Kayla sat on the edge of her bed, gripping the blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white. The air in her room felt heavier than usual, like the walls were closing in, like something unseen was watching her.
She couldn't ignore it anymore.
The whispers. The shadows. The feeling that something was lurking just beneath the surface, waiting.
Her name was on that list.
She had seven days.
The weight of it all crashed down on her, and before she even realized it, her feet were carrying her down the hallway.
Her mother was in the living room, a cup of tea in her hands, flipping through a magazine. When she saw Kayla standing there—arms crossed, eyes shadowed—her expression shifted immediately.
"Kayla?" Her mother set the cup down. "What's wrong?"
She wanted to lie. To say nothing.
But she couldn't keep running.
Kayla sank onto the couch beside her mother, her fingers gripping the hem of her hoodie. "Mom… I need to tell you something. And I need you to believe me."
Her mother's brows furrowed, concern deepening the lines on her face. "I'm listening."
So she told her.
Everything.
The graveyard. The ghosts. The list. The disappearances.
And finally…
That she was next.
Her mother was silent for a long time. Too long. Then, finally—
"You've been sneaking out at night?!"
Kayla blinked. Out of all the things I just said, that's what she focuses on?
Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. "Kayla, do you have any idea how dangerous that is? You and your friends—"
"This isn't just about sneaking out, Mom!" Kayla's voice cracked, frustration bubbling over. "I'm in danger. Real, actual danger. And I don't know what to do."
Her mother's expression softened, the anger in her eyes giving way to something else—something Kayla hadn't realized she needed.
Fear.
Concern.
Love.
Without a word, her mother pulled her into a tight hug. Kayla stiffened at first, then sank into it, letting herself be held.
"You're my daughter," her mother whispered. "I will not let anything happen to you."
For the first time in days, Kayla let herself believe it.
---
Meanwhile – Caston's House
Caston paced his room, gripping his phone. His messages to Kayla had gone unanswered for over an hour, and it was driving him insane.
She could be stubborn, but this wasn't the time for one of her I don't need anyone moods.
He was about to call again when his bedroom window rattled.
A slow, deliberate tap.
His heart slammed into his ribs.
Not the wind.
Not a branch.
Something else.
He turned, dread curling in his stomach.
A shadow shifted just outside his window.
And then—
A whisper.
"You're running out of time."
His blood ran cold.
The ghosts weren't just after Kayla.
They were watching all of them.
And they weren't playing anymore.