The darkness pressed in around her, thick and suffocating.
Claire stood frozen in the middle of the living room, her phone clenched so tightly in her hand her fingers ached. The light switch clicked uselessly beneath her palm. Nothing. The power was out — or someone had cut it.
The knock came again.
Three slow raps. Controlled. Patient.
Her breath hitched. She backed away from the door, barefoot on cold hardwood, every sense screaming at her to hide. The hallway outside remained silent, but she could feel someone there — a presence just beyond the thin barrier of wood.
The phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
"You can't ignore me forever."
A sob rose in her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth, terrified the sound might give her away. Her chest burned, lungs begging for air she couldn't seem to draw.
"Go away," she whispered, though she didn't know who she was speaking to — the person at her door, the sender of the messages, or the voice inside her head that kept insisting she deserved this.
The door handle shifted.
Just slightly.
Her vision tunneled. She staggered back until she hit the wall, sliding down it to the floor. Her mind splintered, past and present crashing together in violent flashes —
Smoke.
Heat.
Daniel screaming her name.
Claire!
Her heart slammed against her ribs, and suddenly she was seventeen again, choking on smoke, her hand slipping from her brother's as the flames surged between them.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I tried. I swear I tried."
The handle stopped moving.
Silence fell — heavy, absolute.
Minutes passed. Or seconds. Time lost meaning. When her breathing finally slowed, she dragged herself to her feet and forced herself toward the door, legs shaking.
She leaned close, pressing her ear to the wood.
Nothing.
Slowly, she peered through the peephole.
The hallway was empty.
No footsteps. No shadows. No stranger waiting to strike.
Her knees nearly buckled with relief and confusion. Had there been anyone at all?
Her phone buzzed again.
She nearly screamed.
Unknown Number:
"You always run away. That's why he died."
Something inside her snapped.
"No!" she cried, the word tearing from her chest. "That's not true!"
Her voice sounded foreign — sharp, broken — loud in the stillness. She hurled the phone across the room. It struck the wall and dropped to the floor, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks.
Her reflection stared back at her from the dark window: wild-eyed, pale, hair damp with sweat. She barely recognized the woman looking back.
She slid down against the wall again, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Maybe this was her punishment.
Maybe she was finally losing her mind.
Sirens wailed in the distance — faint, mournful. She didn't know how long she sat there before sleep pulled her under, heavy and dreamless.
When she woke, sunlight spilled across the floor.
Her head throbbed. Her throat was raw. For one fragile moment, she told herself it had all been a nightmare — the notes, the messages, the knocking.
Then she saw the door.
Scratched into the wood — deep, deliberate — was a single word:
REMEMBER.
Her blood ran cold.
Whoever this was…
They weren't done with her yet