The hallways of Dymphna Academy were no longer alive with laughter—they buzzed with whispers. Students huddled in cliques, their voices sharp and poisoned. Eyes followed Gemma wherever she walked, as though her silence had become a disease that spread through the air.
"She doesn't talk because she knows something," one boy muttered in the cafeteria, loud enough for others to hear.
"My cousin says she cursed the school," a girl hissed.
"She's the reason people keep vanishing."
A tray clattered to the ground as Gabriel shoved his chair back. His knuckles whitened around the edge of the table.
"Say it again," he growled at the boy who had spoken first.
The boy—slim, with a cocky smirk—shrugged. "Everyone knows it. Your sister brought this curse. Maybe you're part of it too."
Before the boy could blink, Gabriel's fist slammed into his jaw. Gasps filled the cafeteria, and tables scraped as students jumped back. Teachers rushed forward, shouting, but the damage was done: blood on the boy's lip, fury blazing in Gabriel's eyes.
That night, the Moore household was unusually quiet. Lucy avoided Gemma entirely, her face tight with unspoken bitterness. George sat in the living room, unreadable behind his paper. Mia and Gabriel shared a room, the only place they felt safe to speak.
Mia curled up on her bed, hugging her knees. The dim lamp flickered once, like it was straining to stay alive.
"Gabe," she whispered. "They're turning on her. On us. It's not fair."
Gabriel sat on the edge of his bed, still seething. His knuckles were raw. "Let them talk. If they think I'll sit and listen while they spit lies about Gemma, they're wrong."
Mia's eyes glistened. "But what if… what if they're right? Not about Gemma—never Gemma—but about something being wrong here? The stairs, the missing kids, the screaming—what if it all really is connected?"
He turned to her sharply. "Then we protect her even more. Whatever's happening, it's not her fault. You know that, Mia. She's been carrying something for years, and no one ever cared to ask why."
Mia looked down, twisting her fingers nervously. "I'm scared."
Gabriel softened, leaning forward. "Me too. But if we fall apart, who does she have?"
From the other room, a faint creak echoed—Gemma's footsteps. She lingered outside their door for a moment, as if she'd heard everything, then moved silently away.
Mia shivered. "She heard us."
Gabriel stared at the door, jaw tight. "Good. Maybe she knows she's not alone anymore."