EPISODE 2:
The words on the phone screen burned in Ava’s mind:
Every tick of the clock sounded louder. The gym felt smaller, suffocating. She wanted to scream, but instead, she didn’t
Ava
Noah, what do we do?
We only have hours.
Noah
We don’t panic. That’s rule number one.
Ava
Rule number one? Like you’ve written a survival guide for this thing.
Noah wasn’t joking. His expression was carved in stone — too calm for what was happening.
Noah
I’ve been writing things down.
Patterns. Times. Words it uses.
Stuff about Lily too.
Ava
And you never thought to share that sooner??
Noah
Would you have believed me before it texted you?
They left the gym quietly, slipping past parents sobbing into tissues and investigators scratching notes onto clipboards. The air outside was heavy with the gray promise of rain.
Their phones buzzed again.
But the more Noah insisted, the more Ava’s thumbs itched. She wanted to type back, to scream at it, to demand answers.
She shoved her phone into her pocket instead.
By the time they reached Noah’s house, the sun was setting. Shadows stretched long and jagged across the floorboards as they entered.
Noah’s room looked less like a bedroom and more like a war bunker. Papers tacked to the wall, scribbled timelines, words circled in red.
And in the middle: a single phrase, scrawled in black marker:
“SMILE FOR ME.”
He pulled a battered notebook from under his bed and tossed it onto the desk. Ava flipped through it. Page after page of notes.
• Victims.
• Times of disappearance.
• Messages.
• The hour.
• The words.
And always, always: 1:47.
Ava
All of them saw the same thing?
Noah
Yeah.
First, Smile for me. Hours gone. Memory erased.
Then later… Harm yourself. That’s the end.
The room was silent, except for the pounding of Ava’s heart. She flipped to the last page of the notebook.
A sketch. Not detailed — more like frantic lines slashed onto paper.
But she recognized it instantly.
The shadow.
The window rattled suddenly, the wind howling as if the house itself shivered at Noah’s words. Ava jumped, clutching the notebook to her chest.
Her phone buzzed. She almost dropped it.
UNKNOWN
Counting down, Ava. 6 hours left
Ava
Why does it keep using my name??
Noah
Because it’s personal now.
Noah
Ava. Listen to me.
We have to be ready.
Ava
Ready?? For what??
We can’t fight a shadow
Noah
Then we learn its rules.
Because rules mean it can be broken.
The hours crawled. The notebook lay open on the desk, its pages trembling with the draft from the rattling window.
Every tick of the clock dragged them closer.
Closer to 1:47.
And for the first time, Ava realized the terrifying truth:
It wasn’t just about surviving the night.
It was about surviving the game.
UNKNOWN
Smile, Ava. Just smile.
Her phone screen glowed in the dark.
And when she looked up, the corner of the room was darker than it should have been.
Something was standing there.
Watching.
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