The walk through the halls feels quieter than usual.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe the usual buzz of voices, the lockers slamming, and the shuffle of feet all blur together because my thoughts are too loud.
But Justin notices.
He always does.
"Okay, what's with the face?" he asks as we move toward class, his tone light, teasing.
I blink up at him, forcing a small smile. "What, this face?" I motion toward myself. "This is just my natural charm."
Justin chuckles, shaking his head, but his gaze lingers, like he's still waiting for a real answer.
But I don't give him one.
We walk in silence for a few moments before he nudges my arm with his elbow. "Come on, Sarah. Spill. What's going on with you?"
The words stick in my throat.
I could tell him.
About the mirror. The lost time. The way my phone jumped forward 5 hours like I'd blinked and reality had skipped.
But I don't.
Instead, I test the waters.
"Do you ever wake up feeling like….time got away from you?"
It's a simple enough question. SOmething that shouldn't mean much.
But Justin pauses.
Just for a second too long.
It's quick, barely there—-but I see it.
His fingers tighten slightly around the strap of his backpack. His lips part, then press together like he's debating his answer.
Then—too smoothly—-he shrugs. "You mean, like, sleeping through your alarm? Or just the normal 'I have no idea where the last hour went' thing?"
The way he says it is casual. Forced.
A brush-off.
But his eyes tell a different story.
I open my mouth, about to push, but then—
"We need to talk."
Natalia.
Her voice slices through the space between us, sharp and deliberate.
I barely have time to register her before she steps in front of us, blocking my path.
Her eyes aren't on Justin.
They're locked on me.
For a second, Justin's whole body tenses beside me.
Not obviously—-not in a way anyone else would notice—but I feel it.
The shift. The restraint.
Like he's bracing himself.
Natalia barely glances at him. "Not you," she says, voice cool. "Just. Her."
A slow chill creeps down my spine.
I glance at Justin, but his expression is unreadable—his jaw clenched, his gaze flickering between me and Natalia.
"Sarah," Natalia says again, softer now, but no less insistent. "Please."
Something in her voice makes my stomach twist.
I don't trust Natalia. Not even a little. But I do believe her when she wants something.
And right now, she wants me to listen.
Justin steps slightly closer, his presence solid next to me. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it here."
Natalia finally looks at him, her green eyes flashing with something sharp. "No. I can't."
She doesn't elaborate. Just holds my gaze.
Waiting.
Something about the way she's looking at me—like I'm running out of time—makes my breath hitch.
I don't know why, but I nod.
Justin stiffens. "Sarah—"
"It's fine." I cut in, though I'm not sure I believe it. "I'll catch up with you."
His jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue. Not here.
Not now.
He just gives Natalia a long, unreadable look before turning away.
She doesn't wait for me to change my mind.
She just walks. And I follow.
We slip through a side door, stepping out into the crisp autumn air. The back of the school is quiet, empty except for the occasional distant sounds of cars passing by.
Natalia crosses her arms, watching me.
She doesn't smirk. Doesn't play coy.
And that's what unsettles me the most.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," she says finally.
I cross my arms to mimic her stance, tilting my head. "Right. And you do?"
Her jaw tightens.
I should walk away.
But I don't.
"Look, if this is some weird intimidation thing, it's not working," I say, forcing my voice to sound even. "You're gonna have to try harder."
Natalia exhales, but it's not frustration. It's something else.
"Sarah."
She says my name like it's a warning.
Like it's a plea.
"You won't see it coming until it's too late."
I go still.
The wind stirs the loose strands of her auburn hair. Her green eyes lock onto mine, unblinking.
And for the first time, I believe her.
But before I can press her—before I can demand answers—a sound cuts through the air.
A rustling.
A shift in the shadows near the edge of the school building.
Natalia hears it too.
Her head snaps toward the noise, body going rigid, muscles coiled like she's preparing for something.
For a second, neither of us move.
Then—a shadow shifts.
Someone's watching us.
My stomach drops.
And then—just as fast as it appeared—-it's gone.
Natalia curses under her breath, her hands curing into fists.
I take a shaky step back.
"What was that?" I whisper.
Natalia's breathing is uneven, her focus still on the space where the shadow had been.
Then, slowly, she looks at me.
And whatever is in her expression makes my blood run cold.
For the first time since I met Natalia, she looks scared.
"Natalia? What, who, was that?" my voice is still shaky.
Natalia stands there a moment too long, her hands clenched into fists.
"Just be careful," she says, quieter now. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into." A pause. "I won't warn you again."
And just like that, she's gone—turning before I can even respond.
I head back inside, pulse still unsteady. The hallway feels too loud now. Too normal. And I'm still left with more questions than answers.
I could ask Justin again. But would he really tell me the truth? Or just give me another one of his careful half-answers?
I round the corner—and freeze.
Justin's already at my locker.
"What did she say to you?" he asks casually, but there's something too careful about his tone. A thread of curiosity he doesn't bother hiding.
"Nothing important." I say, shrugging as I open my locker.
Liar.
He studies me. Then—-smirking—-"You're better at coming up with ideas for our project than you are at lying."
I force a laugh and bump his arm, trying to play it off. But Natalia's warning still echoes in my head. So does the memory of that shadow. That cold, creeping feeling that something was watching us.
Justin flashes me that same easy smile—-the one that usually makes me feel lighter.
And for a second, it works. The tension slips just a little.
But then I catch myself.
Why do I trust him so much? I don't know him…..not really. Just because he smiles like that—like he sees me—-doesn't mean he can be trusted.
I glance away.
And then—quietly—-he leans close. His voice barely above a whisper, warm against my ear.
"You don't need to be afraid of me, Sarah."
His breath brushes my skin, and suddenly I can't breathe.
The space between us disappears—-just for a second—but it's enough. My pulse stutters. The hallway noise fades. All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears and the quiet strength in his voice.
He's close enough for me to feel it—that quiet pull between us, slow and magnetic.
I want to believe him.
I want to lean into that warmth, to let it erase the weight pressing down on my chest.
But I can still feel that shadow lingering….like it followed me here.
And then—-before I can stop myself—-I take a step back.
"I'm not afraid of you," I say.
But my voice is too soft. Too uncertain.
He just smiles—calm, unreadable.
"Good. Come on," he says. "We're gonna be late."
His gaze lingers on me before he finally walks away.
I'm not sure either of us believes it.
I follow. But my thoughts stay behind, tangled in what almost happened.
And the part that scares me the most?
I'm not sure who I'm more afraid of—-
Whatever was watching us....
Or how easy it is to fall into him.
******
We slip into class just before the bell. I take my seat by the window, the hum of students settling in barely registering.
But something outside catches my eye.
At first, I think it's just movement—the wind brushing through the trees near the edge of the woods behind the school. But then I see it.
A figure.
Standing still. To still. Right where the trees begin.
My chest tightens.
The same figure that was watching Natalia and I.
I blink—once, twice.
Gone.
I sit back slowly, heart thudding, trying to convince myself it was nothing. Just a trick of the light. My reflection. A shadow.
But deep down, I know better.
*******
Sometime after lunch, I drift.
I don't mean to. One moment, I'm staring at the board, half-listening to the lesson. The next, I'm somewhere else.
Somewhere too quiet.
The forest.
It's always the forest.
But this time, the dream is brief—only flashes. That same figure. The whisper of my name.
But this time….
Pain.
A sharp, burning pressure on my wrist.
I jolt upright, breath caught in my throat. I'm still in class. Sort of.
Except it's not the same period anymore.
The room's different. The teacher's different. The light through the window has shifted.
How…?
I glance at the clock.
Two periods. Gone.
I rub my eyes, dizzy, but something cold stops me.
A mark.
Right on my wrist.
A faint outline—-like frostbite. A delicate, curling design that wasn't there this morning. That shouldn't be there at all.
My stomach lurches.
******
By the time I'm walking home, the sky is gray and heavy. The air carries a stillness I don't like.
I wrap my hand around my wrist, fingers brushing the mark. It's fading now, but not enough to forget it.
I round the corner and freeze.
There. Across the street.
The same figure.
Same build. Same stillness.
Watching me.
In daylight.
I blink—-and again, it's gone.
But the fear doesn't leave.
It stays coiled at the base of my spine, whispering truths I don't want to face.
Whatever's happening—it's not just in my head anymore.
Something, or someone, is following me.
And it's getting closer.
******
The house is too quiet when I get home.
Even with the TV murmuring downstairs in mom's room and the hum of the refrigerator kicking on in the kitchen, it feels….hollow. Like the walls are holding their breath.
I toss my bag in the corner of my room, toe off my shoes, and sit on the edge of my bed. The mark on my wrist is still there—-faint, like it's fading into my skin—--but every time I brush my fingers over it, it burns.
I lie back, starting at the ceiling.
I don't mean to fall asleep.
But I do.
*******
The forest waits.
Again.
I stand at its edge—-mist curling around my ankles, silver and cold, like it wants to pull me in. The trees stretch impossibly tall. Too still. Too silent.
This time, I don't walk forward.
I turn around.
And there it is.
Not the figure.
The pendant.
Hanging from a tree branch. SIlver and moon-shaped, just like before—--but now it glows. Not with light, but with something deeper. Memories.
And suddenly—
A flash. A burst of color. Not green, not blue—-something brighter, richer. Unnatural. Beautiful.
Stone spires rising above moss-covered hills.
Eyes. Not human.
My name—-spoken in a language I've never heard but somehow understand.
And then—-
Darkness.
I sit up with a gasp, the air in my room thick like smoke.
But I'm not alone.
Outside, through the thin curtain of my window, I see it.
The figure.
Not disappearing. Not melting into shadows.
Watching me.
Lit by the glow of the streetlamp. Motionless.
And then—-
It moves.
One slow step back. Another.
Deliberate. Controlled.
Never crossing the line into my yard.
Like it knows where it can and can't go.
I rise to my feet, drawn to the window.
My breath fogs the glass.
The figure tilts its head—-just slightly.
And then turns.
Walks away.
But as it disappears into the night, something lingers.
Not just fear.
A memory.
That glowing pendant. That ancient place.
That strange, impossible voice whispering my name.
Not safe.
I don't know how I know this.....
But it was real.
And whatever's watching me—--whatever's waiting—--I think it wants me to remember.