Harper's Watch
[Harper’s Phone | 1:50 AM]
(The buzz pulls Harper out of half-sleep. She groans, reaching blindly across her nightstand. The glow of the screen stings her eyes. It’s from Ava. One line. Chilling.)
Ava
[Sent 1:49 AM]: if anything happens to me…don’t look out the window.
(Harper blinks, heart thudding. Ava doesn’t text like this—not unless she’s spiraling. Harper pushes herself upright, tangled in sheets. She types quickly.)
Harper
Ava?? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.
(No reply. The typing bubble doesn’t even appear. Harper’s pulse quickens. She stares at the message, chewing her lip, then hears it—tick… tick… tick—her wall clock suddenly loud, deliberate. She swallows. It wasn’t this loud before. Was it? Then another buzz.)
UKNOWN
You’re awake too. Good.
(Her stomach drops. “Unknown.” No number. Just a blank contact. She sits frozen, phone heavy in her hand. Finally, she types.)
(The answer comes fast, like it was waiting for her.)
UKNOWN
Ava thinks she’s the only one. She’s not.
(Cold spreads through her chest. Her fingers tremble as she types.)
Harper
What are you taking about? Where’s Ava?
UKNOWN
Do you want to know why Lily disappeared?
(Her mouth goes dry. She hasn’t heard that name in months—not out loud, not in text. No one dares bring it up around Ava. But here it is, slashed across her screen. She stares, the silence in her room pressing in tight.)
UKNOWN
Ava thinks Lilly was lost. She wasn’t. She was chosen.
(The word chosen claws at her mind, ugly and wrong. Her hands shake as she types again.)
Harper
Chosen for WHAT? Tell me!!!
(The typing bubble appears… then disappears. Her chest tightens. She can hear her breathing now, too loud in the dark. The bubble comes back. Vanishes again. Then—)
UKNOWN
You’ll see her soon.
Harper’s skin prickles. Then she hears it—scrrrk… scrrrk—a dragging sound outside, against the wall of her house. Not footsteps. Heavier. Slower. Her eyes flick to the curtains. They shiver as though something brushed them. She clamps a hand over her mouth. The clock ticks again. 1:53. Each second stretched thin like it’s about to snap.)
(Another buzz. She flinches, nearly dropping the phone. The message glares at her.)
UKNOWN
Don’t look outside. Ava didn’t listen either.
(Her chest heaves. Every muscle in her body tells her not to move, not to touch the curtain—but she sees it: a tall, motionless shadow cast faintly on the fabric. Her stomach twists. The shadow isn’t shaped like a person.)
(Her phone buzzes one last time. The words make her blood run cold.)
UKNOWN
Smile for me, Harper.
(Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Whoever’s out there—whatever’s out there—knows her name.)
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