By the time I Maria and Yara left, the air in my room felt... wrong.
Everything looked normal. My bed was made. My lamp still leaned sideways the way it always did. But there was this feeling—like someone had been here, standing exactly where I was standing now.
And then I saw it.
A folded slip of paper, sitting on my pillow.
The same pale gray, with the same scratchy handwriting I'd seen in my dreams.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I picked it up. I unfolded it slowly, already knowing it would be awful.
But what I didn't expect—what made my throat close up—was the name written across the top.
Maria.
Not me.
The note wasn't meant for me.
I didn't even want to read the rest. But I did.
"She's seen too much. Keep your mouth shut—or watch her disappear.″
I dropped the paper like it burned. My mind reeled. Why her? Why now?
Because I told them.
Because I involved them.
And now the shadows were coming for them, too.
I was nervous about going to school. No—scratch that. I was terrified.
The kind of terror that knots your stomach and makes your skin feel too tight. That low, buzzing hum under your ribs that doesn't go away, no matter how deep you breathe.
Because I didn't know what I was walking into.
After that note—Maria's name, that threat—I hadn't slept. Not really. I just lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the ways she might already be gone. Thinking about what I'd do if I got to school and her desk was empty. If her name got called during roll and no one answered. If Yara looked at me with that look that says, you did this.
I tried not to think about that. But my brain wouldn't shut up. It wouldn't stop replaying the moment I unfolded that note, the way the ink looked scratched in, like it had been carved instead of written.
She's seen too much.
Keep your mouth shut—or watch her disappear.
I kept seeing those words when I blinked. Like someone had written them on the inside of my eyelids.
So yeah. Walking into school felt like walking into a trap I'd set myself.
My heart was in my throat the whole way to first period. I scanned every hallway, every face. No sign of her. My fingers were ice. I kept looking over my shoulder like the shadows were trailing behind me—because maybe they were.
I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until I saw her.
Maria. At her locker. Alive.
She looked... off. Like a washed-out version of herself. Her hair was pulled back but messier than usual, and her shirt was inside out—something Maria would never let happen, not even on her worst day. And she was staring into her locker like it held all the answers to the universe and none of them were good.
I almost collapsed from relief.
But the second she turned and saw me, something in my chest twisted. Her eyes looked different. Distant. Not angry, not scared—just... blank. Like she hadn't slept. Like she couldn't sleep.
She gave me this small, tired nod. No smile.
"Hey," she said, and her voice cracked. Just that one word, and I knew.
Something happened.
I wanted to pull her into a hug, beg her to tell me everything—but I couldn't. Not here. Not in a hallway full of noise and backpacks slamming and kids laughing too loud.
I just nodded back. "Hey."
Yara showed up a second later, all bright eyes and fake cheer. She was talking fast, making jokes, pretending the weight in the air didn't exist... she laughed a little too loudly. Like she was trying really hard to prove nothing was wrong.
But it was.
Maria didn't laugh. Neither did I. It felt like we were three people pretending to still be best friends, like actors fumbling through a scene we didn't remember auditioning for.
When we got to class, Maria sat beside me like she always did, but she didn't say a word.
She didn't have to. I could feel it.
The shadows—they moved differently when my friends were around. Not just in my room anymore. At school. In the halls. Out of the corner of my eye, they slipped and twisted just behind Maria's shoulder, and once I swear I heard a whisper—so close it felt like it was inside my ear—but when I turned around, no one else had heard it.
Maria was standing right beside me when it happened. She didn't even flinch.The shadows—they moved differently when my friends were around. Not just in my room anymore. At school. In the halls. Out of the corner of my eye, they slipped and twisted just behind Yara's shoulder, and once I swear I heard a whisper—so close it felt like it was inside my ear—but when I turned around, no one else had heard it.
Maria was standing right beside me when it happened. She didn't even flinch.She knew something was wrong. She just didn't know what to call it yet.
The shadows had noticed her.
And I didn't know how long I had before they came back.
* * *
It was after lunch when Maria finally pulled me aside. Her hands were shaking, and her eyes—flicked nervously toward the hallway.
"Something's wrong," she whispered. "I don't know what, but... I woke up last night and the mirror in my room—Piper, it was fogged up. Like someone breathed on it. But no one was there. And there was something written in it. Just one word."
I didn't want to ask. I didn't want to know.
"What word?"
She swallowed hard.
"Disappear."