Emily's breath caught in her throat.
Lily stood frozen in the doorway, the diary lying open on the floor between them. The jagged scrawl of her name bled across the page like a wound. Lily's eyes stayed fixed on it for a long, unbearable moment. Then her gaze lifted to Emily.
Emily's lips parted, trembling. "Lily, I—"
"So it was you all along," Lily snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice the air. "I knew something was off with you. All the deaths, all the whispers… it was always you." Her chest rose and fell violently, her face twisted in disbelief. "But I never thought you'd write my name. I'm your best friend!"
Emily shook her head wildly, words tumbling but breaking apart. "It's not like that—I didn't—"
"How could you do this to me, you bitch!?" Lily screamed, the sound so raw and guttural that Emily flinched as if struck.
Her world cracked open. Lily's words slammed into her chest, heavier than any blow. She had never seen her like this.
Lily's fury only built. "You were always a fucking loser! Always too weak to stand up for yourself. I was the one who saved you from the bullies. I stood by you when everyone else turned away. I never betrayed you!" Her voice broke, but her rage didn't falter. "And this is how you repay me? By wanting me dead!?"
Emily staggered back against the wall, her knees weak. The room felt like it was closing in, the shadows pressing tighter. "Lily, please… please, listen to me—"
But the voice that came from Lily's throat shifted. Lower. Rougher. Wrong. Her laugh rolled out like broken glass, demonic and jagged. Emily's heart seized.
The words that followed didn't sound like Lily at all:
"You worthless fool. Because of you, your teacher died. Because of you, Jenn is gone. Because of you, they all rot in the ground. How do you breathe, knowing their blood weighs on your hands?"
Emily froze. Her best friend's face was twisted, her smile unnatural. Her body jerked, spasmed—like strings pulled by an unseen puppeteer. She collapsed suddenly to the floor, limbs twitching, muscles locking as if rigor mortis had set in while she still lived.
"Lily!" Emily screamed, her voice shrill, broken. She couldn't move forward. Couldn't move at all.
Then, impossibly, Lily rose again. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes wide and lifeless, her skin drained of color until she looked like something dug out of a grave. She began to crawl toward Emily, fingers bending at awful angles, joints popping with every shuffle.
Emily shrieked, stumbling back onto her bed. Her hands shot up to her ears as whispers poured into her skull, layered voices that belonged to no human throat.
Write her name.
Kill her.
Debt demands payment.
The words stabbed and stabbed, louder and louder until she thought her skull would split. Emily pressed her palms harder over her ears, shaking her head violently. "Stop it! Stop it!"
The voices didn't stop. They laughed.
And then silence.
Panting, Emily cracked her eyes open.
Lily stood at the foot of her bed, back turned to her, shoulders trembling. Soft, broken sobs escaped her throat.
Emily's heart shattered at the sound. She crawled forward on the mattress, voice low and trembling. "Lily? Hey… it's me. I know you're hurt. I know you're scared. I'm so sorry Jenn's gone, I'm sorry you saw that page, but you have to believe me—I would never choose you. Never." Her tears spilled freely now, streaking her face. "If I hadn't pulled you out of the way, you'd be dead too. I saved you, Lily. I swear I saved you."
The silence was unbearable.
"Please," Emily whispered, her voice breaking. "Say something. Anything."
She reached out, fingers shaking, and gripped Lily's shoulder to turn her toward her.
The world shattered.
It wasn't Lily.
The hooded figure stood in her place. The Watcher. His grin stretched far too wide, the teeth too sharp, as though carved from shadow. His head tilted, his body shimmering like smoke in the edges of reality.
Emily's stomach lurched violently. Her chest locked as if the air had been ripped from her lungs. She couldn't scream. Couldn't even blink.
The figure chuckled, low and sickly sweet, each sound reverberating inside her bones. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and peeled the hood back.
Emily's pulse thundered in her ears.
The shadows fell away.
And she saw him.
Nathan.
Her uncle. Dead for ten years. His eyes black hollows rimmed with faint embers, his smile the same cruel smirk that haunted her visions.
Emily's breath broke into sobs. The room tilted, her vision tunneling, as Nathan leaned closer, whispering in a voice smoother than silk and colder than the grave:
"You were always meant to carry it, Emily. Blood pays blood. And your time is almost up."
Her scream tore from her throat at last, but the dark swallowed it whole.