The notebook lay on the desk, its cover rising and falling as though something inside was drawing air. Sophie couldn't look away. Each slow inhale seemed timed to her own, until her chest tightened with the certainty that she wasn't breathing alone anymore. Ethan was tethered to her now, as close as her pulse, as steady as her lungs.
Marcus noticed her stillness first. He followed her gaze, then cursed under his breath, crossing the room in two strides. He snatched the notebook from the desk and hurled it against the wall. It struck hard, the sound too heavy for paper, and landed with a thud that rattled through the floor.
But the cover still moved.
"Get out," Marcus hissed. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles split. "Get out of her."
The book didn't answer. Instead, Sophie felt the words in her chest, whispered against her ribs: I am already here.
Her knees buckled. She staggered back, clutching at the wall, gasping as though she had been punched. Marcus caught her just before she collapsed, his arms shaking.
"What did he say?"
Sophie's lips trembled. "He's inside me. He's… breathing with me."
Marcus's grip tightened until it hurt. "No. No, I won't let him. I'll tear him out if I have to."
Sophie's eyes burned with tears. "What if tearing him out tears me too?"
Marcus froze. The terror in his face was worse than anything Ethan could conjure. For a long moment, he said nothing, only held her, rocking slightly as though to lull her back from the edge.
But Sophie knew the truth—something irreversible had happened. Ethan wasn't just haunting Marcus anymore. He was fusing himself into her.
The days that followed blurred into dread. Sophie felt Ethan at odd moments, his presence brushing her skin like invisible fingers, his voice humming low under her thoughts. Sometimes when she spoke, she wasn't sure the words were hers. She caught Marcus watching her with wary eyes, like he was afraid she'd turn into something else before his very sight.
One night, as she brushed her teeth, she looked up and found her reflection not mimicking her. The girl in the mirror tilted her head, smiled with Ethan's smile, and whispered through her foamed mouth: "You'll see, Sophie. He was only the beginning."
The toothbrush fell from her hand. She backed into the wall, trembling, until Marcus appeared in the doorway, his face pale. She tried to explain, but the words lodged in her throat.
Marcus didn't press her. He only turned on all the lights, one by one, as if illumination alone could keep the dark at bay.
But light didn't stop the breath she felt inside her chest. Ethan was there, steady, patient, inhaling when she did, exhaling when she did, like a parasite she could never separate from.
When she finally slept, the dream came.
She stood in the trainyard again, but this time Marcus was nowhere. The cars stretched endless in all directions, a labyrinth of rust and shadow.
Ethan walked among them, his shape flickering, his face both familiar and strange. His voice carried like a lullaby.
"You can't fight me anymore, Sophie. I'm not outside you. I'm not something you can banish with ink or fire. I'm under your skin."
She shook her head violently. "I won't let you."
He stepped closer, and she realized with horror that he looked less like Marcus now and more like her. His features softened, his movements mirrored hers, until she felt like she was staring at a distorted twin.
"You already did," he whispered. "The moment you opened the door."
She woke choking, Marcus shaking her awake, panic in his voice. She clutched his shirt desperately, sobbing into his chest.
"He's turning into me," she gasped. "Marcus—he's becoming me."
Marcus held her tight, his own breath ragged. "Then we fight harder. We find another way. I don't care if I have to carve him out with my bare hands."
But Sophie couldn't ignore the truth she felt in her bones. Ethan wasn't a separate entity anymore. He was a contagion, and she was infected.
And with every shared breath, he grew stronger.
The infection of Ethan's presence became impossible to ignore. Sophie found herself losing time—moments where she would blink and suddenly be across the room, notebook in hand, though she hadn't remembered moving. Words would appear on the pages, jagged and frantic, and when she tried to erase them, the ink bled deeper into the paper, as if the book itself refused to forget.
Marcus noticed it first. He kept count, scribbling on scraps of paper, tracking every moment Sophie seemed absent. One night he shoved the list at her—thirty-three separate incidents in two days.
"You're slipping," he said, his voice raw with desperation. "He's not just with you, Sophie. He's inside you. And if we don't act—"
She tore the paper from his hands. "What do you want me to do? Rip out my lungs? Cut my veins? He's already here!"
Her voice cracked into a scream that echoed off the walls. She had never shouted at Marcus before, but the rage wasn't hers. She knew it even as it poured out of her, acidic and foreign. Marcus's eyes widened with a pain that broke her.
She covered her mouth with trembling fingers. "That wasn't me," she whispered.
Marcus didn't answer. His silence was worse than anger.
That night, Sophie sat on the floor, the notebook open in front of her. She held her pen tight in her fist, writing furiously. You are not me. You are not real. You will not take me.
The letters glowed briefly before twisting, re-forming under her hand.
But I already have.
Her pen dropped from her grip. She clutched her chest, struggling to breathe, because the words weren't just on the page—they were inside her head, whispered with each inhale. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Marcus rushed to her side, shaking her. "Stay with me, Sophie!"
She grabbed his shirt, nails digging deep. "Marcus—I can't—he's—he's—" Her body convulsed, her voice turning guttural, two tones overlapping. One hers, one Ethan's.
Marcus froze, horror carving into his face as he realized she was speaking with both voices at once.
"I told you," Ethan's tone said through her lips. "You can't separate us. You never could."
Marcus shoved the notebook away, his voice cracking with fury. "Get out of her! If you want someone, take me! Leave her alone!"
Sophie collapsed against him, sobbing, her voice breaking back into her own. "Don't… don't say that. He'll listen."
Marcus cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Then let him. Better me than you."
"No," Sophie choked out. "If he takes you, he takes me too. Don't you get it? He's tying us together. He's making me choose."
Her words rang with Ethan's echo, and Marcus's face fell, devastated.
They spent the next day in silence, fear thick between them. Marcus wouldn't leave her side, but Sophie felt the distance growing anyway—because she wasn't sure she was fully herself anymore. Ethan's voice seeped through at the edges of her thoughts, whispering doubts, twisting Marcus's words until everything sounded like betrayal.
When Marcus touched her hand, Ethan hissed: He's just holding you down.
When Marcus kissed her forehead, Ethan purred: He only loves you because I let him.
By nightfall, Sophie couldn't tell which voice was louder—Marcus's or Ethan's.
She found herself staring at Marcus as he slept, his face gaunt from exhaustion. She wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin, but her hand froze mid-air. Because Ethan was there, whispering through her blood. You could end him right now. Then you'd never have to choose.
Her stomach lurched. She ripped her hand back, curling into herself, sobbing silently.
When Marcus woke, she lied. "I just couldn't sleep."
But the truth was worse: she was no longer sure whose hand had reached for him—hers, or Ethan's.
The following evening, the notebook moved again. This time, it didn't just breathe. It spoke.
The cover cracked open, the pages fluttering, and Sophie heard the words aloud for the first time, a voice crawling from the paper: "Choose, Sophie."
Marcus lunged forward, slamming the book shut, but the voice seeped through the wood of the desk, vibrating the floor beneath them.
"Choose. Him or yourself. One survives. One belongs."
Sophie covered her ears, but the sound was inside her, rattling her bones. Marcus grabbed her, holding her tight, shouting over the roar. "Don't listen! He's lying! He just wants to break you!"
But Ethan's laugh filled her head, a sound both triumphant and tender. "She knows I'm not lying. She feels me in her breath. She feels me in her blood."
Sophie's scream tore through the night, raw and desperate. And when her voice broke, another voice slipped out with it—Ethan's, layered under her own.
Marcus's eyes filled with tears. "Don't you dare leave me, Sophie. Don't let him win."
She shook her head violently, clinging to him, but even as she held on, she knew Ethan was right. With every shared breath, every stolen thought, he was tightening his grip.
And soon, there would be no choice left to make.