The stairwell buzzed with chatter between classes. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, the air thick with restless teenage energy. And then—
A scream.
"Move! Somebody help!"
Books scattered as a girl tumbled violently down the staircase, limbs striking metal rails before she crashed to the ground floor. Silence hung for a heartbeat, then erupted into shrieks.
"I saw it!" a boy cried, his voice cracking. "She tripped on her own!"
"No!" another shouted from higher up the stairs, face pale. "I swear something pushed her! Like—like a hand!"
Teachers swarmed the scene, pulling students back, forming a shaky barrier around the girl's unmoving body.
Later, in the staff room, voices clashed like weapons.
"This is the Third incident this week!"
"She wasn't careful—"
"Careful?" a teacher snapped. "She was shoved! Ask the kids!"
Gabriel, lingering near the doorway, clenched his fists as the arguments spiraled.
"You're all chasing shadows," another muttered. "Accidents happen."
Gabriel's jaw tightened. Accidents. The same word used when Zoë vanished, when strange notes appeared, when whispers followed Gemma everywhere.
His stomach twisted. He slipped out before anyone noticed, the teachers' voices still echoing behind him.
By evening, the whispers had spread. Parents' voices rose in the parking lot.
"Three students hurt in a month? What is happening here?"
"If the school can't keep them safe, we'll take our children elsewhere!"
Gabriel lingered by the gates, watching. His eyes slid to Gemma, standing alone beneath the fading light. Still silent. Still untouchable. But every look, every whisper seemed to spear her directly.
And Gabriel felt it—the weight of something pressing closer, more dangerous with each passing day.