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A police officer had called Sarah, his voice cutting through the chatter like a blade. Adrian grabbed her bag and ran with her as soon as the bell rang, the two of them weaving through the crowded streets until the looming gray walls of the station swallowed them whole.
Inside, the air stank of sweat and metal. The clicking of typewriters and the bark of radios echoed in every corner. Sarah's pulse roared in her ears as the officer at the desk leaned forward.
"Name?"
"Sarah Williams," she whispered, her throat tight.
The officer scribbled something down, then glanced at her sharply. "You'll want to see this."
He led her past a hallway of steel doors and dropped her into a room that smelled faintly of disinfectant and fear. Her mother sat there, wrists trembling against the chair, eyes wild.
"Mom…" Sarah's voice cracked. She rushed forward, but the sight of her mother's face broke her open. "Why? Why would you do that? Why attack an old man in front of everyone? Do you know what they're saying about you?"
Her mother's voice tore out raw, desperate. "Sarah, I wasn't lying! It wasn't a man—it was him. The scarecrow. I swear it was dragging a child away. You have to believe me!"
Tears scalded Sarah's cheeks. "Mom, stop. Please. I can't take this anymore. You keep saying it's the scarecrow, but no one sees it. I don't see it!"
A silence split the room. Her mother's lip trembled; then a single tear streaked down her face.
"You don't believe me either…" she whispered. Her gaze darted toward Adrian. " Adrian. Tell her. Tell me you believe me. Please."
Adrian froze. She'd heard Sarah's whispers about her mother before, but this—police, charges, the word "kidnapper" buzzing in the air—was something else entirely. She lowered her eyes, unable to speak.
The defeat in Sarah's mother's face was worse than a scream. She sagged back, whispering to herself, they all think I'm mad.
The door slammed open. A uniformed officer entered, his voice cold, official.
"We're done here. Mrs. Williams is being transferred. Multiple witnesses pressed charges. To protect public safety, she's either going to the asylum or prison. There are no other options."
Sarah's world tilted. "No! Please—she's not dangerous!"
Her mother erupted, thrashing against the chair, punching one officer square in the jaw. "You don't understand! I will not leave my daughter with that thing!" She lunged for Sarah's arm, gripping her so tightly it hurt. "Sarah, listen to me! We're going to your aunt's grave right now. She knew. She knew!"
"Mom, stop!" Sarah sobbed, tugging free. "This isn't helping! Please… just calm down. Maybe… maybe the asylum will help. Maybe it'll quiet all of this, make it easier for you—"
Her mother froze, her face carved with betrayal. "You think I'm crazy too?"
The silence burned. Then her mother's voice cracked open, raw and guttural:
"Every time someone speaks of the scarecrow… they vanish. Your father. your friendp. All of them. Don't you see, Sarah? It's not me—it's him. And he's already reaching for you."
Her eyes locked on Adrian, desperate, pleading. "If she won't believe me, then you—please—protect her. Don't let him take her. Please."
Before Adrian could answer, the officers dragged her mother screaming down the hall.
"Sarah! Don't let him whisper to you! Don't let him whisper—"
Her voice was swallowed by the slamming of iron doors.
Sarah stood frozen, tears slick on her chin. Adrian gripped her shoulder, but Sarah barely felt it. Because somewhere, in the echoing silence of the station, she swore she heard it—
A whisper. Low. Rustling. Like straw grinding against wood.
Calling her name.
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