Chris sat on the edge of his bed, phone clenched in his hand, breathing like he had just run for his life.
His fingers trembled. His chest felt tight, hollow. Fear sat inside him, heavy and shapeless. Not fear of something he could name. Not fear of something logical. It felt older than reason, like his body knew something his mind refused to accept.
Something exists.No.Something shouldn't exist.
He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his breathing to slow. In. Out. In. Out. The room was normal. His posters hung where they always had. Sunlight spilled through the window. Nothing had changed.
"This is stupid," he muttered.
A prank. That was all it was. Eric messing with him. Or maybe exhaustion. Maybe the nightmare had bled into reality. Phones glitch all the time. Messages appear. Disappear. That's normal.
He stood, splashed water on his face, and stared at his reflection until the shaking stopped. By the time he headed downstairs, he had convinced himself of one thing.
Nothing happened.
The prep class building buzzed with familiar noise. Lockers slammed. Students complained. Life moved forward without him. Chris took his seat and kept glancing at the door, waiting for Eric to stroll in late, backpack slung low, grin already ready.
The bell rang.
Eric didn't show.
Chris leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly. He's late. That's it. Everything is fine.
Class dragged. Numbers blurred on the board. Words slipped past his ears. When the final bell rang at 2 p.m., Chris was already out the door.
Eric's house stood just three streets away. Chris pounded on the front door harder than he meant to. It opened quickly.
"Oh, hi Chris," Eric's mom said, smiling. "Eric's upstairs."
Relief hit him so hard his knees nearly gave out.
"Thanks," he said, already moving.
Eric's door was half open. The glow of a TV lit the room. Game music filled the air. Eric sat cross legged on the floor, controller in hand, eyes locked on the screen.
Chris stepped inside. "You skipped class to play on your new PS5?"
Eric jumped, nearly dropping the controller. "Dude! Don't sneak up on me like that." He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah. I just wanted to play the new games, man."
The knot in Chris's chest loosened. He forced a smile. "Then why did you call me last night?"
Eric blinked. "Call you?"
"Yeah. You blew up my phone."
Eric shrugged. "I couldn't wait till morning. Thought maybe we could play together."
Chris stared at him, frustration bubbling up beneath his grin. "I swear, I should punch you in the face."
Eric laughed, awkward and relieved. He tossed Chris a controller. "Relax. Sit down."
They played until the sun dipped low. Shooting. Racing. Laughing. By the time Chris left around six, the fear felt distant. Embarrassing. Like something he had imagined.
Back home, his grandfather sat in the hall watching the evening news. Chris dropped onto the couch, half listening.
Then the anchor's voice sharpened.
"Breaking news this evening. A local student, eighteen year old Ava Reynolds, was found dead earlier today. Authorities have not released details."
Chris froze.
Ava. His classmate. Someone he had spoken to just days ago.
The screen flickered to her school photo.
The fear came back instantly.
He knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.