I woke up the next morning feeling a little stiff throughout my body but mostly normal. The image of the lady in the hallway had slipped from my mind—I figured it was just a weird dream or exhaustion catching up with me. I shook my head, trying to push the memory away.
When I got to the kitchen, the apartment smelled like toast and coffee. My siblings were already there—Liam and Noah bickering quietly over who got the bigger slice of bread, and Grace giggling at something on the table.
"Morning, guys," I said, dropping my bag by the door.
"Morning!" they chorused, looking up at me. I ruffled Grace's hair and grabbed a slice of toast for myself.
Nothing felt out of the ordinary.
Mom was sitting at the table, sipping her coffee. She glanced at me, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"You were up last night, weren't you?" she said, full of concern
I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. My mind raced. She must've heard the creak of my footsteps in the hallway—or maybe something else. And suddenly, I remembered the lady, standing there in the dark, staring at me.
I quickly swallowed, keeping my voice light. "Uh… yeah, couldn't sleep," I said casually. "Just tossing and turning a bit."
Mom's gaze lingered for a moment, concerned, but she didn't press further. "Alright… just don't keep the little ones up with you."
I nodded, deciding not to tell anyone. No way was I going to scare Liam, Noah, or Grace—or even Mom. Some things were better kept to myself for now.
Breakfast was uneventful. We talked about school, chores, and the usual morning nonsense. After cleaning my plate, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door.
Work wasn't too busy today, thankfully. I managed to move through the motions without thinking too much about last night.
During my break, I found Marcus leaning against a stack of crates, munching on an apple. I took a deep breath. "Marcus… something weird happened last night," I said, keeping my voice low.
He looked up, grinning. "Oh boy, here we go. Another one of Ethan's ghost stories?"
I frowned. "No, seriously. I—I saw… something. A lady. She was in my hallway. I—"
Marcus burst out laughing, holding his stomach. "Oh man, look at you!" He leaned closer, eyes squinting. "Dark circles under your eyes! What, you've been up late playing basketball with ghosts now?"
I swallowed hard, feeling my confidence wobble. "I… I'm not joking. I saw her. She just stood there… didn't move… nothing."
He snorted. "Yeah, sure, Ethan. You're overworked. You're tired. You've been running yourself into the ground. It's just your imagination. Happens to the best of us."
I stared at him, feeling that familiar doubt creeping in. Maybe he was right. Maybe it really was just stress, exhaustion, or leftover tension from yesterday. Maybe I was imagining things.
"Yeah… maybe," I muttered, running a hand over my face.
Marcus laughed again and patted my shoulder. "Don't sweat it, man. Keep your eyes on the real world, not ghosts, alright?"
I nodded, forcing a small and weird smile, but my stomach twisted. Was I losing it? Was I really seeing things that weren't there?
The rest of the day passed slowly. I moved crates, checked stock, and tried to ignore my racing thoughts. When evening came, I walked home, heavier than usual, both physically and mentally.
Dinner was quiet but nice. Mom had cooked chicken and rice, and my siblings chattered about school and homework. I joined them, trying to act normal. My fork moved mechanically, my eyes occasionally drifting to the pendant tucked under my shirt.
Later, after helping clear the table, I went to bed. The room was dark and quiet. I stared at the ceiling, thinking over everything that had happened. The lady, the pendant, Marcus's laughter, the doubt gnawing at me…
Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I was just stressed, exhausted, overworked, and letting my imagination run wild.
But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't normal. Something was watching, waiting, and somehow connected to that pendant.
I closed my eyes, trying to sleep, but my mind kept spinning, questioning itself, wondering if I was delusional—or if something real was out there.