached, as if he wanted to put an end to the conversation before it could go any further.
Aiah, still unwilling to let go of the thread of information, hesitated before asking, “Do you still have any of her articles? Something that she wrote before she disappeared?”
Geo’s expression darkened. He hesitated, his fingers drumming against the desk. “That’s not something you should be looking for.”
Stacey leaned forward. “If she wrote about something dangerous, then it’s even more important that we find it.”
Colet nodded. “We need to know what she was onto. Maybe there’s something in her writing that explains what happened to her.”
Geo let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. If you find those articles, you can’t unsee what’s in them. You can’t undo whatever happens next.”
Aiah squared her shoulders. “We’re already in too deep.”
Geo was silent for a long moment, his eyes scanning each of their faces, searching for hesitation. When he found none, he let out a heavy sigh. For a moment, it seemed like he would refuse outright, but then his gaze flickered toward the back of the clubroom. He then gestured toward a door at the far end of the room.
“That’s where we keep the old published articles. Most of them have been archived or forgotten,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “You’ll find what you’re looking for in there.”
The three of them turned their heads toward the door. It was an unassuming thing, its paint slightly chipped, the handle worn with age. But there was something ominous about it now, knowing that behind it lay the words of a girl who had disappeared without a trace.
Geo’s eyes lingered on them for a moment longer. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered before standing up, effectively dismissing them. The wooden legs scraped against the floor, the grating sound cutting through the thick silence that had settled between them.
Aiah, Stacey, and Colet simply watched him, unmoving. Their eyes followed his every motion, as if expecting him to change his mind, to say something more. But Geo only strode toward the door, his movements deliberate, purposeful, as though he had already decided that this conversation was over.
His fingers wrapped around the handle, but just as he was about to turn it, he hesitated. A tense moment passed before he finally spoke—his voice quiet, yet heavy with something unmistakable: regret.
"Jhoanna was someone dear to me." His back remained turned to them, his voice barely above a murmur. "I tried to warn her before, but she didn’t listen."
Aiah felt her breath hitch. There was something deeply personal in the way he said it, something raw beneath the controlled tone of his voice. The weight of his words settled deep in her chest, but she couldn’t find it in herself to respond.
Slowly, Geo turned, his dark eyes locking onto them with an intensity that sent chills down their spines. The calm, detached expression he usually wore was gone, replaced by something hardened, something afraid.
“I don’t want the same thing to happen to any of you,” he said, his voice grave. “So, stop digging. Because once you’re in too deep, you’ll going to suffer the same fate.”
The finality in his words left no room for argument. It was a warning—one that carried the weight of experience, of regret, of something unspoken that lurked beneath his composed exterior.
Aiah swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Stacey stiffened beside her, her fingers gripping the fabric of her skirt, while Colet barely breathed, her hands clenched into fists over her lap.
Geo studied them for a moment longer, his eyes dark with something unreadable. Then, before they could say anything, before they could even begin to form the questions burning in their minds, he turned back to the door. The handle turned with a soft click, and then, without another word, he stepped out, the door swinging shut behind him with unsettling finality.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Stacey exhaled slowly, a shaky breath that barely made a sound. "Well… that wasn’t terrifying at all."
Colet let out a low, humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over her face. "That was more than a warning. That was a goddamn death sentence."
Aiah didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her mind was still replaying Geo’s words over and over again.
Suffer the same fate.
She wasn’t sure what scared her more—the warning itself, or the unshakable feeling that it was already too late to turn back.
----------
The silence in the clubroom was suffocating. Aiah, Stacey, and Colet were still frozen in place, Geo’s parting words weighing on them like a heavy shroud. None of them spoke, their thoughts tangled between fear, curiosity, and the unshakable feeling that they had just stepped into something far bigger than they could comprehend.
Then, suddenly—
A shrill ringing cut through the tense stillness.
All three of them jolted violently in their seats.
"Shit—!" Colet hissed, pressing a hand to her chest.
"Are you trying to give us a heart attack?" Stacey snapped, glaring at Aiah.
"It’s not my fault, okay?! It’s my phone!" Aiah shot back, though her own pulse was still racing.
Ignoring their complaints, she fumbled for her phone, her hands slightly unsteady. The screen glowed with an incoming call—Maloi.
She exhaled sharply and pressed the answer button. "Maloi?"
"Aiah!" Maloi’s voice crackled through the speaker. "We’re done talking to someone. Where are you guys?"
Aiah shot a glance at Stacey and Colet, who were both still recovering from the unexpected jump scare. Geo’s words lingered in her mind, but she pushed them aside. "We’re in Sentinel’s clubroom. Just come here, we’ll talk inside."
"Alright, we’re on our way." Maloi’s response was quick, and then the call ended with a soft beep.
Aiah lowered her phone, exhaling as she leaned back in her seat. Colet groaned, throwing her hands up. "Can we all agree to put phones on silent from now on? I think my soul just left my body."
Stacey scoffed, crossing her arms. "You think yours left? Mine did a full sprint into the afterlife."
"I think mine stayed behind just to haunt Aiah," Colet muttered, still rubbing at her chest.
Aiah let out a small chuckle despite herself, the tension in her chest loosening just slightly. "You guys are so dramatic."
"Says the one who answered the phone like it wasn’t the most terrifying sound in existence just now," Stacey quipped.
Aiah rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. The heaviness of Geo’s warning still loomed over them, but at least, for now, they could breathe.
Maloi and the others would be here soon. They would have more pieces of the puzzle.
But was this a puzzle they even wanted to solve?