Dead and Gone

A clock overhead clicked steadily in the silent bedroom. A young woman rested with her sharp hazel eyes wide open, locked onto the black abyss that consumed the ceiling. Just past 4 a.m., the only source of light was her unlocked phone screen precariously cradled in her palm. Its feeble glow left the edges of the bedroom obscured in shadow.

Through the darkness, she made sharp eye contact with what she could only describe as nothing, but despite that fact, she felt certain that something was staring back. There was neither shape nor silhouette to observe—only the certainty of a presence, watching, waiting, and exuding its malevolence. A familiar chill bloomed in her chest, sinking into her stomach as if she had swallowed a block of ice.

Suddenly the phone screen timed out. Pure, pitch black darkness violently engulfed the room.

“Scarlett,” a disembodied whisper reverberated from wall to wall. “Scarlett.”

With a swipe of her shaking thumb, she unlocked the screen once again, and the ghostly pale light failed to push back the encroaching shadows. The ceiling felt lower, as if the shadows above were heavy and sagging downward. Scarlett cautiously lifted her free hand, reaching out into the void.

The fine hairs on her arm stood up as she gazed into what appeared to be black smoke-like tendrils swirling and writhing above her bed, just out of reach.

“It’s okay,” Scarlett whispered. “I know it’s you.”

At the sound of her voice, the shadows recoiled and slithered away from her outstretched hand. Scarlett sat upright on her creaky mattress, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

A sudden pop broke the silence, then the lamp on the nightstand next to her buzzed and flickered as its light bloomed into existence. A soft click followed and her computer monitor blinked awake, revealing a pleasant wallpaper of a tropical island. She promptly looked back up at the ceiling, but beneath the fluorescent glow, it was just a plain, innocuous white surface.

A confusing mixture of disappointment and relief swirled around her mind. After a deep exhale, she plopped back onto her pillow and sank into her bedding. With a welcomed moment of peace, her heavy eyes fell shut.

“Goodnight, Azurie.”

Drops of Scarlett

Dead and Gone

Chapter 1

“Happy birthday to us, happy birthday to us, happy birthday dear Scarlett-and-Azurie… happy birthday to us.”

Scarlett sang softly to herself as she navigated a cart full of books between long rows of shelves. She wore a baggy red hoodie and cozy black leggings, her caramel brown hair swept up in a messy, loose ponytail. She shoved the haphazardly placed dusty old tomes upright and stuffed new ones between them, taking care to keep the authors’ names in alphabetical order.

Scarlett glanced up at the antique clock decorating the wall: 6:45 a.m., just fifteen minutes before the store should be opened. She continued working with a greater sense of urgency.

When the cart was finally emptied, Scarlett wheeled it behind the cashier’s counter and made her way to the tall glass doors. A satisfying twist of the lock meant the bookstore was open for business. Her store, she liked to think.

With her morning tasks complete, she leaned against the counter with her hands on her cheeks, gazing out into the city beyond the window. Heavy gray clouds hung low in the cold morning air as dried leaves skittered down the sidewalk beneath the wind. A few stray drops of rain tapped at the windows. They rolled down the glass and dwindled into nothingness, as did Scarlett’s hopes of making a sale anytime soon.

The promise of rain on a cold, dreary November day was certain to impact the usual foot traffic she hoped to lure in with her hand-drawn sales signs.

“Maybe someone will use this place to take shelter or something,” she mused out loud. “Guess I’ll make some tea.”

The first floor of the building was an unassuming bookstore that sold a variety of literature and novelties, but it was better known for its obscure classics and rare antiquities. Little by little, though, Scarlett replaced the dusty relics with modern titles, slowly and methodically transforming the store’s image one shelf at a time.

The second floor of the building was Scarlett’s humble home. A single bedroom, a kitchen, and a restroom made up her entire residence. Despite its small size, she was comfortable. Besides, she was free to lounge around on the first floor as she pleased.

Scarlett watched dried tea leaves stain the scalding hot water in her cup into a copper brown. She blinked slowly, a persistent lack of sleep creeping up on her. A deep, welcomed yawn bellowed up from her chest, then she then lifted her mug to blow the steam from the surface of the liquid before taking a tentative sip.

With a sigh, she decided to return to her duties.

Each wooden stair let out a painful creak as she tiptoed back down into the bookstore. Then, with a start, her eyes widened and her wobbly smile turned serious.

A customer was approaching. He held his jacket over his head to escape the frigid raindrops that pelted him. The man pushed his way through the glass doors and the bell overhead jingled as he stepped inside and shook off the cold.

“Welcome!” Scarlett greeted. “What can I help you find today?”

The customer hung his dampened jacket on a nearby coat rack and tapped his boots on the floor mat directly in front of the doors. He then turned towards Scarlett to reveal his neatly trimmed gray beard that framed his stern expression. His sharp, inquisitive eyes scanned his surroundings.

“Good morning, young lady,” he replied, his voice strict and deliberate. “I believe you may be able to help me find a signed, original print of a book by the title The Chaotic World by Charles Gansen.”

“I sure can!” Scarlett answered with enthusiasm, then gestured towards a glass display case behind her. “But I bet you already knew that. Seems like my website is being put to good use.”

His mouth curved into an enigmatic smile. “May I see it?” the man asked, peering through the glass.

Scarlett nodded, then pulled a ring of keys from an elastic cord clipped to the waist of her pants. With a quick twist of the key, she popped the glass door open and retrieved the book. Aside from the unavoidable effects of time, it was in excellent condition.

The man carefully reached for it, wearing black leather gloves. He handled the book with the utmost reverence, then flipped the cover open to reveal the author’s signature and a brief memo, thanking his former teachers.

An almost contemptful smirk appeared on his cheeks. His eyes then shifted to the price tag that hung discreetly from the display stand: Six-hundred-sixty dollars.

“I absolutely must have this,” he declared, his voice taking on an edge of urgency. “Gansen is an author from which I based many of my lectures back in my teaching days. This invaluable treasure deserves a place on my shelf. Do you take checks?”

“Yessir!” Scarlett replied, then latched the case shut before nodding towards the cash register.

She retrieved a protective foam case and held it open in front of her customer, who gently placed the precious collectable inside. With the check written out payable to Azurie’s Literary Emporium, Scarlett used her phone to snap two quick photos of the front and back. Within only a few seconds, her bank accepted the check and confirmed that the funds would be immediately available.

“Modern technology never ceases to amaze me,” the man remarked as Scarlett bagged his purchase.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Scarlett smugly chuckled, but her eyes lingered through the window at the rain outside. “Hey, sir, would you like to stay here for a while, until the rain dies down a bit? I could pour you a cup of tea, and you could look over your new book.”

The man observed the gloomy weather, then clutched his bag closer to his side. “I just might take you up on that.”

Scarlett beamed at his response. “No problem, I’ll be right back!”

She cheerfully skipped up the stairs to pour a cup of hot water from her kettle, then dropped in a fresh tea bag. When she returned, the man was sitting at a coffee table with his book open, skimming the delicate pages.

“So what drew you to buy this book?” Scarlett asked, setting his cup down gently before taking a seat at the other side of the table. “The title’s a little creepy, if you ask me.”

“Bah, perhaps I’m simply getting a bit too sentimental as the years go by.” The older man snapped the book shut, his voice taking on a wistful tone. “I did a quick online search, and it led me here. Buying this has been in the back of my mind for quite some time, despite its somewhat creepy title. As you put it.”

Scarlett tilted her head with a half smile while she carefully observed her customer. “Okay I understand, but why this book specifically, if you don’t mind me asking? Gansen has a ton of works to choose from.”

The man’s expression went flat for a moment as he pondered her question. “Well, young one,” he began, his voice soft yet authoritative. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Let’s just say I had a strong calling to buy this book. To put it in simple terms, I have a personal connection to the contents of this book, and the subjects serve as a useful tool for teaching my students to accept certain concepts.”

He paused, then carefully chose his words. “You see, I’ve been a professor at Sulland University for most of my life, and I’ve always had a particular affinity for the works of Gansen, who was so highly respected in the scientific community, yet open to the mysteries of our universe. As a matter of fact, he was the subject of my dissertation when I received my doctorate. That said, I’ve never owned a signed print of his works—until now. I have plenty of other autographed books in my personal library, but it felt a tad unfair to leave out someone so influential to my career.”

“Wow, very impressive, Professor…” Scarlett hesitated, inviting the man to share his name.

“Byland,” he finished, then reached out to shake the girl’s hand with formal, practiced politeness. “And what may I call you?”

“Scarlett,” she answered, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Byland replied, then leaned back in the ornate oak chair and took a sip of his hot tea, the fingertip of his leather glove tracing the gold trim on the porcelain cup.

“So you teach at Sulland University? My friend Kiki goes there, and they say she’s kind of a big deal. Like a prodigy or something. Do you know her?” Scarlett asked, a small burst of vicarious confidence surging.

Byland rubbed his chin and slowly nodded as he recalled the information he had heard about the girl in question. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard nothing but good things. I believe she’s aiming to make a name for herself as a zoologist.”

“That’s her!” Scarlett beamed with pride.

Byland sat down his cup and cleared his throat, his gaze shifting toward Scarlett with scrutiny that caught her off guard. “Might I ask, who is Azurie?”

Scarlett stiffened, her hand beginning to subtly tremble as she swallowed her tea with a sharp gulp. “Uh, that’s actually my twin sister’s name.”

Byland’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “Ah yes, of course. Scarlett and Azurie, red and blue. Your parents must be quite the poets.” He laughed softly for a moment, but his mirth faded as he pressed further, “Does Azurie work here with you?”

Scarlett’s heart sank down into her chest, and her forced smile faltered. “Oh no, she died fifteen years ago. Today, actually, is the anniversary… of her death.”

Byland’s expression shifted instantly, his gaze lowering. “I see. I’m so sorry. My condolences.”

“Nah it’s all good, don’t worry about it,” Scarlett said in a nonchalant tone, waving her dismissive hand to sweep away the awkward subject. Her smile returned in full form. “I shouldn’t have said all that. More importantly, today’s our birthday, so we’re celebrating later with a few of my friends. Feel free to hang out.”

The words our and we’re stuck in Byland’s mind, sending a bolt of intrigue through him. He studied Scarlett more intently now, sharpening his senses as he took in his surroundings. Earlier, the thrill of finding the rare book had clouded his focus, but now, the girl’s dismal condition became starkly apparent. Deep, dark circles clung beneath her weary eyes. Her hands trembled faintly. Her caramel-colored hair hung in a messy, unbrushed ponytail. Yet, despite it all, she was smiling.

He leaned forward slightly, hesitating before resting a hand on her shoulder. “It must be hard,” he murmured. “I know.”

Scarlett’s eyebrows lifted, her posture straightening. “Don’t worry about me,” she said lightly. “Would you like more tea?”

Byland glanced at his empty cup before rising to his feet. “You’ve been more than hospitable. But I should be going. I’ll pay you another visit the next time I’m struck by a strong calling.”

Scarlett nodded, quickly brushing at her dry eyes before returning his gaze. This time, her smile felt thinner, stretched too tight. “Please do. You’re helping keep the lights on in this place.”

With a hearty chuckle, Byland reached for his jacket. “I hope you girls have a lovely birthday,” he said before stepping out into the rain.

The door latched shut, the small bell chiming once more.

Scarlett exhaled deeply and sank against her embroidered sofa, tension unspooling from her limbs. Relief flooded her. The lucky sale meant another month before she would have to worry about lot rent or her parents’ payments for the store. For now, at least, her mind could rest. She slouched further into the cushions, her heavy eyes slipping shut—just for a moment.

DING

The chime of the doorbell jolted Scarlett awake. She scrambled to her feet, blinking away the haze of sleep as she expected to see customers. But as her vision cleared, the sight of her two best friends greeted her instead. Her initial confusion melted into a warm, relieved smile.

“Wow, already ten o’clock? Time sure flies, huh?” Scarlett mumbled through a yawn, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Yeah time flies when you’re sleeping on the job. Tsk tsk.”

A young woman, tall and athletic with long black hair, stood with her hands on her hips, dressed in a black jacket, baggy army-green cargo pants, and well-worn leather boots. “Even on your birthday, that’s just unacceptable.”

Scarlett scoffed, flicking stray strands of hair from her face. “Oh, please, Riley. I wasn’t sleeping. Just resting my eyes for a second.”

Riley raised an eyebrow, a smug grin forming as she tapped the petite blonde beside her. “What do you think, Kiki? Was she just resting her eyes—with her mouth wide open and drool pouring down her chin?”

Kiki, dressed in a sleek black turtleneck, snug white pants, and stylish black-and-white sneakers, adjusted her glasses before offering a simple shrug.

Scarlett’s hands shot up to her face as she frantically wiped her chin. “Bullshit! There’s no drool!”

Riley burst into laughter, making no effort to hide her amusement as she strolled deeper into the shop. Kiki followed with a small, knowing smile, a silent gesture of sympathy.

“Happy birthday Scarlett,” they said in unison.

Riley leaned in for a hug, but as soon as her arms wrapped around her friend, she stiffened slightly. Even through the embrace, she could feel Scarlett’s exhaustion, the tension that clung to her like a second skin. She knew all too well that Scarlett’s birthday was also the anniversary of her sister’s death. It wasn’t surprising to find her in such a state—unkempt and drained.

“How are you feeling?” Riley asked, her bold voice shifting into a softer tone.

Kiki stepped in without hesitation, wrapping her small arms around both of them in an attempt to offer warmth.

Scarlett winced, eyes closing for a brief moment as the familiar knot in her throat tightened. She pulled away just enough to mask the emotion creeping in, forcing an unconvincing smile. “I’m totally fine, guys. Just… a little tired, is all. But I’m so glad you’re both here now.”

Riley knew better than to press further. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “Sucks that Tahni had to work all day. I thought she came to the States to escape the sweatshops.”

Scarlett tapped her chin, gazing up in thought. “Yeah, it sucks, but she and Corinne said they’ll try to stop by tomorrow if they have time. I’m sure at least Tahni will.”

Riley grimaced. “Ew, you actually want that dumb bitch Corinne to come here?” She stuck out her tongue and made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Kiki, who had been standing quietly with a large bag in her hands, furrowed her brows and cleared her throat. “Ahem… Well anyway,” she said in an overly cheerful tone, determined to shift the topic. “We brought you some gifts! Go ahead and open them.”

She placed the bag on the coffee table and carefully pulled out two ribbon-wrapped boxes, followed by a third box containing a small cake. White frosting covered the cake’s surface, and in the center, the number 25 was written in bold red icing.

“Happy birthday, Scarlett,” Kiki said warmly.

“Yeah, happy birthday, grandma,” Riley teased. “Damn, halfway to fifty years old already.”

For the first time that day, Scarlett let out a genuine laugh as she grabbed the first of the two gifts. “Haha, okay, Riley. So a couple of twenty-three-year-old whippersnappers wanna bully me now? I see how it is. This is exactly what’s wrong with your generation.”

Kiki tilted her head, smiling softly. “Hey, that one’s from me. I hope you like it.”

“For real,” Riley interjected. “It took her for-fucking-ever to decide what to get you.”

Scarlett’s grin widened as she glanced between the two of them. “Oh? Did you two pick it out together?”

Riley glanced down at Kiki before replying. “We were out a couple weeks ago, and Kiki decided it was the perfect time to get your gift. Just a coincidence we were hanging out, I guess. But goddamn, she made a whole day out of it. Dragged me from store to store, holding things up like, ‘Would Scarlett like this?’ And I just said yes to everything so we could leave.”

Kiki narrowed her icy blue eyes at Riley. “Sorry for putting some thought and effort into my gift.”

Scarlett couldn’t help but smile even wider, the thought of her friends thinking about her when she wasn’t around warmed her heart more than they’d ever realize. “What about you, Riley? Did you just pick out the first thing you saw, then?” she asked with an innocent tone.

“Psh, naw.” Riley waved a dismissive hand. “I got your gift months ago. Saw it, knew you’d love the hell out of it, and boom—bought it on the spot. Nailed it. No problem.” She leaned back against the sofa, arms draping coolly over the back.

Kiki cast a sly glance at Riley’s arm, which nearly stretched behind her. “Go ahead, Scarlett.”

Scarlett shook her head and focused on the task at hand. With a quick tug, she pulled the ribbon free and lifted off the lid. Inside the box was a blue collar with a blank medallion and bell attached. A mischievous smirk appeared on her face as she lifted it up and gave it a playful jingle.

“Kinky, Kiki. I like it,” Scarlett teased, her eyebrow arching.

Kiki nearly choked, hastily clearing her throat. “Scarlett, just no. I want to take you to the shelter to adopt a kitten.”

“The homeless shelter?” Riley mockingly asked.

Scarlett and Riley chuckled while Kiki rolled her eyes, pulling off her glasses to clean the lenses.

“Obviously I mean the pet shelter,” Kiki corrected, exasperated. She turned back to Scarlett, her blue eyes shimmering with anticipation. “What do you think?”

Scarlett rubbed her chin, glancing around the bookstore. “I love the idea of having a cat, but I’m not sure… What if it tears up my stuff? I can’t exactly afford to replace my inventory if a scratchy little menace starts acting up.”

Kiki wagged her finger. “Fret not! That’s where I come in. My gift doesn’t stop at the shelter. I am a zoologist specializing in ethology, after all.”

“Plus, she has like ten cats crammed into her house,” Riley added. “She’s the world’s youngest crazy cat lady.”

Kiki tightly crossed her arms. “I have two cats, dummy.”

Scarlett chuckled at their all-too-familiar bickering as she mulled over the idea of a pet cat. “You know, I think some company around here would be pretty nice. We always wanted a cat when we were little. So if you’re sure you can help me train it—or whatever you do with cats to make ‘em not scratch shit up—then I’m down.”

Riley’s posture stiffened, her gaze flickering toward the empty seat beside Scarlett. Kiki noticed the shift in her friend’s expression.

“That’s great!” Kiki chirped, nudging Riley in the ribs with her elbow. “By the way, there’s a QR code in the box too. You can use it at the pet store’s engraving machine to etch your cat’s new name on the collar later.”

Riley shifted further away, settling into the far side of the sofa. “Alright, that’s settled. Now open my gift.”

“Yes ma’am,” Scarlett replied with mock obedience, then snatched the next box off of the table.

Scarlett couldn’t simply pull the ribbon free like she had with Kiki’s box—this one was tied in a stubborn knot. She tugged and twisted, her frustration mounting, until she finally managed to slide it over the corner with a forceful yank. “Jeez, we got a knot master over here.”

Riley looked appalled, holding her palms upright. “What, so you had to work for it a little? You’re welcome. Challenges build character.”

Kiki covered her face with her palm and looked away, experiencing the secondhand embarrassment that Riley was too bullheaded to feel herself.

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Sure it does.”

With the ribbon conquered, she lifted the lid and pulled out her second gift—a black t-shirt, its fabric soft beneath her fingertips. Across the front, a vivid historical artwork commanded attention. A lone fisherman, draped in red, stood dangerously close to the edge of a rocky cliff, casting his net into deep-blue waves that churned below him. In the distance, the ethereal silhouette of Mt. Fuji defined the horizon. Bold calligraphy ran vertically down the side—Hokusai.

“Pretty sweet, right?” Riley asked, brimming with confidence.

Scarlett stared at the image for several long moments, drawn in, as if the painting whispered something only she could hear. The piece stirred something deep within her—its solitude, its defiance against the vastness and fury of nature. Finally, she looked up. “Kajikazawa in Kai Province. I love it, Riley. Thank you so much.”

“No big deal. Picked it up at a Tokyo art museum gift shop earlier this year. Knew you’d love it.” Riley tried to sound casual, but the quiet joy in her voice betrayed her.

Scarlett’s fingers ran over the inked waves. “It’s no secret I adore Hokusai. My blanket upstairs is The Great Wave of Kanagawa. It seems majoring in Art History wasn’t a complete waste of time. Sure, I didn’t learn anything practical, but at least now my friends know what kind of gifts to get me.” She hugged the shirt to her chest. “You both are so awesome. I love you guys.”

“We love you too,” Kiki responded with a gentle smile.

Riley smirked. “If you actually graduated, it’d be even less of a waste.” She paused, realizing she might’ve struck too close to home. “Uh—so, yeah, try it on! We won’t peek.” She covered her eyes with blatant gaps between her fingers.

Scarlett ignored the jab and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be right over there.”

Disappearing behind a bookshelf, she slipped off her oversized sweater and pulled the t-shirt over her head. It fit perfectly, hugging her figure in just the right way.

Riley unleashed a catcall whistle as her friend walked out to reveal her new shirt. “Fits like a glove.”

Scarlett twirled once before plopping back down. “Yeah, it fits nicely. Looks better than my old stretched-out sweater, at least.”

Kiki adjusted her glasses, studying her. “It suits you well, Scarlett. Once again, to everyone’s surprise, Riley has chosen an unbelievably thoughtful gift.”

Without warning, Kiki swapped sofas and grabbed a lock of Scarlett’s unruly hair.

“Mind if I do something?” she asked, though her nimble fingers were already at work.

Scarlett glanced at Kiki’s own shimmering blonde hair, cascading effortlessly over her shoulder. Then she noticed the delicate, pearl-and-gold manicured nails fiddling with her messy brown strands.

“…Go ahead?”

Scarlett felt a small pang of shame as she considered the unruly state of her hair—not to mention her jagged nails. But then she glanced at Riley, and the feeling instantly subsided. No matter how bad things were, at least she’d never be that tomboyish, she told herself.

Kiki pulled a brush from her purse and went to work, carefully styling Scarlett’s hair into a loose but elegant ponytail. She freed a few strands from the hair tie, letting them frame Scarlett’s face with effortless charm.

“Ah, there’s the hot Scarlett I know,” Riley teased.

Scarlett blushed, looking down before returning Riley’s grin with a playful smirk. “You guys treat me too well, you know.”

Riley suddenly straightened up, her energy shifting. “Hey, so are you coming with us to Alaska or not? You better decide soon so we can book your tickets.”

Scarlett looked up and away, her smile flattening out. “Uhm, well, you see... I don’t know. Maybe not.”

“Oh come on,” Riley grumbled. “What’s the big deal? Are you seriously worried about closing the store for a weekend?”

Kiki wagged her finger at Riley. “Stop trying to guilt her into it. If she can’t go, then she can’t go. I’m sure she feels bad enough about it already without you making it worse.”

Scarlett’s shoulders drooped. “It’s not like I don’t want to… It’s just…”

Riley rolled her eyes and cut her off. “Alright, fine. Just don’t bitch that I didn’t welcome you to join us later when we’re having a blast and you’re wishing you came too.”

Kiki gently hugged Scarlett’s arm. “Let’s be honest, I doubt the poor girl wants to go freeze her butt off in Alaska in the middle of winter anyway. Right?”

Scarlett forced a laugh. “Right. You two will have a great time. I really should just stay and keep the store open as much as possible.”

Riley crossed her arms. “If ya say so. We’ll just have to go back in the summer, so your weak ass can handle the slightly less cold temps.”

Kiki and Scarlett each nodded in agreement, then Riley softened her harsh body language.

A moment of silence settled between them before Kiki spoke up, her voice bright. “Would you like to pick up your cat with me today? I’ve got a meeting at the zoo at noon and some paperwork to button up, but after that, I’m free the rest of the day.”

Scarlett glanced through the storefront windows. The gray sky stretched on endlessly, heavy with rain that pelted the glass. Wind rattled the old building, the rhythmic shudder of the glass syncing with the occasional gusts.

“Yeah, Kiki, that sounds great,” she said, then found herself glancing at the clock again. It was already 11:30 a.m. “I’ll close up early today. How about we meet here around four?”

“That’s perfect.” Kiki stood, tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I hate to cut today short, but I really shouldn’t miss this meeting.”

Riley shot her a look of exaggerated disbelief. “Wow, leaving already? Flaky as ever, I see.”

Kiki was already ordering an Uber. “Don’t start with me. I don’t want to be late. This is my chance to make some real changes next year.”

“Yeah, yeah. Work stuff. Mhm.” Riley waved her off, then stretched before rising to her feet. Her gaze wandered toward the bookstore’s dimly lit corners, scanning for something unseen. “I should probably head out too. Sorry to bail, Scars, but I’ll catch ya later, alright?”

Scarlett swallowed the lump forming in her throat as her friends prepared to leave. “Thanks for coming, you two. You really made my day.”

Kiki adjusted her glasses, offering a soft nod. “I’ll see you soon. Try to relax a little. Don’t work too hard, okay?” Her warm smile lingered for a moment before she turned to go, her golden hair swaying with the motion.

Riley followed close behind, casting a final nervous glance over her shoulder. “Sayonara, Scars. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

The door chimed as it shut behind them, leaving Scarlett in silence as its resonance faded. She watched from the window as Kiki climbed into the backseat of a sleek black car and Riley revved her motorcycle. They sped off in opposite directions, vanishing into the gloomy afternoon.

Chapter 2

The bookstore felt heavier, the emptiness settling over her like a thick blanket. Her eyes drifted to the untouched birthday cake on the coffee table. She wondered why they hadn’t cut a slice sooner.

She took a quick trip upstairs, returning with a plate, fork, and knife. The plastic cover popped off with ease. Angling the blade over the cake, she considered where to make the first slice. A gentle push sent the knife through the soft layers, dividing it into halves, then fourths, then eighths.

Scarlett eyed the knife covered in frosting, and considered whether or not to lick it.

As her thoughts momentarily drifted to simpler things, she had nearly forgotten the tragedy that accompanied her birthday. But then, as if the universe refused to let it slip her mind, a flash—a grotesque image seared into her eyes like a white hot branding iron.

It was Azurie’s pale, lifeless face. Her once charming hazel eyes reduced to black, empty sockets. Her mouth was hanging open, a gaping black maw.

Scarlett clutched the side of her head and struggled to shake the image from her mind. She looked down. The knife in her hand was no longer smeared with frosting—it was dripping. Drenched in blood.

She gasped and dropped it. The blade clattered against the table with a sharp clang, jolting her back to reality. Her chest heaved, her pulse hammering in her ears. Her gaze darted to the darkened corners of the shop, to every shadow stretching just a little too far. Searching for something that wasn’t there.

Outside, the storm worsened. Thunder rumbled deep in the distance, a low, guttural growl that rattled the windows.

“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice trembling. “Azurie please… not today.”

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt, gripping tight before releasing. She forced herself to breathe, then reached for the little blue collar resting beside the cake. Her hands were shaking.

“Look, we’re gonna get a kitten. Isn’t that nice?”

Silence answered her.

A hollow smile crawled across Scarlett’s cheeks. “My god, I really am a fucking lunatic,” she whispered to herself, pressing her palms against her eyes. “No wonder my friends can only take me in small doses.”

For a long moment, she just sat there. The weight of it all pressing down on her.

Then, with a quiet exhale, she picked up her fork. Took a bite of cake. The sweetness was soft and comforting, if only in the smallest way.

Her phone buzzed.

As she chewed, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. A single notification appeared on the screen:

One new text message.

With a quick swipe of her thumb, she unlocked the phone and opened the message.

Happy Birthday, Scarlett! If you ever feel like talking, don’t hesitate to call. Have a good one!

Scarlett scoffed and shoved the phone back into her pocket. “For a hundred bucks an hour, right?” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

She leaned back on the sofa and let loose a cold, bitter laugh. “My therapist is the only one who texts me on my birthday. Thanks a lot, Mom and Dad.”

The weight of those words settled over her like a crushing boulder. Scarlett groaned and curled up on the small sofa, hugging her knees to her chest. During moments of loneliness, no matter how hard she tried to suppress them, painful memories always clawed their way to the surface.

Dr. Harold Cheng’s voice slithered deep into her fragile mind—measured, clinical, endlessly condescending. His smug, ever-present smile. The oppressive walls of his office, painted in sickly neutral tones. The Newton’s Cradle on his desk, its steel spheres clacking ceaselessly. And those endless, relentless questions.

Fifteen-year-old Scarlett scribbled furiously with colored pencils, her head bent low over the paper. Across from her, Dr. Cheng watched in silence, hands folded neatly in his lap. His meticulously trimmed beard and mustache framed a face of feigned patience.

“What are you drawing?” he finally asked.

“Someone named Joe,” she replied without looking up.

Dr. Cheng leaned forward, studying the crude, childlike figure—a round-bodied woman with slanted lines for eyes and long, straight hair scrawled in black scribbles. “And who exactly is Joe?”

Scarlett paused, then put on a mischievous grin. “Joe mama!”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, unamused. “Scarlett. Get serious.”

The smirk vanished. She tightened her arms across her chest, fingers digging into her sleeves. “Okay, fine. My sister’s dead. I get it. There’s no such thing as ghosts. Understood. Can I go now?”

Dr. Cheng sat back, steepling his fingers. “I’m not convinced you’re remotely telling me how you really feel, Scarlett.”

Scarlett’s fingers clenched harder. “And coloring like a preschooler is supposed to help with that?”

His dark eyes met hers with unsettling calmness. “Try talking to me instead. That might be more productive, don’t you think?”

Scarlett’s gaze grew sinister, her hazel eyes narrow and lips pursed, like a viper ready to strike. “Which part do you want to talk about again?” Her voice dropped, deadly quiet. “The part where I stabbed my sister in the stomach twelve times—or the part where I see her ghost stalking me every single day and night?”

The venom in the young girl’s cold words managed to send even the seasoned therapist reeling for a brief moment, but he quickly composed himself.

“How does her ghost reveal itself to you?” he asked, his tone calm and steady.

Scarlett blinked, caught off guard by both the question and his casual tone when asking.

She tilted her head, studying him. “You really wanna know?” she murmured. “Or is this just another way to keep feeding me crazy pills?”

“I’d really like to know, Scarlett.” Cheng leaned forward with genuine interest.

Scarlett’s eyes scanned every corner of the room, darting left and right, up and down. “She just… appears randomly. She always seems to be the same age as me, and she shows me things—her dead body, or illusions like blood that’s covering me one second and gone the next. There are other times when I don’t actually see her, but I know she’s there, because I feel her. I can hear her breathing in my ear and whispering things I can’t understand. Sometimes I see shadows that shouldn’t be there, and when I go to check ‘em out, they fade away before I can reach them. Stuff like that.”

Cheng’s pen rapidly scratched against paper as he listened.

Scarlett exhaled sharply. “I know how crazy I sound, but I don’t know how to prove I’m not.” She buried her face in her hands. “I don’t want to take the pills anymore. They just make me tired. They never stopped my sister from haunting me. Never.”

“Scarlett,” Cheng gently said. “The pills I prescribed aren’t crazy pills, as you called them. They’re for your PTSD, to help prevent the panic attacks and hyperventilation. How have they been working in that regard? Any episodes recently?”

Scarlett thought for a moment, then slowly shook her head.

“Good, so keep taking them. Fatigue is an unfortunate side effect, but I’d rather see you tired than struggling to breathe,” he explained, then after a brief pause, continued. “I have another question for you: Why did you tell me that you stabbed your sister, twelve times, was it?”

Scarlett peeked at her doctor over her fingertips, her eyes distant and detached. “I killed her. Does it really matter how?”

Cheng adjusted his glasses. “Legally, it matters a great deal,” he said. “But more importantly, you shouldn’t be lying to me—or to yourself. Accepting the truth is a critical step in healing.”

Scarlett’s expression shifted. Her harsh gaze, now sharp and venomous, locked onto his.

“Fine.” She lowered her hands, her voice dropping into a cold, emotionless monotone. “I went into Azurie’s room while she was asleep. Shoved a pillow over her face. Used both hands to make sure that little bitch couldn’t—”

“Scarlett!” Cheng interrupted, his stern voice cutting through her cruel narrative. “Enough, please.”

Scarlett flinched, her bravado shattering. Her eyes glistened, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights above.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice,” Cheng said, his tone softening. “But I believe you’re creating these false scenarios as a way to detach yourself from reality.” He jotted something down, his pen tapping rhythmically against the clipboard. “Shall we go over what really happened?”

Scarlett once again slowly shook her head, her movement slow and heavy. “So everyone at school thinks it was an accident, and I’m just supposed to embrace reality?” Her soft voice cracked. “That’s bullshit.”

“That’s a valid point,” Cheng admitted, then tapped his pen against the top of the clipboard. “But acceptance is the final stage of grief. Let’s not get caught up in denial. Avoiding the truth will only prolong your suffering.”

Scarlett stayed quiet, her eyes locked on her shoes.

Cheng watched her carefully before shifting gears. He pulled a manila envelope from his desk, thick with documents, its edges slightly worn from years of storage. He placed it between them with deliberate care. “Now, I can read the police report,” he said evenly. “But I’d prefer to hear it from you.” He studied her face. “After all these years, you still haven’t told me the truth in your own words. At this point, I believe it’s essential for your full recovery.”

Scarlett’s fingers twitched against her thighs.

Then, as if something inside her snapped, she clutched the sides of her neck and squeezed. Her nails dug into her skin, pinching, pulling, clawing—anything to force away the image from her mind’s eye. Tears slipped between her tightly shut eyelids, her breath coming in shallow, strangled gasps.

Cheng rose from his chair and extended his hand. “Scarlett, breathe. Deep, calming breaths, you’re safe here.”

Scarlett bolted from her chair so fast that it toppled over, hitting the floor with a sharp crack. Her body lurched toward the farthest corner of the room, her legs buckling beneath her. She collapsed into herself, curling up tightly, her arms wrapped around her knees. She rocked back and forth, heaving, sobbing—her breath ragged, caught between cries and desperate gasps for air.

“Scarlett, relax and breathe, okay?” he said in a soft voice.

“Scarlett, breathe!”

The grating whisper tore through her mind. Her eyes flew open, tears welling up as the memory of the therapist’s office evaporated, replaced by the cold, isolating stillness of the bookstore.

“Scarlett, breathe!” The whisper came again—louder, more jagged—scraping at the inside of her skull like claws on bone.

Scarlett clutched her head, fingers tangling in her hair. “Stop!” she gasped, the word cracking as it escaped her throat.

She tried to inhale, but her throat felt thick—clogged with something viscous and choking. She swallowed hard, but to no avail.

Scarlett flung her legs over the edge of the sofa to stand, but it was as if every last bit of energy had been sapped from her body. She choked, still unable to breath through her mouth. Forcing herself to stay calm, she pulled in the thinnest thread of air through her nose.

She looked around the store. Blackness framed her vision, like looking through thick sunglasses. Then she realized something wasn’t quite right. The bookstore was gone.

The floor beneath her was rough concrete. The space was too small. There were no windows. In one corner sat a narrow bed, in the other, a toilet and a rust-stained sink.

She looked down—her hands were calloused, cracked.

She gagged again, and a thick splatter of red hit her palms. She stared at it, horrified, just as the pain bloomed in her stomach. A makeshift blade jutted from her abdomen. Her tan jumpsuit was riddled in holes, soaked in growing patches of blood.

Scarlett fell to her knees, spotting the ethereal image of her ghostly sister standing in front of her. Then, completely drained of energy, she collapsed face first on the concrete floor.

“Scarlett, I can’t breathe!”

The voice shrieked through her skull like a sawblade—and then, all at once, she was back. Once again she was laying on the bookstore’s sofa.

The bell above the doors chimed.

A young boy stood inside the building as the door latched shut behind him, hunched over beneath the weight of his oversized backpack and adjusting his broken glasses.

He locked eyes with Scarlett, startled by the look of sheer horror on her face.

Scarlett gasped, still struggling to swallow. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her whole body trembled.

“Uhm, is this place open?” the boy asked with a lisp, his voice shaky and nervous. “Maybe I’ll come back another time…”

Scarlett shook her head fast, trying to find her voice. “It’s okay… I’m…” she croaked, forcing the lie. “I’m just choking… on some birthday cake I had—”

“Scarlett!”

The voice erupted in her head yet again, vicious and guttural, like an unholy Aztec Death Whistle.

From one corner of the room, a massive figure cloaked by shadows charged at her full speed.

Scarlett winced and threw her arms over her head—but nothing hit her. When she peeked through her trembling fingers, the figure had vanished.

She turned to the boy, forcing a brittle smile. “Come on in, I’ll be right back,” she said, her voice strained with unconvincing enthusiasm.

The kid hesitated for a moment, then snorted and walked inside, eyeing the partially eaten cake on the coffee table. “Okay, Miss. If you say so.”

Scarlett bolted upstairs, barely making it to the bathroom sink before retching. But nothing came up—just a trickle of tea, followed by harsh, dry heaves. She gripped the edge of the sink to stay upright, gasping for air.

She pulled open the bathroom mirror to reveal her medicine cabinet, and fumbled to grab a bottle of pills, her hands shaking violently. She dumped two pills into her palm and turned on the faucet. Cool water flowed into the sink, but every attempt to cup some in her free hand ended with it spilling through her trembling fingers.

“Damn it, stop!” she hissed, slamming her fists against the porcelain.

Desperate, she tossed the pills into her mouth and swallowed them dry. The bitterness clung to her tongue and she shuddered.

Just as her breathing started to steady, a low, droning hum rose behind her—barely audible, but deep enough to crawl along her spine.

Her gaze shifted toward the bathtub. Unnatural shadows pooled in its recess—thick, roiling, and writhing. They didn’t just move; they stared. A black, misty haze crept outward, swallowing the corner of the room.

Scarlett stared back, heart pounding. The void radiated malice—cold, vile hatred so potent it seemed to pulse against her skin. Without speaking a word, the darkness made its message clear: it hated her. It enjoyed her pain.

She wondered, guilt gripping her chest, if the entity was Azurie or something else entirely.

She stared back, her narrowed hazel eyes and gritted teeth just as menacing as the shadows that plagued her.

Before she realized it, her feet were moving. Step by step, the room dimmed until nothing remained but the bathtub and a sea of infinite darkness.

She knelt beside it. The water, though pitch black, welcomed her hand. Without hesitation, her fingers found a neck.

In an instant, the water was clear, as was Azurie’s face.

Scarlett froze, but her grip didn’t loosen. Beneath her hands, her twin sister thrashed. Azurie’s panicked eyes locked on hers as she clutched Scarlett’s wrists, her cries bubbling up in a stream of frantic, broken sound.

“Scarlett… I can’t… breathe…”

Scarlett’s grip only tightened. Her hands trembled violently as she screamed, “You’re not Azurie!”

And then—she lost her grip.

Her hands passed cleanly through the body. She slipped forward, falling headfirst into the tub.

She plummeted deep into the abyss. The water thickened like black tar as she sank, deeper and deeper, pressure crushing her ribs, her lungs screaming for air. Her skull felt like it would split from the inside out at any moment.

“Uhm, miss?” a nasally voice called out from downstairs. “I’d like to make a purchase if you’re not too busy.”

Scarlett’s heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, the darkness was gone. The tub was just a tub. Her hands were mostly steady. The faucet still ran, cold water pooling in the basin.

Her eyes then darted to the bathroom doorway, where Azurie was peeking inside with a crooked smile. Her translucent eyes showed a familiar sense of worry and concern for her sister.

Only a short moment after spotting her, Azurie dipped out of sight. The brief encounter was enough to pull Scarlett back to steadier ground.

She inhaled deeply—a calming, simple breath of air.

It took a few long moments to fully steady herself. She rinsed her mouth, then splashed water on her face, washing the bitterness of the pills from her tongue. Her reflection looked pale and shaken, but that was par for the course as far as she was concerned.

Without another thought of the situation, she turned and hurried downstairs.

“Sorry about that.” Scarlett jogged behind the counter and grabbed the book that the boy had picked out. “Ah, a manga lover?”

The boy nervously adjusted his crooked glasses. “I like this anime, but I heard the manga is even better. I thought I’d give volume one a try before committing to the whole collection.”

Scarlett nodded and flipped the pages beneath her thumb. “You know, you’re welcome to hang out here and read it if you want, to make sure you like it before buying.”

The boy hesitated. “Uhm, uh… I don’t know. My mom doesn’t like it if I stay out too long after school.”

Please stay… please stay, Scarlett silently begged. “Oh, that’s okay,” she said, forcing a casual tone. “I was just wondering if you wanted to tell me about that anime. I think I’ve heard of it but never saw it.”

The kid’s face lit up. “I suppose I have a few minutes to spare. For the sake of anime!”

Scarlett’s pulse slowed, the fear of being left alone subsiding. “That’s great! My name’s Scarlett by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, shoot,” the kid looked at his phone, then back up to Scarlett, his excitement fading. “My mom’s calling. I really gotta go after all. Oh, uh, anyways I’m Jason. I’ll definitely come back and tell you about Demon Killers though! It’s the coolest anime ever and you’re gonna love it. ‘Kay, bye!”

“Wait!” Scarlett blurted out, startling them both. Jason froze in the doorway.

She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing hot. “Sorry… Did you still want to buy the manga before you go?”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Sheesh.” Jason dug a crumpled ten-dollar bill from his pocket and placed it on the counter.

Scarlett handed over his change and waved him off.

The door chimed again behind him, signaling solitude once again.

“Twenty-five years old, I should be used to this shit by now,” Scarlett scolded herself, shoving her fingers through her hair. “Happy birthday, retard.”

She paced back and forth for a few restless minutes, then stepped outside. The cold November wind made her regret trading her sweater for a T-shirt. At least the rain had stopped. Despite the chill biting at her arms, she welcomed the literal breath of fresh air.

Scarlett pulled out her phone and opened her text messages. Her thumb went to work.

Hey Cheng, I had another episode today, this time in front of a customer, the worst I’ve had in years. I’m getting low on Benzodiazepine. I haven’t slept more than a couple hours at a time in months. I can’t eat anything without puking. I can’t afford another session though. My parent’s insurance dropped me last year. I don’t know what to do when these pills run out. Can you please, please, please help me out just this once?

With a shaky exhale, she hit send. Slouching against the window of her shop, she stared out toward the distant skyline of downtown Sulland, the buildings mostly hidden by low-hanging clouds. Minutes ticked by painfully slowly while she waited.

Then her phone buzzed in her hand. She jolted upright and read the message.

You know I can’t do that, Scarlett. Your prescription is a controlled substance, so doling it out without proper sessions could cost me my license.

Scarlett groaned, pressing her hand to her forehead. She was about to fire off a seething reply when her phone buzzed again.

Look, I can waive my fee if you come talk to me again, consider it a birthday gift. But I have one condition, you need to agree to keep talking to me. Even if it’s just a text now and again to let me know how you’re doing. It sounds like you’re in a bad place right now, which is perfectly understandable. So come see me. I can help.

She breathed a deep sigh of relief and nodded.

Okay, I will. Let me know when I should show up.

Scarlett noticed the time was nearly four o’clock. Kiki would arrive at any moment. She ran inside to grab her jacket, and the shadows in every dark corner seemed to stretch and claw toward her. The bookstore subtly quaked with a faint hum, the vibrations of the wind shaking the walls.

“Azurie, I’m heading out now,” Scarlett announced as she glanced around from corner to corner.

“Scarlett,” a quiet whisper echoed around the bookstore, coming from behind every shelf, around every corner. “Scarlett.”

She zipped her jacket and headed to the front door. An oppressive weight fell onto her shoulders, as if she was being pulled back towards the center of the building. The invisible resistance tugged on her arms and legs. She felt like a piece of steel trying to walk away from a powerful magnet, but she gritted her teeth and pushed forward.

“I’ll be back soon, Azurie. Don’t worry.”

With a final breath, she shut off the lights and flipped the sign to Closed as she stepped outside. As she turned to lock the door, a chill shot up her spine—something behind the glass caught her eye.

Azurie stood in the center of the bookstore, translucent and unmoving. Her wide, pale blue eyes showed worry and fear, like she too was begging not to be left alone. She slowly lifted her hand as if reaching toward Scarlett, but then, step by step, she retreated backwards into the darkness. The shadows consumed her—and then she was gone.

Scarlett’s heart pounded in her chest, desperate to escape the cage of her ribs. She forced herself to look away from the glass. It felt like peeling apart velcro.

Am I crazy or not? she wondered. Does it even matter?

Chapter 3

The November wind howled around her, swirling leaves in its path. She looked up and spotted Kiki approaching. The short girl struggled to keep her fluffy hood in place, but her smile was a welcome reprieve from the gloom.

“It’s so windy!” Kiki grumbled, her nose and cheeks red from the cold.

Scarlett forced a smirk and stood by her side. “Let’s hurry to the shelter then.”

They walked together, and Scarlett absently fidgeted with the small blue collar wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet. Its rhythm as it spun calmed her nerves, as did Kiki’s presence beside her.

“Something wrong?” Kiki asked, her sharp eyes her friend’s behavior. “You keep looking over your shoulder. Did you forget something?”

Scarlett flicked her wrist and shook her head. “Nah, I’m just making sure Riley isn’t about to jump on my back or something.”

Kiki giggled. “You don’t need to worry about that. She got called into work again. I was planning to ask her to join us tonight, too.”

“Oh, bummer.” Scarlet huffed, glad to have averted the topic.

Kiki suddenly grabbed her hand as they walked. “I can see you shaking from here. Are you cold? I should just call us an Uber.”

“Hey, don’t do that. It’s not that far anyway.” Scarlett pulled away. “It’s just my nerves from earlier. I’ll be fine in a sec.”

Kiki frowned, unconvinced. “Did something happen after we left?”

“Yeah,” Scarlett said, laughing lightly. “I passed out for like six hours. That’s about it. Oh! And some nerdy kid came in and bought a manga.”

Kiki lowered her eyebrows, still not satisfied. “If you say so….”

Scarlett scrambled for a way to steer the conversation away from herself. “So, Riley was acting a little weird today. What’s up with her?”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black if I’ve ever heard it,” Kiki teased.

“For real, though.” Scarlett reached back down for Kiki’s hand, her own no longer shaking. “She used to hang out with me all the time, but lately it’s like she can’t wait to leave.”

Kiki hesitated, clearly weighing her words. After a moment, she sighed. “Alright, I’ll just say it: Riley’s scared of your bookstore. She thinks it’s haunted. Or cursed. Or… something like that.”

Scarlett stared at the sidewalk with wide eyes. The words sent her mind spiraling in a million directions. One thought continued to surface over and over: Maybe I’m not crazy.

“What did she say, exactly?” Scarlett pressed.

“Don’t worry about it, Scarlett. You know how she is—Riley can be a big goofy idiot sometimes,” Kiki dismissed the question with a sharp wave of her hand. “And please don’t tell her I said anything. She wanted to keep it a secret for some reason.”

Scarlett nodded in agreement, but her thoughts were still churning. Oh, I’m definitely asking her about this.

“Oh look, the shelter!” Kiki suddenly squealed, bouncing ahead with gleeful skips. Her usual composed demeanor melted into something closer to a kid at a candy store. “Aww, kittens!”

Scarlett trailed behind, and watched her intellectual friend slip into the mindset of an eager child. “These are all really cute.”

Along the wall, cages brimmed with playful, bright-eyed kittens—but Scarlett’s gaze drifted to one cage set slightly apart. A colorpoint cat sat inside. It was not what most would call adorable. Its face was flat, its mismatched eyes pointed in different directions, and its short, stumpy legs barely seemed strong enough to hold up its pudgy body.

Scarlett was instantly drawn to the peculiar critter. “This one, please.”

Kiki crouched close to the cage and stuck her finger inside. The cat took an absurdly long time to react before it finally nuzzled against her finger. “Aww, what a little cutie.”

Scarlett joined her, poking and prodding through the cage to stroke its soft fur. Her heart melted as it purred.

A volunteer approached them with a clipboard and a warm smile. “His name is Snuggle Muffin, and despite his… unique looks, he’s an absolute sweetheart. Very affectionate. Will we be adopting him today?”

Scarlett looked around at the other cages filled with lively kittens, all surrounded by eager visitors. Then back at the odd little cat no one else seemed to notice. “Yep, I think Snuggle Muffin is perfect.”

“Excellent! A cat’s chance of finding a home drops significantly every year they remain with us. I’m so glad this little cutie didn’t have to wait too long.”

Kiki squirmed in delight, then snatched the clipboard away to fill out the paperwork herself. She breezed through the form, entering Scarlett’s information where needed, then paid the adoption fee without a second thought.

Snuggle Muffin came with a small starter kit: a bag of his favorite food, some litter, a bed, and a basic litter box. The volunteer gently placed him into a cardboard carrier, then handed it off to them.

Scarlett and Kiki stepped back out into the brisk November evening.

“I can’t believe it’s already getting dark. It’s barely after five.” Kiki glanced up at the dim gray sky, where a soft orange glow clung to the edges of the thick cloud cover. “At least the rain cleared up before we came here.”

Scarlett peeked into the small holes of the cat carrier, watching as her new pet shifted restlessly within. Snuggle Muffin kneaded the blanket inside, uncertain but not distressed. Still, her excitement was beginning to fade, replaced by the looming image of the dark, silent bookstore waiting for her return.

“Kiki, would you be willing to spend the night with me tonight?” Scarlett tried to sound casual, but a hint of desperation slipped through, uninvited.

Kiki didn’t respond right away. She balanced the empty litter box in one hand and clutched the small bags of food and litter in the other, her expression hidden behind the glare of the streetlights reflecting off her glasses.

Scarlett's stomach knotted up, and she broke the awkward silence. “Sorry, that was dumb. I just thought maybe you could help me out if the cat acts weird or something. But I know you’re probably busy with school and work and… life.”

Kiki kept walking, her face stoic and unreadable.

Scarlett quickened her pace, stepping ahead to block her path. “Well are you gonna say something or what?”

“I really want to,” she said, a tint of red creeping onto her cheeks. “But… I’m… ahem…” Her voice trailed off.

“You’re what?” Scarlett pried.

Kiki looked down at her feet. “I’m scared, alright?” she admitted.

Scarlett stopped cold. Her chest tightened. “You too?” Her voice cracked, the words coming out brittle. “What the hell have you and Riley been talking about?”

“Nothing,” Kiki replied quickly, eyes still averted.

“Nothing my ass!” Scarlett snapped. “What exactly are you afraid of? You think my place is haunted too?”

Kiki shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain it. I guess Riley scared me, so when we were hanging out with you today, I felt really uncomfortable.”

“You seemed fine,” Scarlett argued. “Riley was the only one acting weird.”

“I hide it better?” Kiki offered weakly with a limp shrug.

Scarlett slowed her pace, letting her voice soften. “Why did you feel uncomfortable? Just… tell me. Please. I won’t judge you. I promise.”

Kiki finally looked her in the eyes. Her thoughts seemed to spin behind them, searching for the right words.

“You used to love staying over,” Scarlett reminded her gently. “You pretended the shop was your office, remember? You used to say the creaky floors and spooky decor gave it ‘character.’ Nothing bad ever happened, right?”

Kiki hesitated, then shook her head. “That’s not true,” she said quietly. “I just ignored all the bad things that did happen.”

Scarlett blinked, stunned. “What do you mean?”

“There’s something wrong with the bookstore,” Kiki explained, an authoritative tone filling her words. “You know it. I know it. Everyone who’s ever been in there for more than five minutes knows it. And the longer you’re in there, the harder it is to pretend it’s all in your head.”

Before she could open her mouth to protest, Scarlett found herself considering everything strange that had happened while her friends were visiting the store. Lights flickering, unexplainable thumps and thuds, objects toppling over without cause, the whispers… it all came flooding back.

“Shit,” she muttered. “You’re right.”

Scarlett knew she couldn’t just pour her heart out and explain everything that’s been going on. Kiki would never set foot in her store again. She decided a nuanced approach would be best.

“It’s an old building,” she said with a shrug. “The wiring’s definitely a fire hazard. I’d be more afraid of that than some harmless ghosts knocking cups over.”

Kiki laughed as the shop came into view, its weathered sign barely visible beneath the glow of the streetlights. “You’re probably right about that. I suppose there’s a reason people buy fire insurance and not ghost insurance.”

“Look,” Scarlett said, pausing as they reached the doors. Her hand had a slight tremble as she fidgeted with her keys. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not feeling great and I don’t want to be alone tonight. That’s really all it is.”

“Sheesh, this level of emotional blackmail is totally unfair.” Kiki leaned her head on her friend’s chest. “Fine. I’ll stay the night. But you better keep the lights on.”

“Deal! Thanks, Kiki.” Scarlett unlocked the doors and pushed her way inside, the bell above jingling.

The bookstore felt darker than it should have. The shadows didn’t just sit quietly in the corners—they clung to the edges of furniture like something alive, shaped by the dim outside light filtering through the windows. Scarlett swallowed her unease and marched straight to the light switch, flicking it on with more force than necessary.

The fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered to life one by one, their cold glaring light not much more pleasant than the dark.

“Welcome home, Snuggle Muffin.” Scarlett opened the cardboard box and set the cat free.

The peculiar little creature crept low to the floor, ears flattened. Then, without a sound, he darted across the room and vanished beneath a nearby sofa.

“Just give him some time. It’s perfectly normal for cats to hide when moving into a new home.” Kiki placed his litter box in the corner of the room and filled it with the small bag of clay the shelter provided. “Looks like we’ll need to pick up some more cat supplies tomorrow.”

Scarlett nodded, then pressed her cheek against the floor to peer after the cat while Kiki set up his food and water bowls. The urge to call out to Azurie bubbled up in her throat.

She would have loved this. The thought was sharp, and a bit painful, but she managed to swallow it back down.

“So how long until the cat acts normal?” Scarlett asked.

Kiki sat on the opposite couch, tossing her coat aside. “This is normal, Scarlett. He could be out and exploring in a couple hours or a couple days. Time will tell and every animal is different.”

“Damn, days?” Scarlett lay flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Hopefully that’s enough time for him to decide if he likes it here or not.”

Kiki covered her mouth to stifle her chuckling. “Don’t overthink it. He’s just a cat. He’ll warm up to this place eventually.”

Scarlett huffed and pulled out her phone, pretending to scroll while her mind continued to wander.

Kiki looked all around the creepy bookstore, then let out a breath of relief. “You know, I’m sure Riley is just being Riley. The unsettling atmosphere here is really nothing new.”

Scarlett sat up straight with a raised eyebrow. “What exactly did Riley tell you that got even you, of all people, this shook up about ghosts, of all things?”

Kiki wore half a smirk. “So because I’m a scientist, I’m not allowed to believe in the paranormal?”

“Just answer the question,” Scarlett pressed, leaning against Kiki’s lap with her phone in hand, scrolling idly through her messages as if she wasn’t bracing herself for the answer.

Kiki hesitated, her long fingernails combing through Scarlett’s hair as she gazed at the ceiling in search of the right words. “She’s such a goofball, you know? She said she saw a girl peeking around one of the bookshelves.”

Scarlett’s hand froze mid-scroll. Her phone slipped from her fingers and thudded to the floor, bouncing softly between Kiki’s feet. “What else did she say about that?”

Kiki reached down to retrieve the device, then exhaled slowly, drawing Scarlett closer as though to protect her from Riley’s words. “She said… she said that you keep referring to yourself as ‘we’ and ‘us’ all the time because you know the ghost of your sister is living here with you.”

Scarlett flinched. “That girl could’ve just been a shy customer,” she snapped, a little too quickly. “And honestly, that’s really messed up for Riley to say.”

“I said the same thing, about the customer, I mean.” Kiki admitted, then cleared her throat. “But Riley insisted. She said the girl was pale and had lifeless eyes. Nothing like she’s ever seen before. That was last month, but I’ve never seen her so shaken. You’ve heard the expression, ‘you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.’ Yeah, that suited her well.”

Scarlett was quiet. Her mind spun, piecing together fragments of memories, sensations, moments she’d buried or written off.

Kiki shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “And before we came here this morning, she got really intense. Said she had dreams about the girl. Said the girl was going to hurt us. At first I thought she was just being dramatic—but the way she looked at me…” She trailed off. “It seems I let her get in my head. I’ll admit that was likely a big mistake on my part.”

Scarlett stared ahead, lost in thought. “This whole time, I thought I was insane. I really believed my mind snapped after my sister died.”

Kiki slowly tilted her head, then pushed up her glasses to study her friend’s face. “Scarlett, what are you saying?”

Scarlett’s wobbly smile remained fixed as she spoke. “I’m not crazy. My sister really is here. Now I know I’m not crazy because I’m not the only one who’s seen her.”

Kiki rapidly glanced around the room, the hair on her neck standing up. “Scarlett, you're scaring the heck out of me right now. Are you trying to tell me that Riley isn’t just being an idiot?”

Scarlett flinched at her friend’s fear, guilt bubbling beneath her chest. Her instinct to comfort clashed with a strange new sense of relief. She forced a chuckle and bumped Kiki’s shoulder playfully. “Aw, I was just messing with you. Sorry—I know you hate that creepy stuff, but I couldn’t resist.”

Kiki sagged into the cushions, clinging to the bottom of her coat like a security blanket. “Oh my god. Don’t mess with me like that. I’m already way too jumpy from all the ghost talk earlier.”

Scarlett said nothing, but her mind was spinning. Deep down, she’d always suspected she wasn’t crazy. That Cheng was wrong. That Azurie had never truly left. She kept those thoughts to herself, quietly holding onto the threads she couldn’t yet untangle.

Then her stomach growled. “I’m starving. “Hmm, besides leftover birthday cake, I think I’ve got a frozen pizza,” she said, hoping to change the mood. “You want one?”

Kiki huffed, relieved to switch to a new topic, then nodded. “Okay, that sounds good.”

Scarlett led the way up the stairs to the kitchen. Kiki followed close behind, her fingers latched onto the sleeve of Scarlett’s hoodie like a nervous child.

As Scarlett flicked on the kitchen light, the shadows in the corners twitched—scattering like startled birds. She blinked, her hand frozen on the switch. When she glanced over to Kiki, expecting a reaction, she found none. Her friend was already moving to the fridge like nothing had happened.

Scarlett kept her mouth shut.

She then headed past Kiki to the fridge, yanked open the freezer and pulled out two boxes. “Okay, I’ve got basic bitch pepperoni or deluxe meat lover’s. Choose wisely.”

“Well since you put it that way, I’ll take the regular pepperoni, please.” Kiki winked as she snatched the box from her friend’s hand, then read the instructions on the back. “Preheat the oven to 425, then bake for fifteen minutes, or until golden brown.”

Scarlett retrieved the box and nudged Kiki away. “Hey, I’m the host here. You just sit back and relax.”

Kiki was already turning a dial on the old oven and preparing the pan. “Can I not lend a hand? It’s your birthday, after all. You should be the one to relax—.”

THUMP

Kiki was interrupted by a loud thud emanating from the shop below. Before acknowledging the sound, Scarlett waited to see if Kiki reacted to it as well. The short blond girl was standing straight as an arrow with wide blue eyes.

Scarlett spoke up. “Did you hear that?”

Kiki pushed up her glasses and took a moment to answer. “It… was probably the cat. Right?”

“Right,” Scarlett echoed, breathing out a deep breath. “That’s one good thing about getting a cat. Now I can blame all the weird noises I hear on Snuggle Muffin.”

“Jeez, why am I so on edge? It’s not like your place is any scarier now than it used to be.” Kiki clung to Scarlett's arm, nervous laughter slipping into her voice. “Maybe it’s because I haven't stayed the night here in a while.”

Scarlett stiffened her arms with a determined huff. “Alright, no more scary stuff. We’re gonna have fun just like the good old days. Nothing to be afraid of here.”

Kiki gave a weak nod and loosened her grip. “True. But now that I have a real office, this place seems extra creepy in comparison. No offense.”

Scarlett looked around her dimly lit kitchen. The light fixture overhead was slightly swaying for no apparent reason, causing the shadows of her furniture and appliances to dance from side to side in an eerie motion. “None taken.”

BEEP BEEP

Both girls jumped and instinctively clung to each other. Scarlett gently nudged Kiki aside and approached the oven.

“Okay, enough,” Scarlett declared. “The oven just finished preheating. Nothing spooky about that.”

Kiki pressed her hand against her forehead. “Of course, I know that, but why is it so loud? It startled me. That’s all.”

“Alright, come on.” Scarlett grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the kitchen, across the short hallway, and into the bedroom. “I wanna show you something. You’re gonna love it.”

Kiki sat at the edge of the bed, her nerves finally beginning to settle as Scarlett booted up her computer. Her eyes drifted to an old notebook on the desk—its edges frayed, its cover worn soft with use.

“Have you written any new poems lately?” she asked with a gentle smile.

Scarlett quickly opened a drawer, dropped the notebook inside, and slammed it shut. “Anyway… watch this.”

Kiki chuckled quietly and turned toward the screen as a video began to play. A woman loaded a watermelon into a massive slingshot and pulled back hard.

“Oh, I’ve seen this!” Kiki giggled. “It’s so funny!”

“I know, right?” Scarlett grinned as they watched. The woman hesitated, holding the watermelon taut, until it suddenly rebounded straight into her face the moment she released it. The fruit exploded in a spectacular mess before the video abruptly cut to black.

Both girls burst into laughter. Scarlett wiped a tear from her eye. “That never gets old.”

Kiki leaned against her shoulder, still giggling. “That’s too good. I could totally see Riley doing something like that. Can’t you?”

“Oh, definitely. She’s the most accident-prone person I’ve ever met.” Scarlett scrolled through a list of recommended videos, hunting for their next distraction.

But Kiki’s gaze drifted to the sidebar, and her smile faded. Something didn’t fit.

While Scarlett played a clip of a sea lion spinning in the water and nibbling fish from a man’s hand, the surrounding recommendations were bleak: How to File for Bankruptcy. Top Debt Relief Services. Budgeting Tips for Struggling Businesses. Each title stood in jarring contrast to the cheerful content on-screen.

Scarlett wore a crooked smile. “Damn, that's cute.”

Kiki raised an eyebrow and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “I wonder how cute it'll be when it tears that guy’s arm off.”

“Are they really that dangerous?” Scarlett asked, more curious than skeptical.

Kiki shrugged, her eyes lingering on the screen. “That one might be habituated or partially trained, but in the wild, Eumetopias jubatus—Steller sea lions—can be aggressive if threatened. Males can exceed a thousand kilos and have bite forces strong enough to crush bone. You wouldn’t catch me within striking distance without serious protective gear. If you end up joining us in Alaska next month, we might see one. From a respectful distance, of course.”

Scarlett wiped her nose and scrolled in search of another video, her mind seeming to drift. “I’d like to go, but I really shouldn't. I’m sorry, but you'll just have to deal with Riley on your own.”

Kiki winced, swallowing her disappointment with a small nod. “Right. Of course. Don’t worry about it. You’ll come next time, yeah?”

“For sure.” Scarlett tilted her head with a smile, just as her phone buzzed. “Oh, pizza’s ready.”

Kiki straightened up and smoothed down her shirt while Scarlett slipped into the kitchen. She glanced at the time, then began composing a quick message to her dad, letting him know she’d be spending the night at a friend’s place.

In the kitchen, Scarlett pulled the crisp pizza from the oven and dropped the pan onto the counter. She fumbled through a drawer and retrieved the pizza cutter. With one hand braced on the handle, she pressed down. The crust cracked beneath the blade, and she dragged her trembling hand forward. The cutter screeched across the metal pan.

Scarlett grabbed her wrist and squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep, calming breath. Once again, she inhaled deeply, held it for a few seconds, then slowly exhaled until her lungs were emptied. Then, with more control, she finished slicing the pizza into uneven, misshapen pieces. Sliding on an oven mitt, she carried the pan back to the bedroom.

Kiki leaned forward and inhaled the rich scent of bubbling cheese and toasted crust. “It’s been forever since I had pizza. I’m getting excited.”

“Help yourself,” Scarlett said, already grabbing a slice. She gently blew across its surface before taking a bite. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

Kiki picked a slice of her own, taking a tiny bite off the tip. Her cheeks reddened when she caught Scarlett watching her, and she gave a self-conscious smile.

A soft jingling sound bounced through the room. The girls turned toward the doorway, where a peculiar-looking cat stood hesitantly on stubby legs. His tongue lolled out as he took in his new surroundings with wide, curious eyes.

Kiki nearly choked on her bite as she tried to hold back her laughter. “Oh jeez. He’s so ugly it’s adorable.”

Scarlett crouched and extended a hand toward the scruffy creature. “Aw, this little guy wants some pizza too, huh?”

Kiki joined her on the floor, legs folded as she studied the animal. “He’s engaging in exploratory behavior. Probably performing a comfort-mapping routine—trying to decide if this environment is safe.”

“Good cat. Come on, Snuggle Muffin. Come to mama.” Scarlett clicked her tongue and wiggled her fingers.

Snuggle Muffin let out a gravelly meow and trotted toward them. His tiny paws tapped softly across the wooden floor as he weaved through their arms in a slow, fluffy figure-eight.

Kiki squealed. “So affectionate! That’s a strong affiliative response.”

“Whatever that means,” Scarlett said with a playful giggle. “Sounds good to me, though.”

The cat flopped onto his side with a dramatic thud. Scarlett rubbed the thick fur on his pudgy belly. “Look at this big, fat, ugly idiot. I love him already.”

Kiki shot Scarlett a sly glance. “If you're not careful, this will be the first of many cats.”

Scarlett laughed. “I don’t think so. I’m still nervous about taking care of this one. It feels like such a huge responsibility.”

“Cats are low-maintenance,” Kiki reassured her, rubbing the cat’s belly as well. “This one seems pretty easy going, too. High sociability, low stress threshold—very cooperative. I doubt you’ll need help from me.”

“But you promised,” Scarlett playfully whined. “What if he poops on the floor?”

“Then clean it up and change his litterbox.” Kiki rolled her eyes. “Don't worry. If you have any questions, I’ll be glad to offer my advice. I’m just feeling pretty confident that you won’t need it.”

Scarlett watched as the cat rolled onto his paws and trotted toward the hallway, his little bell jingling as he disappeared down the stairs. “Okay, okay. I see your point. But you better come over immediately if he starts clawing my books.”

Kiki covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “I will, I promise. Tomorrow we’ll get him a scratching post and some toys to redirect that behavior before it starts. My treat, birthday girl.”

Scarlett leaned back on her palms and stared across the hallway into the kitchen, where the ceiling lamp was still gently swaying. “You’re the best, Kiki. Thanks again—for everything.”

Kiki rested her head on the gloomy girl’s shoulder. “Hey, Scarlett. I know you're going through a hard time. Just know that I’ll always be here if you ever need to talk or vent.”

“I’m alright,” Scarlett said softly, resting her cheek on top of Kiki’s head. “Thanks for staying over. You really cheered me up.”

“Of course.” Kiki stood up and stretched her arms over her head, a deep yawn escaping. “I’m starting to get a little tired. How about you?”

Scarlett glanced at the clock on her computer screen. “It’s still kind of early for me but I wouldn’t mind laying down. It's been a long day so I’m a bit worn out mentally.”

Kiki was already rummaging through the dresser drawers. “Perfect. The return of my classic pajama ensemble.” She pulled out a pair of oversized black and gray sweatpants and held them up triumphantly.

“Yep, no problem. Just make yourself at home.” Scarlett watched her friend with a warm smile. “You gonna take a shower?”

“Mhm.” Kiki tucked the clothes under her arm. “I’ll be quick. I’ve got an early lecture tomorrow: Avian cognition.”

Scarlett gave her a thumbs up and turned to make the bed as Kiki stepped out. “Too bad you can’t stay longer,” she murmured once she was alone.

Fluffing the pillows and smoothing out the blanket brought a small sense of calm, the rhythmic motions grounding her thoughts. After she heard the soft click of the bathroom door latching, she gathered the leftover pizza and carried it into the kitchen, sliding the pan into the fridge.

The buzzing light overhead dimmed and rattled. Scarlett winced, closing one eye and covering her ear as she made her way back into the bedroom. The lamp on her nightstand was already on, but its glow was faint and uneven, casting jittery shadows against the walls. She grimaced at the weak illumination.

Still dressed in her new shirt and jeans, she crawled into bed. Her gaze locked onto the ceiling, unmoving, while the sound of Kiki’s cheerful humming carried through the hallway. The melody was carefree and light, wrapping around her like a protective layer—but beneath it, Scarlett felt a creeping sense of unease stir.

She tugged the hair tie from her ponytail and lazily tossed it toward the desk. Then she closed her eyes, willing some semblance of peace to settle over her. But when she opened them again, the room had plunged into unnatural darkness.

The dim lamp flickered, then with a loud click, it blinked out completely.

A crushing veil of black settled over the bedroom, swallowing the faintest speckles of light. The air was cold and heavy, and Scarlett’s breaths shortened.

“What do you want?” she whispered into the void.

From above, black tendrils began to drip down—slow, viscous, and silent. They reached toward her, but never quite touched, hanging just beyond her reach like living strands of smoke.

Her heart seemed to stall. Time itself stood still. But instead of fear, a crushing wave of loneliness welled up inside her. Not panic—just sorrow. A deep, aching solitude that pressed on her ribs and seeped into her bones.

Kiki’s humming still echoed faintly—but something was wrong. The melody had warped. Notes bent in unnatural ways, off-key and dissonant. It wasn’t Kiki’s voice anymore.

And then, like a flicker of light in the dark, the real Kiki returned—wrapped in a towel, laughing softly as she stepped into the room. Scarlett blinked, and the world shifted.

The shadows vanished. The lamp shone steadily again. The room was whole.

Kiki turned on a blow dryer, the noise grounding. Scarlett watched as golden strands of hair danced in the warm air, haloed by the bedside light. It was ordinary, and for that, it was precious.

“I like your new shower curtain,” Kiki said as she slipped under the blankets. “Cute loggerheads.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Scarlett raised an eyebrow, her voice raspy and dry.

“Sea turtles,” Kiki clarified with a giggle. “Those orange ones are loggerheads. They’re my second favorite species—after greens, of course.”

Scarlett wiped at her eyes, not realizing they’d gone dry. A lump caught in her throat. “Ah. Cool. Thanks.”

Kiki rolled onto her side, her eyes soft but inquisitive as she studied her friend’s face. “You okay? What's on your mind?”

Scarlett reached over and plucked off Kiki’s glasses, placing them on top of the bed frame. “I was just thinking about sea turtles with plastic straws stuck in their noses. So sad.”

“Fine. Goodnight, dummy.” Kiki stuck her tongue out, then closed her eyes and snuggled up against the pillow.

“Goodnight,” Scarlett whispered, though she kept her own eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, Kiki was snoring softly, the rise and fall of her breath steady and calm.

Chapter 4

Scarlett blinked. Her eyes had fixed themselves on a narrow shaft of light slipping through a gap in the curtains. Dust floated in the beam—rising, falling, vanishing. Her thoughts began to churn.

How long had she been staring at it? What time was it? It had only just been 11 p.m., hadn’t it? Or had hours passed? Minutes? Seconds?

She couldn’t say.

Kiki’s alarm chirped softly, and she stirred with a groggy groan. Stretching her arms over her head, she yawned and blinked against the early morning light.

“Alright… time for me to head out,” she mumbled, her voice rough with sleep. She slid out from beneath the blankets and began gathering her things. “Keep me posted on Snuggle Muffin’s behavior, okay? And let me know when you’re free to go shopping for his supplies.”

“Will do.” Scarlett propped herself up on one elbow, watching her friend with a faint smile. As Kiki made her way to the door, Scarlett slipped out of bed and followed her downstairs. “I’ll probably keep snoozing after you go. I have an appointment in a couple hours, and I need all the rest I can get.”

“Sounds like a solid plan. Good luck, Scarlett.” Kiki leaned in, standing on her toes to press her forehead gently to her friend’s. The moment was brief but comforting, warm like sunlight slipping between storm clouds. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye bye.” Scarlett waited until Kiki stepped out, then quietly locked the front door behind her. The store immediately felt darker in her absence.

Trudging back upstairs, she climbed into the still-warm bed, rolled onto her back, and closed her eyes.

“Six in the morning,” she muttered, peeking at the clock. “Thirty more minutes.”

But before she could fully drift off, a sudden jingle jolted her awake, then four heavy paws landed squarely on her chest.

She gasped, flinching—but the moment of panic quickly melted as a deep purring vibrated against her sternum.

“Ouch, hello,” Scarlett whispered as she reached down and scratched the cat’s head, who affectionately nuzzled himself against her fingers.

“Azurie, come meet our newest family member,” Scarlett spoke with authority, as if she was commanding a child to do a chore.

The cat stared blankly past Scarlett with his tongue poking out, still purring and soaking up his owner’s affection.

Scarlett patted his rump and scratched his chin, her eyes wandering around the room. There was still no sign of her ghostly sister.

She sighed softly, then nudged the cat off her chest and slid out of bed. She then began her morning routine by walking into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

As she brushed, she opened the mirror cabinet to grab a nearly empty bottle of anxiety medication.

Only two pills left. She sighed, then shoved the cabinet door shut.

In the mirror’s reflection, her sister stood silently behind her. She stood still in the doorway, illuminated only by the cold blue light of morning.

Nearly choking on her toothpaste, her instincts screamed at her to turn around and face the apparition. Instead, she forced herself to continue brushing, her movements slow and stiff.

Foam bubbled at the corners of her mouth as her eyes met her sister’s in the mirror. The ghost didn’t blink.

“Good morning, Azurie,” she mumbled, her tone oddly gentle despite the foamy toothpaste in her mouth. “You sure are showing up a lot these days, aren’t you…”

She kept her eyes locked on the mirror. Her sister stood just beyond the bathroom threshold—silent, motionless—a faint blue glow barely separating her from the shadows pooling in the hallway. Scarlett tried to maintain her breathing and to act unfazed.

Her false sense of control crumbled when the ghost took a step forward. The darkness followed her. Shadows stretched outward from each footfall, blooming and spilling into the bathroom like ink dropped into water. The weak morning light recoiled, swallowed without a trace.

Scarlett’s heartbeat thudded violently in her ears. She rinsed her mouth in a rush and reached for the pill bottle, her fingers fumbling with the stubborn childproof cap.

That’s when she felt the icy press of a spectral grasp resting over her own hand. Scarlett’s eyes snapped up.

In the mirror, Azurie was now directly behind her, close enough to feel her breath if she had any. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, lifeless, but somehow didn’t show malevolence.

Scarlett spun around, hoping that her sister would vanish before she completed the motion. But Azurie remained. The twins stood face to face, surrounded by an infinite abyss.

The bathroom had vanished. The mirror, the sink, the tiles, and the rest were nowhere to be seen. Around them stretched a featureless void, black and endless. There was no ceiling, no floor, no walls—only the two of them suspended in space. The only glimmer of light came from Azurie’s ethereal body.

“Are you real?” Scarlett whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of fear and disbelief.

In response there was a cacophony of whispers. They came from nowhere and everywhere, distant and yet echoing inside her skull. She could feel them brushing the edges of her mind like a million spiders crawling through her skull.

Amidst the unintelligible gibberish, the utterance of her name surfaced in fragments—Scarlett... Scarlett... Scarlett...

She focused on her sister’s face. Azurie looked calm, almost worried. Her once hopelessly lifeless eyes glimmered.

“Do you want to tell me something?” Scarlett asked with panic in her voice, indistinct whispers still ringing in her ears.

Azurie slowly tilted her head, and the whispers slowed, becoming more deliberate. She twitched, then hesitantly reached up to grab Scarlett’s hand. Her light flickered, dipping out of existence for a brief moment.

Scarlett took her sister’s hand.

And then, among the endless whispers, a voice emerged. It was a voice that sounded almost like her own, but a little younger, more fragile.

“Please don’t die…”

Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. She stepped back in alarm, Azurie’s cold fingers slipping from her grasp like melting ice.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

Azurie didn’t answer. Her gaze dropped, sorrow clouding her face, and she slowly turned away.

Then—without warning—a massive black hand burst from the void above, seizing Scarlett’s head and tilting it backward with monstrous strength. Her throat exposed, she didn’t have time to scream before a dagger from the darkness swept across her skin, slicing deep, clutched by the towering entity standing behind her.

Blood spilled down her chest and pooled in her mouth. Scarlett gasped and choked, stumbling forward blindly. She reached out for her sister, grasping for something, for anything—but Azurie was gone.

With the final lace of light extinguished, Scarlett folded in her trembling arms. In the dark, she could only feel the warm stickiness of her own blood coating her fingers.

Her legs buckled beneath her, growing weaker with each beat of her failing heart. She crashed into the sink, then collapsed to the cold tile floor. The air was heavy, cold, and thick. Pain surged through her body in frantic pulses, until a glimmer of dim blue light caught her eye.

Above her, Azurie had reappeared. Her expression was heart-wrenching—no longer distant, but concerned, perhaps even desperate. She stood in place, fading from reality, like a flickering lightbulb on the verge of extinguishing.

The shadows writhed around her like a nest of serpents. One tendril reached out and coiled around Scarlett’s limp hand, tightening with a jarring level of strength. Scarlett winced, too weak to resist.

Azurie’s eyes snapped to the contact. She then shut her eyes and seemed to tense up, as if she was forcing herself to dissolve with purpose. Her form unraveled into mist, faster and faster, fighting to vanish, to drag the shadows away with her.

In an instant, the darkness collapsed inward in a violent spiraling vortex, slipping out of existence.

The world snapped back to normal. The tiny bathroom was still. The lightbulb buzzed softly overhead. There were no signs of blood, no shadows, only faded tiles and toothpaste smudges on the mirror.

Scarlett remained frozen, gasping for breath.

The incident had greatly exceeded the intensity of her previous encounters, and her eyes locked onto the small purple bruise on her wrist.

After several long moments, she crawled across the floor, spotted the pill bottle, and snatched it with a trembling hand. The cap resisted her frantic attempts until, with a pop, it came loose. She threw back both pills without water and flung the empty bottle across the room. It clattered uselessly against the tub.

Her arms wrapped around her head as she collapsed again, rocking back and forth, sniffling and sobbing.

Jolts of agony radiated out from her heart, rippling like ceaseless waves through her entire body, ending in her fingertips. With each burst of emotional turmoil, more tears slipped between her weary eyelids.

Scarlett’s mind was a whirlpool of chaos, any semblance of a coherent thought was swept away in the torrent. A deadly concoction of guilt and confusion filled her body like poison.

Reduced to a sobbing wreck and exhausted beyond measure, Scarlett slipped into unconsciousness beneath the bathroom sink, her body curled in the dust and dirt like a forgotten child.

Sometime later, Scarlett meandered down the road toward Dr. Cheng’s office. Though the sun blazed in a clear blue sky, the morning air was sharp, the wind biting through her jacket. Puddles left by yesterday’s rain shimmered with thin rings of frost around their edges. She had considered driving, but ultimately decided the short trip wasn't worth the fuel. As the coldness settled deeper into her bones, she began to regret that decision.

After a few minutes of walking, she reached a long bridge that shook beneath the roar of traffic. Halfway across, she paused and leaned over the guardrail. Below, a scenic railway cut through a quiet nature reserve nestled between two evergreen-covered hills. It was a beautiful view—until an intrusive thought shattered it: a train slicing through her mangled corpse.

I could do it.

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, suddenly considering that she might need to see her therapist more than she’d like to admit. As she walked across the bridge, her eyes were once again drawn to her bruised wrist. The mark left behind on her skin was new to her. She recalled the countless times she had hallucinated receiving brutal injuries—cuts, broken bones, stabbings, even dismembered limbs, but until now the damage had always vanished along with the shadows.

Scarlett shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, then continued on, leaving her familiar neighborhood behind. Beyond the bridge, high-rise buildings loomed in the distance—her destination just a few blocks ahead. A quick glance at her phone told her she was running late, and she picked up her pace.

She pushed through the doors of the building and offered the receptionist a half-hearted nod before heading straight to Cheng’s office.

Dr. Cheng looked up from his clipboard, his expression shifting from surprise to mild exasperation. “Good morning, Scarlett. You do remember you’re supposed to wait in the lobby until I call you in?”

Scarlett shrugged off her coat and crossed her legs in the seat across from his desk. “You said come here at eight o’clock, and it’s eight, so…”

Cheng let his initial annoyance slip away as he took in her disheveled appearance. Concern softened his voice. “You don’t look like you’re doing well at all. Let’s get started then.”

She flinched. “Get started with what? Isn’t this just a formality so you can refill my prescription without getting in trouble?”

“I said I’d waive my fee—my fee for counseling,” Cheng replied, adjusting his notepad. “But I still need to reevaluate you before prescribing anything. It’s been two years, Scarlett. I don’t even know how you still have any pills left.”

He flipped to a blank page. “Now, do you have anything you'd like to start with, or should I begin the questions?”

Scarlett groaned, her seat suddenly very uncomfortable. “I only take the pills around this time of year. That’s why they lasted. I don’t know what else to say—let’s just get this over with.”

Cheng expressed a pang of disappointment. “After two whole years, not even a hello? You don’t seem very happy to see me.”

“It’s not you. I’m just unhappy in general,” she said honestly. “I’ve got a lot of stress—stuff that doesn’t involve my sister—and I need the pills to cope.”

In typical fashion, Cheng began jotting down notes. “Is running your family’s store giving you more trouble than usual?” he asked, his voice neutral.

Scarlett shook her head. “Not particularly, no. But losing my parents’ health coverage last year has been a burden. I’m still paying them for the store—which I owe a small fortune on—plus all my other bills and lot rent… and with my birthday on top of everything, it’s just a lot. Sometimes I don’t even know how I get by.”

“That all sounds about par for the course.” Dr. Cheng gave a small chuckle. “Adulthood’s full of stress. Believe me, I’ve had my fair share trying to keep this practice afloat.”

Scarlett wiped her nose on her sleeve and sat quietly.

Cheng pressed on, his tone gentler. “Well, onto the hard part. I know this time of year hits you hardest. How have you been feeling about your sister’s passing?”

Scarlett shifted in her seat, her posture growing guarded. Her messy hair fell over her forehead as she stared down at her shoes, then slowly looked up to meet his gaze.

“What do you wanna know?” she asked, her voice low and raspy.

The doctor leaned back and took a moment, contemplating how best to answer her question. “In years prior, back when you were seeing me regularly, you mentioned experiencing vivid hallucinations of your sister’s ghost in the months leading up to the anniversary of her death. Are you still having those experiences?”

Scarlett scoffed and offered a limp shrug. “It’s amazing to me how you can just ask that like it’s a totally normal question.”

“When directed towards you, Scarlett, this is a perfectly normal question to ask.” Cheng stroked his beard and lowered the notepad slightly. “So please answer it.”

She sat up straighter, her hands clenched into fists. After a moment’s hesitation, she gave herself a small nod. “Okay, fine. Yes, I’ve been seeing her again. A lot, actually. But there’s something more important you should know.”

Cheng lifted his notepad. “I’m listening.”

Scarlett leaned forward and spoke with a sense of urgency. “Alright, so I’m not the only one who’s seen her now. My friend Riley, to whom I’ve never once mentioned my sister’s ghost or anything like that at all, said she saw her too. And she said she knows my sister’s ghost is living in my home.”

Cheng slowly lowered his pen, a faint shadow of disappointment passing over his face. “That is… very interesting. Have you spoken to Riley about your own experiences since then?”

Scarlett pulled back, defensive. “Well, no. I haven’t seen her since. But that doesn’t matter! Don’t you see what this means? I’m not crazy!”

Cheng placed his notepad on the table, then folded his hands together. His analytical eyes took on a hint of sympathy.

“Scarlett, no one ever said you were crazy. Grief manifests in different ways, and this is how your mind has processed a traumatic loss. I understand why this feels like validation, but let’s take a step back.”

She sat in silence, her eyes wide and brimming with emotion.

Cheng took a deep breath, choosing his next words with care. “Your friend Riley isn’t necessarily confirming your house is haunted. Try to imagine being in her shoes—she may not know the details, but she knows you, and your history. It’s easy to let fear or imagination fill in the blanks. That’s how most ghost sightings happen. Someone sees something strange, and their brain scrambles to make sense of it—usually with a supernatural explanation already in mind.”

He glanced down at his notes, then back up at her. “But for you, it’s different. Your visions are deeply rooted in your psyche. That distinction is important.”

Scarlett slumped back into her seat, frustration weighing heavy in her chest. “It’s always the same with you. No matter what, I can never prove it. Even with a witness.”

Cheng furrowed his brow, a deep concern brewing. “Scarlett, you need to let this go. As I understood it, you had finally accepted that these encounters with your sister were illusions. Illusions, Scarlett—a coping mechanism.”

Scarlett’s jaw clenched. Her voice rose, sharp and desperate. “How can they be illusions if I’m not the only one who’s seen her?!”

Cheng twirled his pen slowly between his fingers, leaning slightly to one side as he watched her. “Even after fifteen years, you’re still struggling to process her death. And that’s okay—but you’ve made progress, Scarlett. Don’t let yourself backslide now. These manifestations aren’t real. The more you reinforce them, the further you drift from reality.”

He gave a long pause, then added softly, “You need to accept that she’s gone. Don’t forget, Scarlett: Acceptance will set you free.”

Scarlett slammed her balled up fists onto the table. “You’re still ignoring me after fifteen years! Enough already with this generic shrink bullshit. I know Azurie’s dead! I’m not trying to pretend she isn’t. That’s not what this is!”

The doctor held her gaze, slowly nodding. “I hear you, Scarlett. And I promise you, I haven’t ignored a single word you’ve said, not once. Now let’s take a minute to calm down.”

Scarlett had balled up, her feet on the chair as she turned away from the therapist. She was rubbing the bruise on her wrist with her thumb.

Cheng noticed her behavior. “What happened to your arm?”

A dozen possible answers scattered across Scarlett’s mind, and she lowered her eyebrows, lost in thought. “I’m not really sure…”

“As long as it’s not self-inflicted.” Cheng added, carefully observing her reaction to his statement.

Scarlett put on half a frown and slowly shook her head.

After a brief pause, Cheng gently shifted the conversation. “Well then, I’m a little curious—how close are you and Riley?”

Scarlett crossed her arms, tucking her marked wrist out of sight. “She’s pretty much my best friend. Not sure she feels the same, though.”

“What gives you that impression?” he pried further.

Scarlett turned away to think, somehow finding comfort in the darkness that settled into the corner of the room. “Nothing specific. It’s just that she has way better friends than me. I’m no one’s favorite person, and I get that.”

Cheng tilted his head with a thoughtful smile. “If you’re fond enough of her to refer to her as your best friend, then I’d wager you’re more important to her than you realize.”

Cheng then lifted a finger into the air as if he just had an epiphany. “Why don’t you bring her here next week? We could all talk—clear the air about what you both saw.”

Scarlett unleashed a bitter laugh and cupped her face. “Great idea, Doc. I’ll bring my already creeped-out friend to my therapist to talk about ghosts. I’m sure she’ll love that…”

Cheng chuckled, unfazed by her sarcasm. “Fair enough. We can revisit the idea later.” He flipped to a clean page in his notepad. “Alright, one last thing before we wrap up—tell me about the episode you had yesterday.”

Scarlett stiffened, her posture tightening as the memory returned. “I got bored and fell asleep while listening to the rain. Then I had a bad dream about… Azurie. Uhm, I woke up when a customer came in, but I was so anxious about it that I couldn’t breathe. It was pretty embarrassing.”

“I see, and how did you calm yourself down?” Dr. Cheng followed up with a flick of his pen.

Scarlett looked up at the ceiling, and her words came out slower. “I ran upstairs and took some pills, drank some water. After a couple minutes, I was okay again, but I’m afraid to think of what would happen if I ran out of meds.”

Cheng looked her over for a while, his prying stare lingering much longer than Scarlett had anticipated, then his shoulders drooped down.

“Today has been illuminating, Scarlett. You’re not a danger to yourself or others, so I’ll keep your evaluation consistent with the last.” He scribbled on his prescription pad, tore the sheet free, and slid it across the desk. “Here’s your prescription. Now, go home and find a decent insurance provider. If you need help, my receptionist can give you some options.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Scarlett grabbed the paper and slipped into her coat.

Just as her hand reached the doorknob, Cheng called after her.

“Oh, one last thing.”

She froze, but didn’t look back.

“I know you’re depressed, but do yourself a favor. Take a shower. Brush your hair. Put on some clean clothes. Take care of yourself—it helps more than you think.”

A sharp sting of shame bloomed in her chest. Her cheeks flushed with heat.

“I will,” she muttered quietly, then slipped out the door.

As it clicked shut behind her, she lifted her unzipped jacket and sniffed her underarm. Not terrible, just a hint of sweat—but what really stood out was the cling of dust and stray hairs from her bathroom floor. Flustered, she gritted her teeth and brushed the grime away, letting it fall to the lobby floor.

She pushed through the medical building’s doors and stepped into the crisp afternoon air. Forcing thoughts of her hygiene out of her head, she grabbed her phone and gave Riley a call. It rang four or five times. She was just about to hang up and switch to a text when a familiar voice picked up.

“Eyyy, sup Scars.”

Scarlett couldn’t help but smirk. “Hey, Riley. I was wondering if you’re free for lunch at Westgate Plaza. I just saw my therapist, and… I’ve got something important I really, really need to talk to you about.”

After a long pause, Riley finally answered. “Uhm, sure, that’s fine. I was just about to go on my lunch break anyway. I’ll see you in five.”

The call ended with a beep, and Scarlett groaned, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “I just saw my therapist? God I’m so fucking lame,” she muttered under her breath.

She stood on the sidewalk at the entrance to the plaza—a bustling strip lined with shops and restaurants. Her eyes drifted down the road toward the Sulland Zoo, where Riley worked security. Just then, the roar of an approaching motorcycle snapped her out of her thoughts.

A sleek black sport bike pulled smoothly into the parking lot. Its rider hopped off and gave Scarlett a wave with two leather-clad fingers.

Scarlett caught her reflection in the glossy black face shield of Riley’s helmet. “I look like shit.”

“Thanks for not making me say it,” Riley teased, lifting her helmet to reveal her long black hair and a familiar, charming smile. “So—what’s for lunch?”

“I could go for a big greasy burger. Anything but Chinese.” Scarlett started walking toward a row of fast-food joints. “Cheng pissed me off today.”

Riley chuckled as she followed. “What’d he say this time?”

Scarlett rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist dismissively. “The usual. Basically just keeps calling me a liar. That’s actually why I called you—I need you to confirm something.”

The two walked into a cozy burger spot and placed their orders, then took a seat at a table near the window. The aroma of grilled meat and fries brought on a nostalgic comfort.

“So,” Riley said, leaning back in her seat. “What exactly do you need me to confirm?”

Scarlett let her jacket slip from her shoulders and got comfortable. “Okay, so last night, I was talking with Kiki, and she told me you saw a ghost in my shop.”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “That’s what this is about?”

“Yes!” Scarlett nodded eagerly. “I need to hear everything. And don’t be mad at Kiki—I pretty much forced it out of her.”

Riley scratched the back of her neck, then started laughing. “Wow. Damn. Okay, uh… sorry to disappoint, but it’s nothing. I was just messing with Kiki—trying to freak her out. Guess it worked.”

Scarlett’s face fell. She crossed her arms, pulling into herself. “What do you mean? Kiki said she’d never seen you that scared before. Come on, Riley. If you saw something, you can tell me. I need to know.”

Riley looked away. “Alright, well… Kiki’s talking about something that happened a long time ago. I made her promise not to tell anyone.”

Scarlett leaned forward slightly, the hope creeping back in. “Well, the secret’s out now. Can I hear it? Please? It’s important.”

“Shit, man… it’s really nothing.” Riley sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what even happened. I thought I saw someone, did a double take, and there was no one there. I’m sure it was just my eyes playing tricks or something, not a big deal, but it kind of freaked me out in the moment.”

Scarlett covered her face with both hands and sank into her seat.

Riley cleared her throat and continued, her voice softer now. “I told Kiki what I saw because I was a little scared at the time, but it wasn’t really that scary. Then I saw she was freaked out too, so I kept playing into it. I said a lot of dumb shit about your place being haunted even after I realized it was probably just my imagination or whatever. I didn’t mean for it to get back to you, considering… everything, you know. It’s all really stupid and I never should have let it get this far, so I’m sorry if it caused problems.”

Scarlett peeked through her fingers and shook her head. “I’m the problem. I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m so embarrassed. Can we just pretend this conversation never happened?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting off the hook that easy.” Riley reached across the table and gently pulled Scarlett’s hands away from her face. “Now you’ve gotta tell me what this is really about.”

Scarlett stared at the table, her thoughts spinning. “I’m a crazy moron. That’s the truth. I told Cheng you saw Azurie, and it turned into this whole big thing. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Riley said as she wiped her nose with her thumb and slouched back in the booth. “I’m the one who ran my mouth and ended up hurting you. I should have known better. It doesn’t matter if I saw something or not, I should have kept it to myself.”

Before she could answer, their order number was called. Scarlett glanced away, then rose slowly and shuffled over to the counter to grab the food. When she returned, she barely made eye contact. She picked at her burger, taking small, careful bites. Her hands trembled just enough for Riley to notice.

“Scarlett,” Riley began, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Do you wanna talk about something else? You know… like, whatever’s really going on with you? I’m not trying to minimize anything here, but I doubt that me messing with Kiki about your store being haunted is the main issue.”

Scarlett froze mid-bite, her jaw tensing as she looked into Riley’s eyes. Her heart pounded against her ribs. “The truth is… I’m terrified, Riley. I keep feeling like something bad is going to happen to me. That darkness, those shadows—they’re worse than ever now. So much worse. I feel like I’m trapped in a room with someone who hates me… someone who wants me dead, and there’s no way out. No choice but to just endure it. And sometimes I think I want to just give up and let it kill me... I’m so tired. I hate myself. And I know I can’t live like this forever.”

“Yoohoo, Scarlett,” Riley’s voice cut through the fog, light and teasing as she waved her hand in front of Scarlett’s face. “Anyone home?”

Scarlett blinked a few times, the buzzing in her ears fading. “Yeah, sorry. Zoned out for a sec. I’m just really tired.” She took a big bite of her burger and forced a smile.

“So…” Riley leaned forward again. “Like I said—what’s up with you these days? You can talk to me about anything, alright?”

“Jeez, you sound like my therapist,” Scarlett joked with a soft chuckle, then waved the question away. “I’m okay, really. This time of year is just… awkward sometimes.”

Riley huffed, easing back into her typical upbeat self. “Okay good, because even though I love you, I’m shit at handling emotional, girly friendship stuff.”

“Yeah, same. Let’s leave that crap to Kiki and Tahni,” Scarlett replied.

Once they finished eating, Riley stood up to gather their trash. “Thanks for treating me. I gotta get back to work, though. I’ll see ya later.”

“Anytime,” Scarlett said, standing to give Riley a quick hug. “I’ve got to meet up with Kiki soon anyway—we’re shopping for cat toys and whatever else. Be safe, okay?”

Riley turned to go but paused, one foot already out the door. “Hey, Scars?”

Scarlett’s brow lifted. She caught the subtle change in Riley’s voice, serious yet hesitant.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Riley said, her tone drawn out and awkward. “How did Azurie die? Ever since you told me you actually did it, I’ve been wondering. And, shit, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s totally fine—I won’t keep asking. But maybe talking about it could help?”

Scarlett’s stomach turned to stone, but she kept her voice even. “Hey, how about we have lunch again tomorrow? I’ll tell you what I can. A lot of my memories from that day are just… gone. But I know the gist of what happened. And you should feel special—because I’ve never told anyone. Not even my therapist. He’s been practically begging me to say it in my own words for fifteen years.”

“That’s awesome. Sounds like a plan.” Riley grinned, strapping on her helmet. “I’m treating you next time.”

She headed out, then flashed a peace sign over her shoulder as she hopped on her bike and rode off.

Scarlett watched until the sound of the engine faded into the distance, leaving behind the hum of afternoon traffic and the weight of everything left unsaid. Slowly, she began her walk home.

Her thoughts were a tangled fog, haunted by the same question that had clawed at her mind for years—Were the things she saw real? Did such a distinction even matter?

A familiar, heavy dread settled over her as she rubbed her aching wrist. A faint bruise encircled the skin—right where the shadow had gripped her in the bathroom. The mark was subtle, but undeniable. Her stomach twisted. If it can really hurt me, doesn’t that make it real?

Her eyes widened with another thought, and a slight weight lifted off her shoulders.

Acceptance will set you free.

The thought of Azurie waiting for her to return home alongside her new pet flooded into her heart. Both of them were equally as real through Scarlett’s eyes. She took a deep breath and stared up into the deep blue sky, releasing a foggy puff of warm air from her lungs. Finally, a grin crept across her cheeks.

I accept it. She’s real.

Then reality slapped her in the face as she realized she agreed to explain Azurie’s death to Riley—a truth she could never reveal. Her already unsettled stomach knotted up and she feared she might puke. Managing to hold it down, she clutched her aching hand and picked up her pace.

Bits and pieces of her tenth birthday swirled around in her mind’s eye. It was a day that would haunt her for the rest of her life. She pondered which made-up scenario to tell Riley. There were hundreds to choose from, but one thing she knew for certain: The truth was not an option.

Chapter 5

Fifteen years ago, Scarlett and Azurie were walking home from school. Scarlett clutched a bundle of birthday cards and a small bag of gifts, urging her sister forward as they picked up their pace. It was a chilly November afternoon. The sky hung low and gray, and the streets were quiet.

The calm was shattered by the voice of a boy approaching from behind.

“Hey, creep sisters!”

Scarlett placed a protective hand on her sister’s backpack and whispered, “Ignore them. Let’s hurry home.”

THWACK

A rock slammed into Azurie’s shoulder. She let out a startled squeal, crouching down and covering her head with trembling arms.

Scarlett spun around, fury burning in her eyes. “Hey, stupid! You better stop or my dad will kick your butt!”

The bully laughed, tossing another rock lazily in one hand while his little gang snickered behind him. “Oh, I’m so scared,” he mocked before hurling it.

Scarlett threw up her arms to block it, but the rock slipped between them and smashed into her lip. She fell back onto her elbows, dazed and bleeding. The group of boys erupted into laughter before they ran off.

Azurie scrambled to her sister’s side and helped her back onto her feet. Their birthday cards scattered down the pavement in the wind.

“Come on,” Azurie urged. “Let’s hurry.”

A small pool of blood dripped into Scarlett’s hands, along with a tooth. Her lip throbbed and her scraped elbows burned. With tears filling up her eyes, she screamed, “I hate them!”

“Me too,” Azurie murmured, gently pulling on her sleeve. “Let’s go tell Mom and Dad, okay?”

But Scarlett yanked herself away, dropping to her knees and crawling after the scattered cards. Azurie knelt beside her and silently helped. By the time they reached home, the cards were crushed, bent, and blood-speckled.

The twins tried to explain what happened, their voices tangled and panicked, overlapping one another.

Their dad simply leaned against the table with a hand over his eyes, silent and exasperated. Their mother trembled with rage and immediately began a barrage of furious phone calls.

A few minutes later, their father dabbed Scarlett’s split lip with rubbing alcohol. The sting was sharp, but it couldn’t compare to the blaze of rage spreading in her chest.

“You two should go upstairs and play,” he said, voice heavy. “Let your mother and I handle this.”

Azurie obediently took her sister’s hand and led her upstairs. Scarlett plopped onto the floor at the foot of the bed, arms wrapped around her knees. Azurie sat beside her, nervously swinging her legs.

Scarlett stared at her sister through the curtain of her bangs. Her voice was low and full of venom. “I swear, I’ll kill them.”

Azurie recoiled, clutching her ears to block out the hostile words. “Don’t say that, Scarlett. You’re scaring me.”

She curled up into a ball and tugged the blankets over her head.

Scarlett looked back down, but the fire in her eyes didn’t dim. She imagined vivid scenarios of revenge, and how she’d exact it.

Hours later, the house was quiet. Scarlett shook her sister awake.

“Look, Azurie. I’ll make sure those stupid idiots never mess with us again.”

Azurie blinked her groggy eyes open and tried to focus her vision. Suddenly a shimmering piece of metal came into view. It was a curved blade—Their father’s fishing knife.

“Scarlett,” Azurie hissed. “You're gonna get in trouble if Dad sees you playing with that.”

“I’m not playing.” Scarlett dragged the knife across her throat in a slow, grim pantomime. “Let’s go to Trevor’s house a get him.”

“I don’t wanna get grounded,” Azurie urgently whispered, then sat up and reached for the knife.

Scarlett recoiled as Azurie grabbed her hand. In the struggle, the blade sliced a small gash across Scarlett’s wrist.

She stared at the cut. A drop of blood welled up and trickled down her arm. Her breathing quickened, shallow and erratic. She covered her face with her trembling hand, fingernails digging into her cheek.

Azurie dropped the knife and covered her mouth. “Scarlett, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

A pulsing ache grew in Scarlett’s hand after she retrieved the knife from the floor. A moment of disbelief struck her heart, then it was replaced with seething, unbridled rage.

Shadows twitched at the edge of her vision—wriggling, laughing, slithering like snakes. A jagged, black grin bloomed across Azurie’s face, stretching unnaturally. Behind her, the wall split open in a wave of liquid shadow, writhing and taunting her.

The sight caused Scarlett’s anger to boil over. She lunged toward her sister and swung the knife.

A thin red line bloomed across Azurie’s neck. Her small hands flew to the wound. Blood pulsed between her fingers, staining her pajamas and the bed beneath.

“Scarlett,” she gurgled, eyes wide and terrified as her throat filled with blood. “I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

Scarlett stood frozen, the knife slipping from her fingers as her sister collapsed, twitching and kicking violently. She watched Azurie writhe on the bloodsoaked bed, still desperately clinging to her neck. Everything in her mind screamed at her to cry for help, but she could only stand there, paralyzed.

Her ears filled with a deafening, screeching static, until amidst the chaotic jumble, a single word made itself known.

“Scarlett,” a disembodied whisper reverberated from wall to wall.

“Scarlett.”

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Dead and Gone

By Kuya B.

Google Doc Link

Drops of Scarlett

Dead and Gone

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

If you enjoyed this story, please consider Supporting Me. Thank you for reading!