There's a difference between hearing something…
and listening to it.
We didn't understand that at first.
We thought they were the same thing.
They're not.
And by the time we learned the difference—
it was already too late for one of us.
⸻
It started small.
It always does.
⸻
Samiya didn't tell us right away.
That's the first thing.
If she had, maybe we could've stopped it earlier.
Maybe.
But that's the problem with things that don't leave marks.
You don't realize how bad it is until it's already inside your head.
⸻
It was a normal day.
Or as normal as things could be now.
School felt like something we were forcing ourselves through. Conversations didn't last long. Teachers talked and we nodded, but none of it stuck.
Everything felt… distant.
Like we were slightly out of sync with everyone else.
Samiya was quieter than usual.
Not calm.
Not relaxed.
Just… quieter.
Which was worse.
Hashim noticed first.
He leaned over during lunch, lowering his voice.
"You good?"
She didn't look at him.
"I'm fine."
That tone.
Short.
Flat.
Not angry.
Not yet.
That's how you knew something was off.
Hashim glanced at me.
I shrugged slightly.
We didn't push.
That was the mistake.
⸻
That night—
she listened.
⸻
We didn't know exactly how it started.
Later, she tried to explain it.
But even then, it didn't fully make sense.
Because it never does.
⸻
She said it wasn't loud.
It wasn't even clear.
Just… familiar.
Like someone trying to talk to you from another room.
You can't make out the words—
but you know it's meant for you.
⸻
She was in her room.
Door closed.
Lights off.
Just her phone lighting up the ceiling.
Scrolling.
Trying to distract herself.
Trying not to think about anything.
That's when she heard it.
Her name.
Not shouted.
Not whispered.
Just… said.
Normal.
Too normal.
Like someone standing right next to her.
⸻
"Samiya."
⸻
She froze.
Didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Because she knew that voice.
It wasn't her mom.
It wasn't one of us.
It was something worse.
Something that sounded like it could be any of us.
⸻
She should've ignored it.
That's the rule.
That's always been the rule.
⸻
But she didn't.
⸻
"What?" she said.
Quiet.
Barely a word.
But it was enough.
Because she responded.
She listened.
⸻
The voice didn't answer right away.
That's what got her.
The pause.
Like it was thinking.
Like it was deciding what to say next.
⸻
Then it spoke again.
Closer.
Clearer.
⸻
"I didn't finish."
⸻
That's what she told us.
Those exact words.
And when she said it out loud the next day—
we all felt it.
Because we remembered the cave.
We remembered how it sounded.
How it wasn't quite right.
⸻
Samiya didn't hang up.
Didn't leave.
Didn't turn on the lights.
She stayed there.
Listening.
⸻
That's when it got worse.
⸻
It didn't just say her name anymore.
It started talking.
Not full sentences.
Fragments.
Pieces.
Like something trying to build language out of memory.
⸻
"You ran."
"Not done."
"Still here."
⸻
Each one sounded closer than the last.
Not louder.
Closer.
Like distance didn't matter.
⸻
She told us she felt something then.
Not hands.
Not touch.
Just pressure.
Like the air around her was tightening.
Like something was leaning in—
without being there.
⸻
She should've stopped.
She knows that.
We all know that.
⸻
But fear doesn't always make you run.
Sometimes it makes you stay.
Because part of you thinks—
if I understand it…
I can control it.
⸻
So she kept listening.
⸻
"What do you want?" she asked.
⸻
That was it.
That was the moment.
The line she crossed.
⸻
Because the voice didn't hesitate this time.
⸻
"You."
⸻
Simple.
Clear.
Wrong.
⸻
Samiya said that's when everything felt… sharp.
Not physically.
Mentally.
Like every thought in her head got louder at once.
Memories.
Voices.
Ours.
Hers.
Everything overlapping.
⸻
She said she heard us.
All of us.
At the same time.
⸻
Me
Hashim.
Sia.
Neems.
All talking.
All calling her name.
All wrong.
⸻
"Stop," she whispered.
⸻
But she didn't stop listening.
⸻
That's the problem.
Once you start—
it's hard to stop.
⸻
She didn't sleep that night.
Not really.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt like something was still there.
Not watching.
Waiting.
⸻
⸻
We found out the next day.
⸻
It was obvious.
She wasn't just tired.
She looked… drained.
Like something had taken energy out of her and didn't give it back.
⸻
"What happened?" Sia asked immediately.
No hesitation.
No soft approach.
Straight to it.
⸻
Samiya didn't answer right away.
She just sat down.
Rubbed her face.
Then finally said—
"I talked to it."
⸻
Silence.
⸻
Hashim blinked.
"You what?"
⸻
"I didn't mean to," she snapped, her voice cracking slightly. "It just—it kept talking and I just—"
"You responded?" Sia asked.
Controlled.
But there was something under it.
Concern.
Real concern.
⸻
Samiya nodded.
⸻
That's when the weight dropped.
On all of us.
⸻
I felt it immediately.
That tightening.
That realization.
⸻
It cannot act unless someone listens.
⸻
And she didn't just hear it.
She engaged.
⸻
"What did it say?" Neems asked softly.
⸻
Samiya hesitated.
Then—
"It said it wasn't finished."
⸻
No one spoke for a second.
⸻
Hashim exhaled slowly.
"That's… not good."
⸻
"No kidding," Samiya snapped.
But there was no real anger behind it.
Just fear with nowhere to go.
⸻
Sia stepped in.
"What else?"
⸻
Samiya swallowed.
Then quieter—
"It said it wanted me."
⸻
That landed differently.
Heavier.
More direct.
⸻
No one joked.
Not even Hashim.
⸻
Because that wasn't abstract anymore.
That was targeted.
⸻
And then Neems said something that shifted everything.
⸻
"I have an idea for the cave.."
⸻
All eyes went to her.
⸻
"We go to the trail," she said. "Every night if we have to. If that doesn't work, we set up a camera. Something to watch the area."
⸻
I felt something click.
Not comfort.
Not relief.
Just direction.
⸻
"We don't even know what makes it appear," I said.
⸻
"Then we figure it out," Neems replied.
⸻
Samiya looked between all of us.
Still shaken.
Still off.
But listening.
Carefully this time.
⸻
Hashim leaned back slightly.
"That's a lot."
⸻
"It's the best chance there is," Neems said.
⸻
And the thing is—
she was right.
⸻
Because sitting still wasn't working.
Ignoring it wasn't working.
And now?
Listening was making it worse.
⸻
So we had one option left.
⸻
Go back.
Not blindly this time.
Not like before.
⸻
But deliberately.
When we all thought of going back, the idea terrified us.
But now? We felt obligated to going back.
⸻
Because whatever was in that cave—
wasn't finished.
⸻
And now?
Neither were we.
———
NEXT WEEK:
CHAPTER 12: "What It Wants"