Бесплатный фрагмент - The mystery of the dark forest

You may be kinder than us all,

       yet live among the human throng

among them are those who despise

       the looks that fate alone decides.

The looks that fate alone decides —

       a truth not all can comprehend.

In this world you can’t coexist

       in this world you can’t coexist.

Grudiev R.

PROLOGUE

It was deep night in the year two thousand eight — quiet, calm, unlike anything before. The end of August foretold the coming of autumn. Some people dislike this season because of the constant rain and the approaching school year; others, on the contrary, adore it — for its vivid colors, cool air, and special mood. Everyone perceives it differently, with their own pros and cons.

For me, autumn is that very time when the warmth and carefree ease of summer give way to the harsh, cold, gray winter.

Everyone has their own associations. And, of course, no one should judge others for their opinions or try to convince them otherwise.

In a God-forgotten mountain town in Canada, a special atmosphere reigned — like a world unto itself. Winters here are always brutally cold, and neither autumn nor spring offers any real warmth. The cold begins as early as August, and truly warm spring weather arrives only in May. Mountain weather is changeable: rain can start suddenly, and ten minutes later the sun may come out again.

The town was called Mitalura. Population — about fifty thousand people. This was where our characters had moved to live.

Alex lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. It felt as though the entire world had collapsed on him, even though, in theory, he should have been happy about moving into a new house.

What worried him most was his younger sister, Jessica. In their old city, she had many friends. It was probably especially hard for her: it’s not easy to part forever with those who have become part of your soul, a piece of who you are. And now — a foreign city, not a single familiar face, no friends, no support.

Alex loved his sister very much. She was closer to him than anyone else in the world. Yes, Jessie could be spoiled at times, overly open, talkative — but she was real. And that was exactly why he loved her.

To calm himself a little, Alex often sat by the window and watched the city. He liked observing how this world changed, how other people lived, how time passed unnoticed. For example, that man with a briefcase — where was he rushing so late at night? Maybe he had stolen some important documents and was now trying to escape? Or perhaps he had simply stayed late at work and was hurrying home to his family? Or what if… he just urgently needed to use the bathroom, but hadn’t had the right moment before?

And what about that poor soul lying on the street? A homeless man? Or…

Suddenly, sirens from an ambulance wailed from the left. The vehicle stopped right beside the body. A few minutes later, the man was placed into a black bag.

He was dead. Right there on the street. Alone. Unwanted by anyone.

Thoughts tore at Alex’s mind: maybe he had health problems? Or was it that very man with the briefcase who had done something?.. Alex wasn’t a detective — but he liked building theories like that.

Now he was sitting on the windowsill of his new room. All around — deathly silence. Nothing like the capital. Here, in the mountains, the starry sky was especially clear. Every star seemed unique, shining in its own way. Above it all, the Milky Way stretched out majestically. Looking at it, Alex felt just how insignificant he was — nothing more than a speck of dust. Or even less.

The mountains surrounding the town were extraordinarily beautiful. Their outlines were sharp, like blades. It was as if the city lay in the jaws of a sleeping stone dragon.

Pulling his gaze away from the stars, Alex looked at his sister. She was asleep — peacefully, deeply, with a faint smile. She looked like an angel. He gently ran his palm along her cheek, and it felt as though a mountain had fallen from his shoulders. The most important thing was that she was nearby.

Alex and Jessica were mixed-race. Their mother was Chinese, their father a pure-blooded Canadian. They had lived their entire lives in Ottawa. That was where their parents had met. Having gone through many trials, they still managed to build a family — until one moment.

Why do men, after many years of marriage, suddenly start cheating? I can imagine several reasons: they get tired of one person, the feeling of love fades, there isn’t enough intimacy, or they’re simply womanizers.

Or maybe their father was a different type — the kind who seeks comfort from hopelessness. Who wants to be “supported”… though what kind of support that is, only God knows.

The arguments began. Big, painful ones. And all of it happened in front of the children. Alex and Jessie more than once saw their father raise his hand against their mother. Sometimes — against Alex himself, when he tried to defend her.

But every time, she forgave him. She didn’t want the children to grow up without a father. After all, she herself knew what it was like to be alone.

Of course, it was a mistake. Better to grow up without a father than with one like that. But at that moment, they had no other choice. Without him — no money, no roof over their heads. Maybe they really would have ended up on the street. On cold asphalt, huddled together, dying of hunger. And then they, too, would have been taken away in black bags.

That was how their mother thought.

Alex had always been his sister’s shield. When Jessie had hysterical breakdowns, he held her hand, distracted her, calmed her down — even when he himself was on the edge. He felt the world cracking at the seams, but he held on — for her sake.

He always knew when to change the subject, to divert her attention, to come up with something — anything — so she wouldn’t remember. So those scenes wouldn’t resurface.

Alex wanted to forget too. Forever.

Over time, their father lost both his family and his job. They had no choice — they had to sell the house and buy something modest, but at least decent.

That was how they ended up here. In Mitalura. A new home, a new city. And inside Alex, a small hope glimmered: maybe now everything would be different. Maybe his father would understand. Maybe he would become a good father…

Alex was often teased for being mixed-race. Despite all the talk about tolerance, there will always be those who despise you for how you look. Gradually, he began to hate his own appearance. Every time he looked in the mirror, he asked himself, Why do I have to endure this? Is it my fault I was born this way?

And what about those who are born with disabilities?.. It was frightening even to think about.

But looking at Jessica, he understood: he was not a freak. The freaks were the ones who mocked him. His sister was beautiful, bright, confident. She accepted herself. She loved herself — for who she was.

By two in the morning, Alex finally calmed down a little. Tomorrow was his first day at a new school. Deep down, he hoped that maybe here he would meet friends — people he could call his own.

He hadn’t called anyone a friend in a very long time.…⠀

CHAPTER ONE. THE BEGINNING OF A NEW STORY

Early morning arrived, promising nothing good. Jessica woke up before Alex and didn’t wake her brother — she knew he had once again stayed up late by the window.

The first thing she did was go down to the kitchen and put the coffee on — Alex loved it. After preparing breakfast for herself and her brother, she went upstairs to wake him. While he lazily got out of bed, Jessica picked out clothes for him and sat down to eat. The omelet turned out soft, fluffy, melting in her mouth. And with cool orange juice — it was simply wonderful.

Sometimes Jessica reminded him of their mother. She was always there, caring, watching over him — because who else would, if not her? Their mom seemed to have gone dim… as if she had forgotten she had a family. Maybe that was why Jessie had grown up so fast. Though perhaps there was a curse in that too — her youth would no longer be like that of her peers.

Alex finally came downstairs and, sitting at the table, said warmly:

“Thank you.”

They finished breakfast in silence. Jessica didn’t dare ask her brother why he hadn’t slept again. She understood: the move and the thought of his first day at a new school were tormenting him.

Instead of unnecessary words, she simply hugged him goodbye. She knew he would handle it. After all, this was already tenth grade.

Shouting to their parents that they were leaving, they stepped outside and got on the school bus. Alex tensely awaited the looks, the whispers, the mockery… but — nothing. Everyone kept chatting and minding their own business.

With relief, he exhaled and moved farther down, taking an empty seat. However, his neighbor was clearly displeased. He had already opened his mouth to bark something, but when he noticed Jessica, he sharply turned away with obvious irritation. Not the best start to the day.

The ride to school took about fifteen minutes. Mitalura was a small town — more narrow than crowded. Dense forest lined the sides, and beyond it rose the mountains. A mountain river ran through the middle of the town, dividing it into eastern and western parts.

At the entrance to the school stood a solid, short man. It was Michael Dorini — the principal. He always gladly welcomed newcomers; transfer students were a rarity in this town. Michael liked to give them a short tour, secretly hoping the students would come to love this place the way he did.

But today there was a ceremonial assembly.

“Good morning, dear students!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “The new school year has arrived. For some — the first. For others — the last…”

Most of the students weren’t listening — whispering, smiling. Some were happy to be back; others, on the contrary.

After the long and boring speech, everyone began to disperse to their classrooms. At that moment, Michael’s gaze fell on Alex Williams and Jessica Williams. He approached them.

“Alex and Jessica Williams?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m Alex, and this is my sister Jessie,” the boy confirmed, as if the principal couldn’t tell them apart himself.

“I’m glad to see you at our school. I hope you like it. May this year be an easy one for you.”

“We hope so,” Alex replied. “Will you take us to our classrooms?”

“Of course. This way, please,” the principal said with a smile.

Along the way, he talked about the school and its achievements. To be honest, some of them sounded exaggerated, but there was no point in arguing. Jessica felt the looks on her — if the principal himself was escorting them, that meant they were the new kids. The attention made her a little uncomfortable, but she stayed silent.

Michael showed them the cafeteria, the gym, the locker rooms, and the restrooms. Then they went up to the second floor. The first classroom was Jessica’s. The principal went in with her and introduced her to the teacher and the classmates. Jessie was going into sixth grade.

Alex stayed behind, waiting outside. He felt everything inside him tightening. His heart was pounding, his palms were damp. He felt lonely again. The students passing by seemed hostile. He let out a breath of relief when Michael appeared.

“Don’t worry, your sister ended up in the best class. No one will hurt her,” the principal said gently.

“I don’t doubt it,” Alex smirked. “I think she’ll make friends with everyone in a single day.”

“I believe that,” Michael nodded and led him farther down the hall.

The closer they got to the classroom, the stronger the urge to turn around and run. Sixteen years old, tenth grade — and he was afraid… afraid of people.

Memories of his old school surfaced in his mind. Back then, he had been more open. There were friends, jokes, laughter. But there were also… them. Those same guys who kept the entire class in fear. For any act of defiance, they could beat you — and no one would stop them.

Once, Alex and his friends had been playing tag during recess. He was slow, but clever — he often won. It was fun. Until those very ones — the assholes — walked into the classroom. One of them grabbed his friend and started mocking him.

“Leave him alone! Why are you picking on us?! Jealous that we’re having fun?” Alex shouted.

In response, the guy grabbed him by the hair and began jerking his head from side to side.

“Who gave you permission to speak, slant-eye?! Lost all your fear, have you?!”

Alex’s friends stood off to the side. Silent. Not intervening. His heart was tearing apart — not so much from the pain as from the betrayal.

“Ha-ha-ha! Crying already! Your eyes squinted shut — can you even see anything, little slit?” the guy sneered.

“Get lost so I never have to see your face again! If you can even find your way! Ha-ha!”

Alex ran out. He ran without stopping. Collapsed onto someone’s lawn. He hated everything: the day, the people, the school, his appearance.

Why do people hate others just for being different?..

Now he stood in front of the door to his new classroom. What if it all happened again? His heart beat faster. But he stayed. The principal opened the door.

“Good morning. Let me introduce a new student — Alex Williams,” Michael said and, nodding to the teacher, stepped out.

“Come in, don’t be shy. Sit wherever there’s a free seat,” the teacher said.

Alex noticed a boy not far from the entrance — green eyes, dark curly hair, neat appearance. There was something about him that drew attention. Maybe they’d become friends?

Alex began laying out his things, trying not to intrude on his neighbor’s “personal space.” But the other boy beat him to it.

“Hey,” he said with a smile.

“Hey. I’m Alex. From Ottawa.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex from Ottawa! I’m Mark. Born and raised here,” he said proudly.

“Likewise,” Alex replied and shook the hand extended to him.

They listened to the lesson, occasionally exchanging glances with faint smiles. The teacher asked about summer vacation, talked about her own. Some had gone to the mountains, some to islands, others had simply stayed home with family.

Alex periodically got distracted by a girl sitting in front of them. She often turned around and looked in his direction, which threw him off a little. He couldn’t tell who exactly she was looking at — him or Mark. But when he noticed that Mark was glancing her way too, everything became clear.

When lunchtime came, Alex asked,

“Mark, do you want to have lunch with me?”

“Sure, why not. Come with us,” he replied with a smile.

With us? Alex repeated to himself in surprise. And then that very girl approached them.

“Hi, I’m Amy. Nice to meet you,” she said warmly.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Alex replied shyly.

It turned out he already had a group. And no one had said a single word about his appearance. It felt like a miracle.

They went into the cafeteria. It was crowded. Amy reacted quickly — she tossed her backpack onto a free table and waved the guys over.

“So, what do you have for lunch today?” she asked, unpacking her containers.

“I’ve got pasta, vegetables, and juice,” Mark answered.

Alex silently opened his container and started eating.

“Mmm, omelet…” Amy drawled, glancing at his plate, then turned back to her own.

A warm, cozy silence settled in — delicious, even. But it didn’t last long. Amy spoke again.

“Alex, tell us about yourself. Let’s get to know you better!”

He hesitated. He’d known them for only a couple of hours. Sharing anything personal felt strange. But staying silent wasn’t really an option either.

“I’m sixteen. I moved here from Ottawa with my family. I have a younger sister — Jessie,” he replied evasively, deliberately shifting the focus to her.

“So how do you like our town, bro?” Mark asked.

“Hard to say. I’ve only been here a few days. I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” Alex said. The word bro made him tense a little, but he didn’t show it.

“A-greeeeed,” Amy drawled. “And where do you live?”

Alex tensed even more. Why do they need to know that? flashed through his mind. Still, he answered.

“On Green Street.”

“What?!” Amy exclaimed. “You’re lying! No, that can’t be! I live on Green Street too!”

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Which house?” she added quickly.

“Thirty-two,” he said uncertainly.

“No way! I’m in the one next door! Wheee! I’ve got a neighbor from my class now! Can you imagine?!”

“Yeah, I’m about to explode with happiness,” Alex smirked. A light chuckle slipped between them.

“Mark, why are you so quiet? Like you swallowed your tongue!” Amy teased him.

“You two are so businesslike that I decided to watch this show from the sidelines,” he shot back. “You’re grilling the guy with questions, and then you’re surprised he goes quiet.”

“Oh, look at that, a philosopher,” she snorted. “Sorry for trying to keep the conversation alive — for once! Unlike some people!”

“I love you too, dear friend,” Mark said with a smile.

Alex smirked. They clearly went way back. Maybe even more than just friends?

“Well then,” Mark sighed. “I’m sixteen too. I love computer science, robots, technology. Basically, a nerd. That’s what my brother Simon says. But he’s a good guy — I’ll introduce you sometime. He actually went to school with this madam’s sister,” he added, pointing at Amy.

“This madam has a name, nerd!” she muttered, though she was smiling.

“They even had a thing at our age. Not for long, but they stayed friends.”

“That’s good they did,” Alex chimed in. “Means not everything’s lost.”

Amy lowered her gaze slightly.

“My sister and I knit together. It’s our hobby,” she said.

“And then their masterpieces end up in thrift stores,” Mark teased.

“Oh, shut up already!” she shouted — without any real anger.

“Alright, no scandals, lovebirds. We’ve got class,” Alex cut in.

“We’re not lovebirds!” they blurted out at the same time.

As they packed up, Alex noticed his sister — she was sitting with a group, laughing. She waved at him. He waved back, smiling. His heart thawed. Things weren’t so bad after all.

After classes, Alex stayed with his new friends all the way to the bus. They laughed, shared school stories, talked about classmates. Alex felt like he belonged here. Even… calm.

Jessica was already waiting for him by the bus. She was glowing.

“So, how was your day?” she asked when he came up to her.

He hugged her. There was a smile on his face — so rare that Jessie froze for a second, not believing her eyes.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Alex said, sitting down beside her.

Jessie chatted nonstop — about new friends, about how the teachers praised her, about how she no longer missed Ottawa. Alex listened with a smile. Her happiness was his happiness.

Then he told her about Mark and Amy. About how he’d been afraid of ending up alone — and instead found himself in good company. Jessie perked up immediately.

“Amy is your neighbor?! I want to meet her!”

Alex smirked.

“You always make friends fast.”

Soon the bus pulled up to their house. Their mom was already waiting on the porch. When she saw the children smiling, the tension melted away at once. She hugged them and invited them in for dinner.

After dinner, Jessica told everything again — this time to their mom, just as emotionally, eyes shining. Their mom listened, then complained about being tired — she’d been unpacking, found an old garden behind the house, and cleaned it up a little. The kids ran out to see it, intrigued.

In the backyard, they were blinded by a warm sunset. The sky burned with color, sunlight filtering through the half-bare branches of fruit trees. Birds sang their last songs before autumn. In the middle of the garden stood an old pile of stones — a former fountain. Now it was a dirty bowl filled with stagnant water, reflecting the dying light. Still — beautiful. And quiet.

And then — a scream.

The kids flinched. From behind the fence came a voice:

“I’m okay!”

“Who was that?” Jessica asked.

“Unfortunately, someone we know…” Alex sighed. “That was Amy.”

There was another crash from behind the fence. Then Amy appeared, climbing over the wall.

“Hey, guys!” she shouted when she saw Jessie.

“Hey, Amy,” Alex said heavily.

“Hi!” Jessie said cheerfully. “You’re so pretty!”

“Oh my God, that’s so sweet! Thank you, cutie! I think we’re going to be friends,” Amy winked.

“O-kay, I’m heading inside. Jessie, don’t stay out too late, alright?” Alex muttered, walking toward the house.

“I promise!”

A thought flashed through his mind: That’s it. They’re definitely going to be friends now. And I’ll be seeing Amy every day… He sighed. Yeah, she seemed a little pushy — but he didn’t mind. As long as his sister was happy.

Now everything would be completely different..

CHAPTER TWO. NEW ACQUAINTANCES

Barely an hour after Alex returned home, a happy Jessie headed into the kitchen. Their parents and brother were already sitting at the table, waiting for her. They invited her to sit beside them and continued discussing the day that had passed. The kids retold their impressions of school — this time for their father. And even though the expression on his face sometimes clearly said I don’t care, he still listened — or at least pretended to.

When the story came to an end, Alex finally asked the question that had been tormenting him for a long time.

“Maybe you’ll finally explain why we changed our lives so abruptly? Couldn’t we have moved earlier — not the day before the school year starts, on Labor Day?” he asked irritably.

“Does it really bother you?” his father replied calmly, without lifting his eyes.

“Imagine that, it does. Why do we all have to run around like squirrels on a wheel because of you? And even then you couldn’t be bothered to help Mom unpack — ”

He didn’t finish. A fist slammed down on the table, and a shout tore through the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even exist! You’d be living with your mother in some alley, at best!”

His father jumped to his feet, knocking over the chair, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Their mother remained seated, silent, trying to hold back tears. Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to sound calm.

“It’s late. Go to bed. You have to get up early tomorrow.”

Alex stood and took Jessica by the hand. She followed reluctantly. She wanted to turn back, hug her mother, hide her from this world. But she left. As soon as the children went upstairs, the woman began to cry — quietly, without a sound. For her children, she was ready for anything. Even if she didn’t always succeed.

The moment Alex entered his room, he buried his face in the pillow and fell asleep instantly. The day had drained him completely. Outside the window — it was already deep night. How long had they been sitting in the kitchen?

Jessie quietly sat down beside him. She stroked his back — either trying to calm him, or herself. Maybe both. Making sure he was asleep, she covered him with a blanket, whispered “good night,” and lay down in her own bed. Sleep wouldn’t come. Thoughts swirled in her head like annoying flies. Everything that had happened at the table hurt her. Why can’t adults be kinder — especially to their own children? Why does family, instead of being a support, cause pain?

She wanted peace. Not only in the house, but in the whole world…

In the morning, brother and sister woke up reluctantly — school again. They had breakfast, got dressed, and went outside. Just like yesterday, no one walked them out. You’d think they’d be used to it by now… but no.

Amy was already waiting for them near the house. This time, she wasn’t alone. Beside her stood a tall, beautiful girl — about five foot seven, with thick dark hair curling like waves on a clear day. Her eyes were deep and dark, but her smile was bright, like the morning sun.

“Hey! Hi, guys!” Amy waved cheerfully.

Jessie immediately ran up to her friend and, for the first time since they’d met, hugged her — now there was no fence between them.

“Hi, Amy! I’m so happy to see you! Is this your sister?” she asked, curiously studying the girl.

“Hey, cutie. I’m Cheryl, the older sister of this little troublemaker,” she nodded toward Amy. “And who are you?”

“Jessica. You can just call me Jessie,” the girl said with a smile, extending her hand.

Alex watched silently. His face remained blank. Inside — anger and irritation. He was still shaken by his father and didn’t want to get close to anyone. But yesterday, against his will, he’d had a good evening… and it wouldn’t leave him alone.

Taking a deep breath, he said shortly,

“Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. You’re Amy’s classmate, right?” Cheryl уточнила. Realizing she wouldn’t get a handshake from him, she didn’t insist.

“Yeah. Amy, Mark, and I are in the same class.”

“By any chance, have you met Simon?” she asked in surprise. “Mark’s older brother?”

“I’ve heard of him. Amy told me,” Alex replied. “They’re friends?”

“More than friends,” Cheryl said softly, smiling.

The four of them headed toward the bus stop together. Alex didn’t understand why Cheryl was going with them, but he decided not to ask. On the bus, they talked about everything. Jessie managed to tell Cheryl half her life story. Cheryl listened with interest, then shared her own.

“I studied design. Wanted to become a stylist. Planned to apply in Toronto, but I stayed here — for Amy. Maybe later we’ll still leave together.”

“That’s why you and Amy make clothes!” Jessie said admiringly. “That’s so cool!”

“You already told her everything, didn’t you?” Cheryl laughed. “You can’t take your eyes off her for a second.”

Jessie giggled with her infectious laugh, and even Alex smiled. Cheryl looked at him — seeing his smile for the first time. Something in her gaze changed. He was looking at her too… differently. As if, for the first time, he wasn’t ashamed. He couldn’t look away. It felt as though he was drowning in her eyes.

The bus came to a stop. Everyone began getting off. Cheryl said goodbye:

“See you, guys. I’ve got to go.”

“Bye, Cheryl. Have a good day,” Alex said warmly.

She winked at him and disappeared. Amy and Jessie immediately exchanged glances and snickered mischievously.

Outside, Cheryl was already being waited for by Simon — a tall, muscular guy with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He smiled restrainedly, wrapped an arm around her waist, and the two of them walked off together, throwing a couple of parting words Mark’s way. Alex watched them go, thoughtfully observing their confident stride.

“Hey, guys,” Mark said quietly, stepping closer. His gaze flicked toward the direction where Simon and Cheryl had disappeared. He looked uneasy — as if afraid his brother might see him here, among the younger kids.

Alex, already in a better mood, walked up to him with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

“Hey. Good to see you.”

Amy greeted him too and gave him a tight hug. Without any extra words, the three of them headed toward the school.

The day passed calmly. Not a hint of anxiety, not a trace of trouble. After all, this was Canada — a safe country. And even though every corner of the world has its own “parasites,” in Mitalura, it seemed, there were none at all.

In class, Alex listened to everything except the teacher. His thoughts kept drifting back to Cheryl. Who was she really? Maybe she was only pretending to be kind and smiling, while inside she was sly and arrogant… like her boyfriend Simon? Alex didn’t know him personally, but Amy’s stories had been telling enough. But… maybe it was different? Maybe she was like Jessie — bright, genuine?

His thoughts were interrupted by a light nudge to the shoulder. It was Mark. As always, he was smiling, as if he knew exactly what Alex had been thinking. Throughout the day they whispered, joked, drew ridiculous characters in their notebooks, and came up with stories for them. Mark turned out to be surprisingly close, despite how little time they’d known each other.

After school, they gathered again by the gates — their small but already solid tradition. Everyone shared impressions, and as usual, Amy talked the most emotionally, while Jessie listened with admiration. Soon Cheryl approached them — alone. She looked tired, but still smiled, greeted everyone, and hugged her sister.

“Hi, Amily,” she said warmly.

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?!” Amy flared up. “It sounds awful.”

“You’ll survive. I put up with you — now you put up with me,” Cheryl shot back.

“‘Amily,’” Jessica giggled. “That’s how I’m saving you in my phone.”

Everyone watched the sisters’ banter with amusement. Alex especially — he found Amy’s disgruntled expression funny. And after that, he liked Cheryl even more.

“Maybe we should walk home — screw the bus. What do you guys think?” Amy suggested.

“I think it’s a good idea. A walk wouldn’t hurt,” Mark agreed.

“No, thanks. I’m really tired, and we’ll probably take the bus,” Alex replied. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“You do you, but I’m going with them. I really want to take a walk. Besides, what are we going to do at home? You can’t really relax there,” Jessie said.

“No way. I’m not letting you go alone,” her brother objected.

“In that case, you’ll have to come with us, because I’m already seriously set on this walk. You wouldn’t leave me without supervision, would you?” she said with a slight smirk. “Besides, you’ll be walking with us — and with Cheryl,” Jessie added with a giggle, exchanging a glance with Amy.

“Come on. I’d be glad for your company,” Mark said to Alex with a bright smile, holding out his hand.

After a moment’s thought, Alex agreed. What would he do at home anyway — especially alone? Then he’d just worry if Jessie was late. And why not spend some pleasant time with friends? He took his friend’s hand in return, saying without words, Alright. I’m in.

The group of friends headed toward their homes. They cheerfully discussed classmates and teachers, inventing various nicknames for some of them. Cheryl understood perfectly who they were talking about — after all, she herself hadn’t studied under these teachers that long ago. Sometimes she joined the conversation, recalling what she used to call them back when she was still a student.

They were already approaching Mark’s house, and the group decided to make plans for their next meeting.

“Maybe we should get together again in a few days and take a walk downtown?” Amy suggested.

“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll invite my friend Paula then,” Cheryl said with a smile.

“Oh no, not that little demon,” Amy exclaimed indignantly. “I get scared just looking at her. Maybe we can do it without her?”

“Amy, don’t say that. Just because she’s goth doesn’t mean she’s a demon,” Cheryl muttered displeasedly. “Let’s be a bit more respectful toward my friend, okay?”

“Oh, what could be worse?” Amy started whining demonstratively.

“Living in the same house with you — that’s worse,” Cheryl shot back and lightly flicked her sister on the back of the head.

“Cheryl, tell us a little about Paula. I’d like to know more about her,” Jessie asked curiously.

Cheryl didn’t like talking about Paula. It was a painful subject — for both her and Paula herself. Cheryl never shared details of her friend’s life with anyone; personal matters weren’t meant for public discussion. Besides, Paula wouldn’t like it if her best friend told strangers about her private life, so Cheryl always tried to avoid the topic.

But why not tell you about her?

Paula was a lovely girl — like a little doll. Round-faced, dark-haired, blue-eyed. Her parents were good people — no, her mother was wonderful, but her father cheated on her and left. Karma acted quickly: his lover left him too, and he ended up completely alone. Paula’s stepfather took his place — a man who loved her like his own daughter, and she loved him as her real father.

Paula grew up happy, smart, and friendly. Her parents didn’t spoil her — and there was no need to — but she deeply appreciated everything she had.

It was an ordinary autumn day when Paula came home from school. She was in a bad mood, exhausted after a long day of studying. Her mother was sitting in the kitchen, sipping imported tea. Her stepfather was in his study, buried in paperwork. Seeing her daughter, her mother immediately called her to dinner. That day she had cooked some complicated dish from an old recipe book, and it smelled divine. The man also came down to the kitchen, kissed his daughter on the forehead, and sat at the table.

Dinner conversation was ordinary — about work, daily things. The man was hoping for a promotion and had been working more than usual.

After finishing her meal, Paula went to her room to do her homework. She loved reading, so before starting her tasks, she indulged herself with books. Why not? Paula jumped onto the bed and pulled out her favorite book at the time. She was completely absorbed in the story, imagining herself as the heroine.

A heavy knock echoed downstairs.

It was already late — who could that be? Her mother and stepfather argued angrily and slammed the door in the visitor’s face. Paula decided not to pay attention and kept reading.

Barely five minutes later, a bright light flashed through the window, followed by her mother’s inhuman scream.

Paula hid her book under the bed and headed for the door, but before she reached it, her mother burst into the room and hugged her tightly.

“Mom, what’s happening?” the girl asked in fear.

“Don’t be afraid. He won’t succeed. Dad will help us,” her mother said in a voice trembling with terror.

“Who is he?” Paula asked. But before her mother could answer, a man appeared in the doorway and quickly entered the room.

Her stepfather wrapped an arm around them and, covering their faces with a damp cloth, led them along the wall. The lower floor was burning; going down the stairs was unsafe. They hid in the parents’ bedroom. The man called emergency services and gave their address.

The wooden floors creaked and cracked terribly from the intense heat. The sound of fire approaching them was unmistakable. Paula’s mother couldn’t sit and wait — either for rescue or death. There was nowhere to go: jumping out the window wasn’t an option — Paula could be badly injured.

Picking up her daughter, she ran.

“Stop! Don’t you dare!” her husband shouted after her.

But without hesitation, he rushed after them.

The woman stopped abruptly at the staircase. Death and hellish heat surrounded her. Paula was crying, praying to God to help them, to spare her mother from the pain brought by the fire. The woman noticed a hole in the floor and moved toward it.

“I’ll carefully lower you down, and then we’ll follow, okay?” her mother said soothingly.

The girl nodded and took her mother’s hands. She was gently lowered to the floor below. Once down, Paula waved to show she was fine. Her father came over and lowered his wife as well. He was about to climb down himself when he twisted his ankle and was forced to stay upstairs.

“Go! Leave!” the man shouted. His voice shook with pain and tears.

The fire was closing in on both him and them. The woman couldn’t leave him behind — but she couldn’t abandon her daughter either. Thick black smoke filled the room. In the end, they turned and headed for the exit. Paula’s mother covered her eyes and mouth — so she wouldn’t breathe in the smoke, or maybe so her heart-rending cries wouldn’t be heard.

The man lay there, watching his beloved women disappear. The most important thing was that they would live. Had they died, he wouldn’t have survived it anyway. The fire finally reached him and consumed his body. Heavy, inhuman screams echoed throughout the house. His body shook violently, his mind emptied — there was only pain. His suffering ended. He died in the embrace of the merciless fire.

As the women approached the exit, people in uniform were breaking down the door. Everything looked distorted, unreal. The woman could no longer walk — she dragged her feet, collapsing onto her daughter with almost her full weight. Having taken care of her child, she had forgotten about herself. She had inhaled too much smoke. She collapsed to the floor, pushing Paula away toward the door.

She could do nothing now. The only thing she managed to say, in a hoarse voice, was:

“Take care of yourself. I love you.”

The rescuers took the girl first and carried her outside. Paula screamed, reaching for her mother. She didn’t want to leave her. She didn’t want to lose her. Her only wish was to lie down beside her and die — so unbearable was the pain.

Paula sat on a stretcher, wrapped in a warm blanket, staring at the dying house in which she had lost her parents that very night. Lost everything she had. Firefighters and medics rushed around. Somewhere in the distance, police sirens wailed. Near a neighboring house stood a lonely silhouette, watching everything unfold — and after a while, it disappeared.

Now Paula is grown up. She lives on her own. Not as happily or comfortably as she could have — but she lives.

All her life she has been haunted by one question: Why did the fire happen, and from whom was her mother trying to protect her?

Hopefully, one day she will find the answers.

And could Cheryl tell all this to them? No. So she keeps silent. If Paula wants to tell it — she will.

“Paula is eighteen now. She lives alone. She has no parents — they died when she was little. She studied at our school, one grade below mine. That’s where we met. She’s a wonderful person,” Cheryl said softly, with warmth and compassion in her voice.

“Poor thing… I’m really sorry for her. I’m sure she’s amazing,” little Jessie said gently.

“Yeah, and you forgot to mention that she — » Amy started, but Cheryl cut her off.

“That she what? Not like you?” she replied with disdain.

Amy growled angrily but didn’t continue — she knew Cheryl was right. As always.

“Well, guys, it was nice walking with you. See you soon!” Mark said, hugging everyone before heading home.

The rest of the walk passed unnoticed. Time flew by thanks to the engaging conversations. As they approached their houses, they said their goodbyes in advance. Near the Williams’ home, they finally stopped. Cheryl thanked them for the walk and said she was glad to have made new acquaintances. She wished them good night, hugged Jessie, then Alex — and lightly kissed him on the cheek.

“See you,” she said with a smile and headed home, holding her sister’s hand.

Jessie slowly turned toward her brother and began wiggling her eyebrows. Alex only rolled his eyes.

At home, it felt like no one was waiting for them — no one even noticed they were late. Why did they still worry about their parents’ coldness when they should have gotten used to it by now? Because parents aren’t supposed to be like that. The children didn’t feel care, warmth, or love from them. Did that mean they were indifferent? Thoughts like these always made them sad.

They went to bed earlier than usual and fell asleep almost immediately. The days that followed became routine: school, friends, home. On weekends, their parents still didn’t spend time with them. But Amy happily came over to stay the night with Jessie. Alex grumbled about having to tolerate their hangouts, but he had no choice.

The group met almost every day — it became their little tradition. A little over a month passed. Labor Day felt like yesterday — and now Halloween was already approaching. How quickly time flies.

During that period, they still hadn’t met Paula. But everything was ahead of them.

A new day was coming. And a new story…

---

---

CHAPTER THREE. FORGOTTEN PAST

Over the past month and a half, which flew by like a single moment, the group had grown noticeably closer — as if every day spent together became a small piece of something bigger and real.

Let’s start, perhaps, with Jessie and Amy.

The girls quickly became not just friends, but best friends — the kind who understand each other without words, who can laugh at things no one else would get, and who can be trusted with the most intimate secrets.

At school, they tried to meet as often as possible. Amy talked about boys, gossip, breakups, and crushes, seasoning everything with sharp, sarcastic jokes. Jessie, on the other hand, became fascinated with fashion and jewelry — and her interest grew with each passing day. Cheryl’s story inspired her so deeply that she plunged headfirst into this world, studying her reflection in the mirror with new attention, as if she were finally seeing herself for the first time.

During sleepovers, the girls turned the room into a mini beauty salon: they painted their lips, lined their eyes, glued glitter in place of eyeliner. The light from the night lamp reflected off it all, as if stars were flickering right at their lashes.

But they were still afraid to appear in public like that. Somewhere deep inside lived that familiar school insecurity — what if they judge us?

Amy often brought scissors, thread, and fabric scraps from home. Together they invented jewelry, sewed hair ties, hemmed sleeves, glued on rhinestones — everything looked cheap, naive, but childishly stylish. And there was something soulful in it, a charm all its own.

Meanwhile, Mark began spending less time with Amy.

It was as if something between them had cracked. They didn’t argue, but there was tension in the air — like a cool wind on a clear day: invisible, but undeniably there. Maybe they had a falling-out, or maybe… they had simply grown a little farther apart.

Out of boredom, Mark started spending more time with Alex, and Alex didn’t mind — Jessie now spent almost all her free time with her new friend.

Mark and Alex played ball near the house, sometimes just sat on the grass, listening to the wind rustle through the treetops. They shared memories, talked about the future, about fears, about dreams — awkwardly, but honestly. It was friendship — without pathos, but with warmth.

Cheryl had changed too.

She became more open, more talkative. Sometimes she met Jessie after school, asked about her day, listened with genuine enthusiasm to her new ideas, and her praise didn’t sound forced — it sounded like recognition.

She didn’t forget about Alex either — asking how things were at home, how Jessie and Amy were getting along.

She enjoyed spending time with them — and the feeling was mutual.

At the same time, Cheryl hadn’t abandoned her old life.

Paula and Simon were still very much part of it: parties, dancing, conversations until morning. She seemed to balance between two worlds — the loud, adult one, and the quiet, childishly genuine one.

“Kids? No thanks,” she would say with a curl of her lips, as if the word itself were a diagnosis.

And so they didn’t cross paths.

Until a certain moment.

Halloween crept closer, just as the holiday should — stealthily, in the orange glow of shop windows, in the rustle of costumes, in the cloying smell of caramel and candle smoke. Teenagers discussed in advance where and how they would spend the evening — the idea of going out together as a group came naturally.

Alex and Jessie stood near Amy’s house, glancing toward the porch.

Dusk had thickened, the air was growing cool. Somewhere in the distance the wind whined, and somewhere costumed children laughed. Everything around them seemed to freeze in anticipation of something — strange, magical, frightening.

About ten minutes later, the door opened and Amy and her sister stepped onto the porch.

They looked bright and festive: a spark of excitement in their eyes, smiles playing on their lips.

The group barely had time to exchange greetings when suddenly—

A loud scream from the other end of the street cut through the evening silence, making everyone flinch and turn around.

“Cheryl!”

A girl approached them slowly, with the grace of a predatory cat.

Tall, with striking features, curvy in moderation, but radiating confidence and style. Her hair was dyed black, pulled into a low ponytail, her bangs perfectly straight. She wore a fitted black tuxedo, and her nails were long, black, and glossy.

Everything in one color, from the crown of her head to her heels. And damn it — she didn’t just look good in it. She looked like she had been born for this image.

“Paula!” Cheryl exclaimed with a joyful smile and hurried toward her. “I’m so glad you came!”

They hugged tightly, while Paula was already sweeping her gaze over everyone present. There was no embarrassment or shyness in her eyes — only appraisal. It was as if she were measuring them from head to toe with an invisible ruler.

Then she theatrically rolled her eyes, snorted, and said with a smirk:

“Well, you didn’t say this was going to be a daycare… I would’ve at least bought a pack of diapers.”

The atmosphere hung in the air for a second, like a joke that didn’t quite land. But Jessie didn’t lose her composure.

She smirked and replied with that rare chill of confidence in her voice — the kind that hardly ever appears in teenagers, but when it does, it sticks hard:

“The daycare already took care of everything. Brought a couple of diapers along, baby.”

Paula looked at her again — but differently this time. A spark of interest flashed in her eyes — almost respect. The corners of her lips twitched.

“I already like you,” she said with a grin and held out her hand. “Paula. And you are?”

“Jessica. Nice to finally meet you,” she replied, shaking her hand without a trace of hesitation.

Jessie immediately introduced Alex as well, but Paula only glanced at him briefly, without much interest, nodded, and turned away.

It was written all over her face: not impressed.

“Cheryl,” Amy spoke up, as if trying to bring everyone back on topic, “you said something yesterday about the celebration… Have you figured out where we’re going?”

Jessie and Amy had suggested throwing a costume party at someone’s house and then going trick-or-treating around the neighborhood — collecting candy, scaring neighbors, having fun. The idea seemed perfect: cozy lights, pumpkins, music, a friendly atmosphere.

But Cheryl had been indifferent then. She wanted something bigger — an actual party: loud, bright, with a real wow effect. She had promised to come up with something more interesting… and apparently had completely forgotten about it.

“A celebration? Wait… Is that the one I’m thinking of?” Paula perked up, snapping out of her lazy indifference. “And why haven’t I been invited yet?! What, am I extra or something?”

Cheryl froze. Thoughts flickered wildly in her eyes. She was visibly flustered, blinking as if she had suddenly come to in the middle of a play she didn’t know the script to.

Everyone stared at her, as if expecting just one thing — an answer.

Awkward tension thickened the air. Cheryl cast a sideways glance at Alex — pleading, as if hoping he would speak for her. But he only looked back, unsure of what to do. Then Cheryl swallowed and blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

“Yeah, we’re going to a haunted house! We’ll hang out there, tell scary stories.”

“A house…” Alex began, frowning.

“…haunted?!” Amy echoed, craning her neck forward.

Doubt and mild horror flickered across the kids’ faces. They looked at Cheryl as if she had just suggested spending the night in a morgue.

Only one person — Paula — was glowing, as if she had just heard the best idea of her life. She gave a satisfied hum and squeezed her friend’s shoulder:

“Finally, someone normal.”

But then Amy, pale with tension, jerked her head up sharply:

“No!”

Paula looked down at her and sneered with open contempt:

“No one asked you, squirt.”

Silence. Heavy, dense, like November fog.

Jessica said nothing. She seemed to have taken the role of an observer, staying out of the argument. But Paula didn’t miss the moment — she shifted her gaze to her, tilted her head slightly, and smiled slyly:

“Well, at least the pretty one’s coming with us.”

“No, we need to come up with something else,” Alex cut in, his voice quiet but tight.

Something inside him tensed, pulled into a taut string. This idea — this haunted house — didn’t just sound uncomfortable. It rang with something dangerous.

He looked at Cheryl, trying to convey his anxiety with his eyes, but she didn’t understand — or pretended not to.

“Then stay home,” Paula snapped. “That’s where kids belong.”

Alex clenched his fists, exhaled heavily, and closed his eyes, as if trying to compress the storm of emotions raging inside him. A few seconds passed — and then he said quietly, almost in a whisper:

“Cheryl, can I talk to you for a moment? Please.”

Cheryl turned sharply. Paula beside her rolled her eyes demonstratively, waved a hand, and hissed through clenched teeth:

“Go already. It’s obvious…”

Cheryl forced a tight smile, as if apologizing with her eyes to her friend, and nodded at Alex:

“Of course. Let’s go.”

They stepped aside, and the evening seemed to grow colder. Paula stayed behind, idly tapping her sharp nails against the rings on her fingers, like claws on glass — with the expression of someone who sensed that things were about to get much more interesting.

Inside, Cheryl felt a smoldering anxiety. She walked beside Alex, shoulders slightly slumped, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He looked calm, but there was tension in his restraint — like a spring about to snap. Cheryl shrank inward: What if he explodes? Judges her? Yells?

But instead, Alex spoke almost in a whisper — restrained, but with words that rang clearly:

“Tell me you were joking. Please. What kind of celebration is this — in an abandoned house? That’s insane.”

Cheryl tried to joke it off, soften the edge:

“Alex, if you’re scared, we can — ”

“I’m not scared for myself,” he cut in sharply. “I’m scared for Jessie. You understand what could happen in a place like that at night, right? There could be vagrants there. Junkies… psychopaths.”

He swallowed.

“What if she gets hurt? She’s still a kid.”

Cheryl looked at him closely — without irritation, but with firmness, even a hint of challenge:

“I have a younger sister too. Amy. She’s at your house all the time, by the way. You think I don’t care?”

She spoke calmly, but there was steel in her voice.

“I’d tear anyone apart for her. Even Mark.”

Alex lowered his gaze, then sighed:

“Then tell everyone we changed our minds. In front of Jessie.”

He paused for a second, as if ashamed of what he was about to say:

“Yes, it’ll make you look bad. Yes, it’s awful. But I won’t take her there. I can’t.”

“And what will you tell her?”

“I’ll figure something out. But for now… just say we decided to only go trick-or-treating. Please, Cheryl.”

She froze, as if weighing the choice inside herself. It was clear how two impulses were fighting within her — the teenage rebellion and the responsibility of an older sister. After a few seconds, Cheryl slowly nodded.

Alex let out a relieved breath and hugged her automatically — without extra words, simply out of gratitude.

Cheryl stiffened for a second in his arms. It was unexpected, awkward… and yet strangely familiar. Warm. Almost familial. She allowed herself to return the hug — hesitantly, but sincerely.

On the other end of the street, Paula watched them with an expression as if she’d bitten into a lemon and washed it down with vinegar. Her eyes rolled so high it seemed she might see the sky through her skull.

“You don’t even have to start — I get it already,” she muttered, barely waiting for them to return.

Cheryl walked up to her, lightly wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and said softly:

“Paula, let’s talk about this later. You and I will still have fun. Besides, there’s a party ahead…” she whispered conspiratorially into her ear.

Paula, still wearing the look of an offended prom queen, nevertheless gave in — her lips twitched, and a faint but genuine smile appeared.

“So we’re not going to the haunted house?” Amy asked with slight disappointment, twisting a piece of dry leaf in her hands.

“No!” Alex cut in sharply, leaving no room for discussion.

Jessie, standing off to the side, shot him a look from under her brows:

“Scaredy-cat,” she said — not maliciously, but loud enough.

Alex went numb. He hadn’t expected that from her. A flash of confusion, pain, and something like hurt crossed his face. Paula smirked, looking from Jessie to him — as if the scene had suddenly become more entertaining.

“But we’ll sew the best costumes and blow everyone away!” Cheryl chimed in brightly, defusing the tension. “And we’ll invite Mark. And Simon too.”

She threw Alex a glance — half playful, half farewell. He shrugged:

“Do I even have a choice?”

“You don’t!” Paula chimed in immediately, lifting her chin smugly, as if she had reclaimed control of the situation.

Meeting Paula left a bitter aftertaste for Alex. He felt it on a physical level — like brushing against nettles. And it seemed the feeling was mutual.

Despite her outward friendliness, Paula looked down on him. To her, he was… stupid. Infantile. A cereal-box boy.

Jessie, on the other hand, she treated much more warmly — with a kind of unexpected attention, even sympathy.

Maybe it was the girl’s sharp sense of humor. Maybe the fact that she didn’t bend, but also didn’t push herself forward. Or maybe… simply because Jessie wasn’t Alex.

After the conversation, Paula and Cheryl headed into town — off for an evening walk full of whispers, cigarettes, and laughter.

Alex, Jessie, and Amy returned to the Williams’ house.

The three of them settled on Jessie’s bed — spacious, covered in pillows and a soft blanket. The girls spread out pencils, fabric scraps, notebooks, and excitedly discussed their plans.

Strangely enough, everything revolved around Halloween again.

Alex was sick of the topic. It felt like that damn holiday was haunting him like an annoying fly.

He didn’t want to take part in it. Didn’t want to pretend. And certainly didn’t want to lie.

While Jessie and Amy sketched designs, argued over lining colors and cloak lengths, he sat beside them, staring into nothing, drowning in a mess of thoughts.

What should he do?

Tell Jessie the truth? Betray Cheryl? Cause a scene? Or… let things run their course?

He didn’t know. Only one thing was clear: he didn’t want to lie to Jessie. He swore to himself he would never become the kind of adult who hides things and speaks in half-truths. But simply watching her walk into an abandoned house at night — he couldn’t do that either.

It was a dead end.

“Clap!” — a sound exploded right in front of his face.

Alex flinched. Amy stood there, wearing a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling.

“Are you even alive? Come back to planet Earth!”

He covered his face with his hands and let out a heavy breath. He wanted to disappear — even just for a couple of hours — into silence, where no one asked questions.

The girls, absorbed in their ideas, never showed him the sketches. And even though he tried to act indifferent, he was still upset. Curiosity gnawed at him from the inside. What had they come up with?..

Later, when Amy left and the house sank into cozy, pre-evening quiet, Alex’s phone buzzed with a message:

— Cheryl Brown — 10/29/08, 10:08 PM

“Meet us at eleven at my place. We’re waiting for you.”

Alex lowered the phone and looked at Jessie. She was already asleep.

The night-light cast a soft, golden halo over her face. A faint, barely noticeable smile rested on her lips.

She was sleeping, dreaming. About the upcoming holiday. About costumes. About paper lanterns and carved pumpkins. About an evening where everything would be magical.

Alex stepped closer, bent down, and kissed her forehead — carefully, almost imperceptibly.

“Good night, Jessie,” he whispered.

Then he lay down himself. Closed his eyes. But sleep didn’t come. There were only thoughts — anxious, tangled, like radio interference.

Ahead lay lying to his sister. Sneaking out of the house. And possibly something more — something he couldn’t yet explain.

At one point, he just wanted to stay. Not go anywhere. Stop clinging. But something… or someone… kept pulling him there.

At 11:00 PM he got up. Everything inside him felt eerily calm — like before a storm. He put on his jacket, zipped it up with trembling fingers, cast one last look at Jessie.

She was sleeping. Peacefully.

He wanted to be as certain as her breathing — but he wasn’t.

He went to the window.

The plan was simple: climb out, jump down, leave. But when he opened the window and looked down, sharp panic burned through him. Everything looked much lower than it had during the day. His feet recoiled instinctively. He stepped back.

Instead, he went downstairs. Walked through the hallway, barely breathing.

In the kitchen, he opened the window. There was hardly any height there. He sat on the edge, slipped down… and managed to twist his ankle.

“Fuck…” he whispered, gritting his teeth in pain.

He limped toward the Browns’ house, cursing everything — his plan, the night, this damn Halloween.

Amy and Simon were the first to spot him. Amy waved cheerfully… but when she saw that he was alone, her hand dropped immediately. Disappointment flashed in her eyes.

“Alex, where’s Jessie?” she asked, frowning.

“She… doesn’t feel well. Stayed home,” he lied.

His lips felt heavy, like lead. Every word cut into his heart — he was lying to her, lying to all of them. Lying to himself.

“Oh well, it’ll be more fun without her anyway,” Simon muttered, rolling his eyes.

“At least it definitely won’t be more fun with you,” Amy shot back instantly, without even looking at him.

Mark walked up to Alex, clapped him on the shoulder, and pulled him into a brief hug. His face glowed with genuine warmth. Alex felt something inside him loosen.

But Amy watched them — and grew sad. Why did Mark smile so easily at Alex, yet stay cold with her? Didn’t she deserve attention too?

Paula, observing from the side, didn’t miss her chance to strike:

“Alex, why so tense? Don’t tell me you’re scared, hmm?” she drawled with a crooked, fox-like smile.

But Simon crossed the line. His grin turned venomous:

“What stupid questions, Paula? He’s just a kid. Should be lying in bed, not wandering around at night with other brats.”

Alex clenched his fists. But before he could respond, Cheryl did it for him:

“Simon, what the hell are you saying?! Stop it — now!”

Her voice rang with fury.

“You were their age once too! Just because your life was crap doesn’t mean theirs has to be!”

Simon went silent. His face hardened. He spat at Alex’s feet and turned away, walking off.

It was a blow. To the heart. To his self-respect.

Alex felt something break inside him.

But Paula decided to finish him off:

“Better your sister had come instead of you. At least she wouldn’t be boring.”

A hit. The second one. Precise. Deep.

His breath caught. He wanted to turn around and run. Right now. Like before. Like always.

He had started to believe it was all behind him. That he’d found people. That he’d escaped.

And now — everything again: humiliation. Rejection. Tears.

The tears really did rise. His nostrils burned. His chest tightened. One more second — and he would crack.

But at that exact moment — Mark hugged him.

Silently. Gently. Steadily.

“I’ll never turn my back on you. I promise,” he whispered.

Those words pierced straight through the armor.

Alex hugged him back tightly, not holding back the lump in his throat or the moisture in his eyes. It wasn’t a breakdown. It was release.

He turned around.

Ahead was the group.

They were already walking down the dark street, along a fence, toward the abandoned house. Mark loosened his grip slightly but kept a hand on Alex’s shoulder. He smiled — kindly, sincerely.

Alex wiped away a tear. But this time — from relief.

He had been wrong. He did have a real friend.

“I still think this is a bad idea! I don’t want to go in there!” Amy exclaimed, stopping abruptly. “Walking around places where maniacs live or… ghosts?! That’s horrible!”

Paula rolled her eyes and smirked:

“Ha-ha, you’re funny. What ghosts, Amy? Just say you don’t want to walk around without your little friend and be done with it.”

A pause. The wind tossed her hair as she added irritably:

“You annoy me sometimes, Amy. Makes me want to just… smash your head in. Honestly though, I wouldn’t go without Jessie either.”

“No! That’s not it!” Amy snapped, her eyes flashing. “I’m genuinely afraid of ghosts. And that’s not up for discussion!”

Mark, walking a little behind them, scoffed:

“How can you believe in something that doesn’t exist?” he said tiredly, with a hint of mockery.

“And if you see a ghost — will you believe then?” Simon sneered, sliding his gaze over his brother.

“Don’t even try to scare me. You won’t succeed anyway,” Mark shot back, snorting and turning away.

They walked in silence for a while. Only footsteps crunched over the damp, trampled ground. The wind picked up, weaving through bare branches, howling like a moan.

Amy walked with a furrowed brow. Why had Jessie stayed home? What wasn’t Alex telling her? And… why had Mark become so distant? When had he pulled away?

Alex trudged along with his head lowered, as if replaying the entire evening on a loop: Jessie, lies, windows, hurt, pain — and Mark.

He could still feel Mark’s hand on his shoulder, like an anchor keeping him from sinking.

Simon glanced at him from under his brows, occasionally shooting looks at Cheryl, who walked slightly ahead. Her face was focused, but there was a faint smile in her eyes — as if she were anticipating something forbidden.

Alex couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Suddenly, Cheryl stopped sharply and raised her hand.

“Look!” she shouted. “There it is. The haunted house!”

All eyes turned forward.

Before them stood a dark mass. The house loomed over the trees like a grim giant. Two stories tall, crooked, with blackened windows — lurking, waiting.

The roof sagged, one beam jutting out like a broken fang. Rusty shutters either rattled in the wind — or to someone’s breath. The brick walls were webbed with cracks, moss crept from beneath the foundation, and somewhere deep inside the house something sounded… dull.

As if the house were breathing.

Dry trees twisted around it — skeletal, crooked, branches rustling like claws. The wind howled, clawing at the fence, making it creak like an old skeleton. And on the walls — shadows. At first blurred, like clouds… then jerking, as if running.

“They say this house is wrapped in legends,” Cheryl began. “A family lived here — a husband, a wife, and three children. One day they all just disappeared. Later they found everyone except the wife and daughter… Dead. Brutally murdered and discarded like trash. It’s believed their souls stayed here. Wandering, searching for bodies to be reborn. That was their belief. They sought out those who were different. Outsiders. Desperate ones…”

“Stop it right now! You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You know I’m afraid of this ghost crap and you keep going!” Amy shouted, on the verge of losing it.

“You knew where you were going. It’s Halloween — these stories are relevant like never before. Why are you always unhappy about something?” Cheryl asked, staring straight at her.

“None of your business…” Amy snapped, turning away sharply. Her voice trembled despite her effort to stay composed. The autumn night seemed to grow even darker.

“So are we going in or not?” Simon interrupted. “I’m not standing here till morning.”

He shivered, as if eager to get the walk over with as quickly as possible. The night wrapped around them in sticky silence, where every word sounded louder than it should.

“And how are we getting in? The fence is two meters high, there’s no entrance,” Mark said, surveying the peeling walls and black stains on the bricks that looked like dried blood.

“The fence is flimsy — just like you, little brother,” Simon snapped. “We’ll knock it down. Enough talking!”

He waved Alex and Mark over. They approached reluctantly, exchanging glances — each one full of unease.

“One, two… three!” Simon shouted.

They charged the barrier — but it turned out to be sturdier than it looked. Impact — and they bounced back like rubber balls, dropping a couple of muffled curses.

“Bitch… again!” Simon barked irritably, rubbing his shoulder.

Then a scoff sounded from the side.

Paula, standing right by the gate, shook her head in annoyance, as if watching a children’s play.

Without saying a word, she flipped back the old, rusty latch, which answered with a sinister creak in the night silence. The gate swung open on its own — like it had been waiting for them.

“Couldn’t you have said that earlier?!” Simon growled through clenched teeth. He hated looking stupid.

“Move it!” he barked, without looking back.

He went first, straightening his shoulders. Reaching the porch, he swung his leg and kicked the door with full force — it groaned as if in pain, cracked dully, and swung ajar, releasing thick clouds of dust, like the breath of a long-dead creature.

When the dust settled, they found themselves in the center of a ruined hall.

Scattered boards lay across the floor, peeling wallpaper hung in tatters, sticky cobwebs clung to the corners, and vile insects scurried back and forth as if they had lived here for centuries. The air was heavy with the stale stench of rot and age, making it feel as though the house itself was breathing them in. Most of the furniture had been taken out long ago, but here and there — like relics of a former life — remnants of past luxury still lingered: a cracked mirror staring into emptiness, a half-dismantled dresser with broken drawers, and a dusty chandelier swaying gloomily in time with the drafts.

“Please, be careful. Watch your step,” Cheryl’s voice sounded tense, as if she herself didn’t fully believe in the safety of this walk. “Don’t fall anywhere, and don’t wander off too far. If you find something strange — call out. Most important — don’t split up.”

“Wasn’t planning to, you know,” Paula muttered, scanning the flaking walls with the look of someone already tired of the whole performance.

“Then let’s split up,” Simon suddenly proposed firmly. “Mark and Paula — to the attic. Alex and Amy — check the second floor. Cheryl and I — the first.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Amy snapped, stopping dead in her tracks.

“Only just noticing?” Mark smirked, shooting her a sideways glance, though a shadow of concern still flickered in his eyes.

“Simon, this is a bad idea. They’re kids. If something happens, the responsibility’s on us,” Cheryl said anxiously, though her voice wavered — as if she already knew arguing was pointless.

“They’re grown-up kids,” Simon scoffed without even turning around. “Amy, you remember what I taught you, right?”

Amy let out a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Groin strike, throat strike, and run until the cops show up.”

“Smart girl!” he said proudly, like a teacher pleased with a student during an exam.

“Idiots…” Paula muttered and sharply headed for the stairs, dragging along a reluctant Mark.

Soon after, Alex and Amy followed them. Their footsteps on the creaking floorboards sounded like echoes of чужие steps in the emptiness. Cheryl stayed behind with Simon. A faint echo rolled through the empty rooms, as if the house had accepted its guests… and was now listening closely.

A tense silence settled inside. Only somewhere near the ceiling old beams crackled, the sound resembling the grumbling of an ancient skeleton that had lain too long and was about to wake.

“I don’t understand why we agreed to this at all,” Amy grumbled, carefully climbing the shaky stairs behind Alex. Each step responded with a crunch beneath her feet, as if the wood might give way any second.

“Splitting up like in a horror movie… what could possibly go wrong?”

Alex smirked but didn’t turn around.

“Believe it or not, you’re acting exactly like the heroine of that kind of movie right now. First you complain, then you’re the first to find trouble. Just be careful, okay?”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Amy snorted, adjusting her hood, “but honestly, I’m already freaked out.”

They reached the second floor, where dust hung thick in the air like fog spilled across the floor. The air itself felt heavy and stale, as if the house were holding its breath, watching their every move. Old doors hung crookedly on rusted hinges, letting out quiet moans at the slightest gust of wind. Broken furniture, filthy scraps of fabric, and torn pieces of unfamiliar newspapers littered the floor — like traces of a life cut short suddenly and forever. The rooms felt uninhabited, yet each carried something unsettling. A sensation — as if someone were standing in the corner, watching. Invisible. Cold. Patient.

“Look, this must’ve been a kid’s room,” Alex whispered, peering into one of the rooms and stepping over a half-collapsed threshold. “See the crib?”

“M-mm… and a doll…” Amy hesitantly pointed to a battered toy sitting in the corner. One of the doll’s eyes was missing, and its face was cracked as if it were about to split into a sinister smile. “Oh damn… that’s creepy.”

Alex slowly approached a small table where a music box stood. It looked alien amid the surrounding decay, as if someone had placed it there deliberately not long ago. Beneath the thick layer of dust, ornate carved patterns were barely visible. He ran a finger across the lid, leaving a clean streak — and suddenly the box creaked open on its own with a sharp squeal. A melody spilled out — thin, chiming, sorrowful.

It cut through the silence like a blade, filling the room with a transparent sadness that carried echoes of something childlike, but lost. The notes trembled in the air, as if the house were remembering.

“It’s… beautiful…” Amy whispered, stepping closer. “But scary. Gives me chills.”

Inside the box, a ballerina figurine spun slowly. She rotated steadily, reflected in a cloudy little mirror, as if she were dancing not for them, but for someone — on the other side. Alex leaned in closer and noticed a strange symbol carved into the inside of the lid — a crossed-out eye, etched crudely, yet with a kind of manic precision.

“Have you ever seen a symbol like this?” he asked, pointing at the lid.

“No,” Amy frowned. “But it looks like… a warning. Like ‘don’t look.’ Or ‘don’t let it in’…”

The melody stopped abruptly. And with it — everything seemed to freeze. The air grew dense, viscous, like the moment before a storm. The space felt as though it pressed closer, squeezing them in invisible arms.

And then…

A woman’s scream.

Piercing. Ripping the throat raw. So saturated with fear it felt suffocating. It came from above — from the attic.

“Paula?!” Amy went pale. “That was her!”

Alex bolted, and together they rushed for the stairs. Heavy footsteps echoed through the house, as if it weren’t just two of them running, but dozens of feet pounding the corridors.

Coming toward them were the alarmed Simon and Cheryl, faces tense, hands instinctively clenched into fists.

“What was that scream?” Simon demanded, instantly slipping into action mode.

“From the attic!” Alex shouted. “Paula’s up there!”

They all charged upward together. The steps groaned beneath their feet, and with every step fear tightened around the throat even more. At the attic entrance stood Mark — pale as a sheet, his gaze glassy, lips trembling. He didn’t even try to say anything — as if he had completely lost the ability to speak.

Deeper in the attic, near the far wall, almost swallowed by darkness, Paula was sitting. Curled into herself, arms wrapped tightly around her body, she trembled like an aspen leaf and looked smaller than usual. Around her, the darkness seemed to thicken — dense, alive, watching.

“What happened?!” Cheryl rushed to her, dropping to her knees beside her. “Paula, are you okay?”

“I… I went blind for a second…” Paula’s lips barely obeyed her. Her voice sounded hollow, as if her soul still hadn’t returned from whatever she had seen. “And then everything changed… Ash… ruins… darkness… And I heard a voice… It was calling me… by name…”

Her words sliced through the air like cold needles. The attic became quieter than silence itself. Even the others’ breathing sounded unbearably loud.

“God…” Cheryl wrapped her friend in a tight, crushing hug, stroking her back. “It’s okay. It’s okay… You were just scared. Just your imagination, sweetheart.”

“Imagination?!” Simon snapped, stepping forward sharply. “Have you all lost your minds? A scream like that because of hallucinations? Seriously?!”

Paula jerked her head up. Her tear-filled eyes flashed with fury.

“Shut up. You should’ve crawled in there yourself — see how much you’d enjoy it!”

“Enough!” Cheryl said harshly, stepping between them and spreading her arms wide. “We need to stick together, not start tearing each other apart in a cursed house.”

A moment — graveyard silence. And then…

From behind an old, dusty wardrobe came Amy’s muffled voice:

“Guys! There’s something here! Hurry!”

They rushed to the corner of the attic, where Amy was already on her knees, tossing aside old rags and thick clumps of cobwebs. Beneath the junk lay a stack of yellowed newspapers — brittle, fragile, their corners looking as if time itself had scorched them.

“Newspapers?” Alex frowned. “Seriously?”

“Not just newspapers. Look!” Amy pointed at the headline on the front page:

“Scientists from a neighboring town claim they have created a mechanism capable of bringing the dead back to life.”

“This is fake,” Mark muttered with disgust. “I don’t even want to read this crap.”

“Wait…” Jessie cut in, taking one of the papers and carefully turning the page. Her fingers were trembling. “There are names here. And photos… And this symbol — it’s the same one that was on the music box…”

Alex tensed instantly. He recognized the symbol at once. The same crossed-out eye carved into the wood. His heart seemed to drop into his chest.

“It’s all connected…” he breathed, more to himself than anyone else. “The house, the symbol, the music box, now these experiments… This isn’t a coincidence.”

“Alright, that’s it!” Simon waved his hand as if trying to slice through the layered horror. “I didn’t sign up for some cheap horror quest. We’re getting out of here — before the floor collapses or someone else loses their mind.”

A heavy silence settled over the attic. They exchanged looks — some anxious, some doubtful, some with dull fear in their eyes. As if each of them already knew: getting out wouldn’t be that simple.

“He’s right,” Cheryl said quietly. “We need to leave.”

No one argued.

They started heading downstairs, trying not to look around. Every step echoed, and it felt as though the house heard it. It creaked, sighed, as if displeased by its guests’ departure. Shadows on the walls stretched, crawled after them. Somewhere above, something creaked softly — maybe a beam… maybe not.

When the door slammed shut behind them with a loud, disgruntled groan, they all exhaled at once — some out loud, some silently. Only then did they realize how tense they’d been.

Paula pressed herself wordlessly against Cheryl. No one laughed, no one argued. Even Simon, who usually never missed a chance to make a sarcastic remark, walked in complete silence. His gaze was lowered, his hands clenched into fists.

Alex trailed at the very back. Step by step — each thought pressing down on him harder than the last. What gnawed at him wasn’t just the anxiety from what they’d seen. He felt something bigger growing inside him.

Guilt.

He had lied. To his sister. To his parents. He had let them down. And worst of all — he felt it wasn’t over. The house hadn’t stayed behind. It had followed them.

Fragments of Paula’s words flared in his mind like damaged film: “ash… darkness… it called me…” The melody from the music box played softly inside him, as if someone had jammed a scratched record straight into the center of his skull. And the images — the shadows crawling in corners, the darkness that lived in the attic — didn’t fade. They clung to him like old cobwebs.

When he reached home, he quietly circled the building and stopped beneath a familiar window. A thin night breeze lazily stirred the bushes. Alex opened the sash and carefully climbed inside. His feet touched the kitchen floor — cold, smooth. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Only the clock on the wall, like a pulse, counted out the night’s silence.

He walked deeper inside, into the room where Jessie was sleeping. Her small body was completely wrapped in the blanket, as if she were hiding from the world. He stepped closer, bent down, and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry, kiddo…” he whispered. “I just wanted you to be safe…”

He lay down on his bed. But sleep wouldn’t come.

Something uneasy spread inside him, like a dark ink stain bleeding across paper. His gaze settled on his backpack. It stood where he’d left it — but somehow it felt closer, as if it were reaching for him.

Inside it lay the music box.

He hadn’t told anyone about it. Just slipped it away while everyone was distracted. Why? What for? He couldn’t explain it himself. He just… couldn’t leave it behind. Couldn’t not take it.

“There was something about that melody…” he thought. “Something that calls…”

He closed his eyes. The ballerina.

In his mind, she began to spin slowly, smoothly, against a dim light. Her skirt trembled like flame. Spinning… spinning…

And suddenly — she stopped. Abruptly. Without a sound. And — silence.

Alex cried out and jolted upright, breathing hard. His entire body was soaked with sweat, his heart pounding wildly. He dragged a hand over his face.

The eyes.

The ballerina’s eyes.

Black. Empty. Bottomless. And in those eyes…

…he saw himself.

---

⠀

⠀

CHAPTER FOUR. THE BLACK EVENING

Alex didn’t remember how he got home, what had happened, or what was happening now. The only thing he remembered was that not long ago he had been humming the melody he’d heard in the abandoned house — and now he was standing outside. Only his surroundings had changed. He didn’t recognize the city he had been living in for several months.

At first, it seemed to Alex like an ordinary dawn, but the sky shifted from dark crimson to a pitch-black, abyssal shade. Heavy clouds drifted slowly between the mountains, giving the already ominous peaks an even more terrifying look. A cold wind chased fallen leaves across the damp ground, sometimes tearing fresh ones from the wildly swaying trees. Lightning flashed again and again between the clouds. This didn’t resemble normal autumn weather at all.

In the middle of the road, walking unhurriedly, was a girl who paid no attention to the raging storm. Jessica walked forward, scanning her surroundings as if she were searching for someone.

She examined every corner of the street yet moved straight ahead with confidence, as if she had a destination — a specific place she needed to reach. The wind grew stronger, the clouds thickened. The sun was nowhere to be seen. Streetlights didn’t work, and not a single house had lights on. Only during flashes of lightning could the surroundings be seen for a brief moment.

A cold, fine rain began to fall from the sky. Drops hit her eyes, forcing Jess to shield them with her hands. She stopped in the middle of the road and spread her arms wide. Jessica was enjoying her freedom. Her clothes clung heavily to her body from the rain, while the cold wind circled her, as if blowing away all sorrow, pain, and suffering.

Footsteps sounded ahead. The wind died down. The rain stopped abruptly. Time itself seemed to freeze.

Jessica slowly opened her eyes and looked forward. She froze when she saw Alex walking alone. As if she weren’t seeing her brother — but her worst enemy.

The boy lifted his head and noticed his sister. He was terrified that she was alone, late in the evening, in the middle of the street. He called out to her, wanted to run toward her — but stopped. Alex didn’t understand what was happening. Why was she here? What was she doing alone in this weather?

He stared at her face. Lightning lit up the street — and now he was certain. It was her.

She didn’t look away. Instead, she forced a smile and suddenly burst into laughter — producing inhuman sounds. From her mouth flowed a thick, black liquid, dark as the sky itself. It dripped downward, falling onto the wet asphalt and evaporating before it even touched the ground.

The girl frowned, let out a hysterical scream — and suddenly ran into a nearby house.

Alex screamed at the top of his lungs, calling her name, but Jessica didn’t react, as if he didn’t exist. Only when the door slammed shut behind her did he rush after her.

Standing on the porch of a small one-story house, Alex looked around. At first, he saw only a garage and a neat flower bed. But when lightning flashed again and illuminated the building, he noticed Jessica in the window. She was calm. Unbothered. She smiled widely and… disappeared along with the light.

“What the hell is going on here…?” Alex whispered.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. Gathering his courage, he reached for the handle. The door opened unexpectedly easily.

A long, dark corridor stretched before him. Somewhere deep inside, a dim light flickered. Doors to rooms lined the sides. Wind from outside crept under his clothes, chilling him to the bone. A draft rushed through the corridor, creating an eerie hum in the rooms.

Alex hesitantly stepped forward — and then a hoarse but calm voice came from around the corner:

“What are you doing here, who are you? Although… eh, never mind. Come in quickly, or you’ll flood the porch with rain — and catch a cold yourself. Such a storm, and you’re wandering the streets…” said an elderly woman standing in the shadows.

Alex went numb. He didn’t know what to say. The woman continued, her tone gentle:

“It’s all right, dear. Grandma will take care of you. I haven’t had guests in so long…”

Alex slowly came back to himself. Hesitating, he studied the old woman. She looked like a perfectly ordinary grandmother — kind, warm. Maybe Jessica knew her? He nodded and stepped inside. The old woman shut the door.

He scanned the room, searching for his sister.

“Where are you from, grandson? Do you live nearby? What were you doing outside so late, and in such weather? What brought you here?” she asked, but Alex remained silent.

Noticing this, she grew a bit embarrassed and turned away. She went to a dresser, lit a kerosene lamp, and headed into the next room. Alex followed.

“I live nearby. I was walking home after hanging out with friends. I saw my sister… she’s here, right? That’s why I came in,” he finally said, trying to sound confident.

“What sister?” the old woman frowned. “You must be mistaken, dear. It’s just me here. No one has visited me in ten years.”

“No! I saw her with my own eyes — she ran into your house!” Alex insisted. His voice trembled.

The old woman looked at him with sympathy and mild pity, like someone listening to a delusion.

“You’re probably overtired. Maybe you imagined it. But if you want, we can walk through the house. You’ll see for yourself.”

Alex agreed without hesitation.

The old woman nodded approvingly, her face spreading into a wide, almost maternal smile. She turned and slowly walked down the corridor. Alex followed.

The house turned out to be surprisingly modern. Clean, neat — yet dark and oppressive. Shadows clung to the corners as if alive. Alex thought he saw shapes moving along the ceiling in the faint glow of the lamp — something flickering in the half-light, something inhuman.

From deep within the house came barely audible sounds — either crying or moaning. So quiet they could be mistaken for imagination. The paintings on the walls seemed to watch them. Their dull eyes followed every movement.

The old woman suddenly began talking about herself. Her voice sounded even, slightly tired, as if from far away:

“I didn’t always live here. I moved to this city with my stepmother. Back then, it felt temporary… but I stayed forever. I found my husband here… and lost him here too…” her voice faltered, but she continued. “Before that, I lived in Mitalure. The city was… so-so. I was a top student, a beauty, smart. My parents, my brothers — they all stayed there. And I… I’m here now. Alone. Always alone.”

Alex followed her as if in a dream. He wasn’t listening. He was searching for Jessica. His gaze darted to the corners, into the shadows. Yes, hope was fading, but he clung to it. He wanted to believe his sister was here, somewhere in this strange house.

The old woman suddenly stopped. Turned around. For a moment, she looked at him with clear sadness. Then, without a word, she sharply turned and disappeared down one of the side corridors. Alex was left alone.

He felt relieved. Now nothing stood in his way.

He began opening doors one by one, peering into rooms. All of them were strange — too clean, too lifeless. It felt like the house lived, but no one lived in it.

The old woman was nowhere to be found. A thought crept into his mind: what if she was hiding something? What if she was keeping Jessica here? What if she kidnapped her?

He shook it off. Nonsense. She was just an old woman… right?

Only one door remained.

Alex stopped in front of it, his heart pounding wildly. He wanted to believe Jessica would be behind it — laughing, angry, but alive. Or… something else. Something he wasn’t ready to see.

He took a deep breath and, without giving himself time to think, pulled the handle. The door opened by itself — softly, silently, as if it had been waiting.

The room beyond was unlike any other he had seen.

Everything here was… unnatural.

The walls were the color of dried blood — dark, almost burgundy, as if coated in a thin layer of dust. Paintings hung on them, but instead of people — grotesque, twisted creatures with faces turned inside out, bodies stitched together from scraps of flesh and pain.

In the center stood a massive leather couch. But the leather… it was wrong. Too smooth. Too alive. Alex felt sick.

Near the couch stood a small table with black-and-white photographs. Opposite it — a huge wall-sized mirror. Its frame was made of glass, decorated with bizarre crack-like patterns.

Alex stepped inside. The room was empty. No Jessica. No old woman. He checked under the couch, behind the table, even behind the curtains — nothing.

Then he looked into the mirror.

And froze.

In the reflection, he saw… not himself.

It was Jessica.

She stared straight at him. Her eyes were full of anxiety, but her lips were smiling. He staggered back — and she did the same. As if she were his reflection.

He slowly stepped closer, touched the cool surface. The mirror was real. He looked around — he was alone in the room.

“Jess…” he whispered, staring at the reflection.

Suddenly — movement.

In the doorway behind Jessica’s reflection, a silhouette appeared. Tall. Unnatural. In a single violent motion, it lunged at her.

“NO!” Alex screamed and recoiled from the mirror.