Sophie had never been afraid of herself before.
But now, when she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she didn't trust what stared back. Her face was hers—the familiar shape of her eyes, the curve of her mouth—but there was something faint beneath it. A shadow that lingered too long, that smirked when she didn't.
She splashed water on her face, gripping the sink until her knuckles went white. It's in your head. Just exhaustion. Just fear.
But deep down, she knew it wasn't. Ethan had planted something inside her during that night at the yard. His words were seeds, and now she could feel them rooting under her skin.
Behind her, Marcus stirred from the bed. He hadn't slept well either. His body jerked at invisible tugs, as if Ethan were pulling him from far away. Sophie rushed to him, her hand brushing his shoulder.
He blinked up at her, dazed. "You look pale."
She forced a smile. "So do you."
He managed a weak laugh, then grimaced, clutching his ribs. She helped him sit, brushing his hair from his eyes. Every bruise on his body screamed Ethan's name.
"Marcus," she whispered, "do you ever… hear him when he's not there?"
His gaze sharpened. "Why?"
"No reason," she lied quickly.
But his expression told her he didn't believe her. "He's talking to you too, isn't he?"
Her throat closed. She wanted to deny it, but the silence betrayed her. Marcus's jaw tightened, fear flashing across his face.
"This is what he does," he muttered. "He spreads. He infects. He's not content to live in me—he'll take everyone close. Especially you."
Sophie cupped his face. "Then we fight harder."
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. "I don't know if I have harder left."
The words pierced her like knives. But she couldn't let him see her fear—not when he was drowning.
At school, Sophie's world began to unravel further. She walked the halls, but voices whispered her name when no one was near. Lockers slammed shut behind her without hands touching them. In class, her notebook opened on its own, the ink twisting across the page into words she hadn't written:
You can't save him if you don't give in.
She slammed the book shut, heart racing. When she looked up, she caught her teacher staring at her strangely, as though she'd been talking to herself.
By the time she made it back to Marcus that afternoon, she was shaking. She dropped her bag by the bed, crawling into his arms without a word.
He held her, confusion etching his face. "What happened?"
"I think he's inside me," she whispered, trembling.
Marcus went still. "No."
"I saw it. The words—he's using me like paper. Like a door."
Marcus gripped her shoulders, panic rising in his eyes. "Then you can't be near me. If he's in both of us, he'll—he'll win. Sophie, you have to stay away from me."
Her stomach dropped. "Don't you dare say that. Don't you dare."
"I can't risk it—"
"You're not pushing me away!" Her voice cracked, but it was fierce. "If he wants to split us, he'll have to tear us apart with his bare hands."
Marcus's lips parted, trembling as though he wanted to argue. But instead he collapsed into her embrace, burying his face against her neck. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," Sophie whispered, even though she wasn't sure she believed it.
That night, the dreams were worse.
She walked down a long corridor, the walls pulsing like veins. At the end stood two doors—one with Marcus's name scratched across it, one with hers. Ethan leaned casually between them, his grin sharp.
"Which will you open first?" he asked.
Sophie froze. "Neither."
"Wrong answer." His voice slithered. "You'll choose eventually. Him or you. That's how it works."
The walls closed in, the doors trembling. Sophie screamed, clawing at the air. "You don't get to make the rules!"
Ethan only laughed, the sound splitting her skull. "I already have."
She jolted awake, Marcus shaking her shoulders. "Sophie! You were screaming."
Tears streaked her face. She clung to him desperately. "He's not stopping. He's inside everything now."
Marcus's expression was grim. "Then maybe the only way out is through."
"What do you mean?"
"We stop running. We stop reacting. We go to him—and we finish it."
Sophie's blood ran cold. "That's suicide."
"Maybe," Marcus said, his voice hollow. "But if we don't, he'll hollow us out until there's nothing left."
Sophie searched his face. He meant it. And worse—he might be right.
Sophie sat on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, while Marcus paced the room like a caged animal. His movements were sharp, restless, every step echoing the storm in his head.
"We go to him," Marcus said again, as if repetition would make the decision easier to swallow. "We take the fight where he lives."
Sophie's arms tightened around herself. "You're asking me to walk into his lair. To put myself exactly where he wants me."
Marcus stopped, his shadow stretching long against the wall. "He already has you, Sophie. Both of us. The longer we wait, the deeper he burrows. At least this way, we choose the terms."
"Do we?" she whispered. "Or does he just let us think that?"
Silence fell heavy between them. Marcus's breathing was ragged, his fists clenched. For the first time, Sophie saw not just fear in him but a dangerous resolve, a willingness to throw himself into the flames if it meant ending the game.
And she realized something that made her stomach twist: she would follow him. Even if it meant walking into the dark with no way back.
"Fine," she said at last. Her voice was steady, though her heart pounded. "But if we do this, we do it together. No heroics. No sacrifices. You don't get to trade yourself for me."
Marcus's eyes softened, but there was something haunted in them. "I can't promise that."
Sophie stood, grabbing his wrist. "Then promise me this—you'll fight to stay. For me. Every second, every breath. Promise me."
His throat worked as he nodded. "I promise."
That night, Sophie prepared in silence. She filled her notebook with page after page of words—not prayers, not spells, but declarations. You are mine. I will not give you up. You are stronger than him. She pressed each line with such force that the pen tore the paper.
Marcus sharpened a piece of metal he'd stolen from the trainyard, turning it into a jagged blade. Sophie hated the sight of it, but she said nothing. Maybe they needed more than words.
When midnight came, they left together.
The streets were empty, the town asleep, but Sophie swore the shadows leaned closer as they walked. She clutched Marcus's hand tightly, afraid he might slip into them at any moment.
The trainyard loomed ahead, silent and skeletal. The rusted cars stood like tombstones, their iron husks groaning in the wind.
Ethan was waiting.
He stood on top of a freight car, his silhouette sharp against the moon. His grin was wide, his voice carrying like a hymn. "Welcome, my darlings. Took you long enough."
Sophie's stomach twisted, but she forced her voice to hold. "We're not yours."
"Not yet." Ethan leapt down, landing in a crouch. He rose slowly, dusting himself off as if the earth itself obeyed him. His eyes glowed faintly, a reflection of Marcus's own when the shadows tugged too hard.
Marcus stepped forward, the blade glinting in his hand. "This ends tonight."
Ethan's laughter echoed off the metal, cold and sharp. "Oh, brother. It never ends. You cut me down, I rise again. Because I'm not separate from you—I am you. You kill me, you kill yourself."
Marcus's hand trembled around the blade. Sophie saw the doubt sink in, saw the way Ethan's words dug into him like hooks.
"No!" she shouted, her notebook raised like a weapon. "You're nothing but the sickness he survived. You're not him."
Ethan's grin faltered, just slightly. Sophie pressed harder.
"You're a parasite. You feed, you twist, but you can't exist without him. And I won't let you feed anymore."
The notebook trembled in her grip, the pages fluttering as if caught in an invisible wind. The words she'd written glowed faintly, light bleeding from the ink.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "You think ink will save him again?"
"I don't think," Sophie spat. "I know."
Marcus raised the blade, his voice breaking. "Get out of me."
Ethan only smiled. "Make me."
The yard erupted. Shadows poured from the ground, twisting like serpents. Marcus swung the blade, slicing through them, but every cut only multiplied the darkness. Sophie screamed his name, holding the notebook aloft, the words blazing brighter.
Marcus stumbled, shadows lashing at his arms, dragging him down. Sophie ran to him, slamming the notebook against his chest. "You are mine! Do you hear me? You are mine!"
The shadows recoiled, hissing, smoke burning into the air. Ethan snarled, his form flickering like a candle in the wind.
Marcus gasped, clutching Sophie's hand, his voice hoarse. "Don't let go."
"Never."
The light from the notebook spread, pushing the shadows back inch by inch. Ethan screamed, his body unraveling at the edges. "This isn't over!"
Sophie's voice rose above his. "It ends when we say it does!"
With a final scream, Ethan's form shattered into smoke, dissolving into the night.
Silence fell, broken only by Marcus's ragged breaths. He collapsed against Sophie, the blade clattering from his hand.
For a long moment, they didn't move. Sophie held him, her own body shaking. The yard smelled of smoke and iron, the shadows retreating to their corners.
Marcus lifted his head weakly, eyes wet. "Did we… win?"
Sophie pressed her forehead to his. "For tonight."
But in her heart, she wasn't sure. Ethan was gone, but his words lingered, echoing in her skull. You can't separate us. We're a package deal.
And when she glanced down at her notebook, her blood ran cold.
Among the glowing words she had written, one line stood out—one she hadn't put there.
You are mine.
The handwriting wasn't hers.