The last day of high school should have felt like freedom. Instead, it tasted like ash.
I sat through my final exam with my pencil clenched too tight, my thoughts far from the questions on the page. The classroom was too warm, the clock ticking too loud. Every second dragged, weighed down by the unspoken truth humming under my skin: Chad's missing. Just like the others.
When the bell finally rang, I didn't linger. I shoved my things into my bag and walked out without looking back.
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**The cafeteria** smelled of burnt coffee and sugar, and the usual chatter of students dulled to a murmur. Zaire slid into the booth across from me, two mugs in hand. He didn't speak right away—just pushed the hot chocolate toward me, the whipped cream melting into swirls.
I wrapped my hands around the warmth. "Three days," I said quietly. "No body."
Zaire's jaw tightened. He didn't need me to explain. We both knew the pattern by now: Hannah, Andrew—both vanished, both found with that outlandish"Blocked" carved into them. But Chad? Silence.
"Maybe it's different this time," Zaire offered, though his voice lacked conviction.
I tapped my phone screen—the same cursed thing Andy had given me—watching it light up with notifications I hadn't answered. "Or maybe we're missing something. Every time I block someone, they die. But why? What's the connection?"
Zaire leaned forward, his voice dropping. "You think the phone's... what? Sending some kind of signal?"
"Or tracking me." I swallowed hard. "Or maybe it's just a sick coincidence."
The bell above the café door jingled. I didn't have to look up to know who it was. The air changed when Sebastian walked in—charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
He hesitated near our booth, his fingers gripping the strap of his backpack. "Mia," he started, voice rough. "We need to talk."
I didn't glance up. "Not now, Sebastian."
"Please." The word cracked. "You can't just shut me out—"
"I said not now!" My head snapped up, the heat in my voice startling even me.
The cafeteria went quiet. A few heads turned.
Sebastian flinched but held his ground. "You're not the only one hurting, Mia. My dad—"
"Your dad?" A laugh tore out of me, bitter and sharp. "Your dad lied. To you. To me. To everyone." My hands trembled around the mug. "You want to talk about hurt? Fine. Let's talk."
I stood so fast the table rattled. "I was five years old, Sebastian. Five. My mother locked me in a closet because she knew they were coming for her. I listened through the door while they killed her. And then I sat there. For two days. With her *body*." My voice shattered. "Do you have any idea what that does to someone? What it's still doing?"
Sebastian paled. "Mia—"
"What was her crime, Sebastian?" The words ripped out of me, raw and bleeding. "Loving your father? Wanting out? Or was it just that she was weak—just some nobody they could erase when she stopped being useful?" Tears burned down my cheeks. "What's mine?"
The silence that followed was suffocating. Even Zaire had gone still, his eyes wide.
Sebastian looked like I'd struck him. "I... I don't know," he whispered.
"Exactly." I swiped at my face, my breath ragged. "So don't tell me how to feel. Or when to forgive."
I grabbed my bag and pushed past him, the café door slamming behind me. The afternoon sun was too bright, the world too loud. But for the first time in years, the weight in my chest felt lighter.
"Because I am done hiding".
"And I am done being afraid".
The cafeteria door hadn't even finished swinging shut behind Mia before Zaire was out of his seat, his chair screeching against the floor. The air between him and Sebastian crackled like a live wire.
Sebastian made a move to follow Mia, but Zaire stepped into his path, blocking him with a shoulder. "Let her go." His voice was low, a warning wrapped in velvet.
Sebastian's jaw twitched. "Get out of my way, Zaire."
"Or what?" Zaire didn't blink. "You'll yell at me too? That your thing now—pushing people until they break?"
A muscle in Sebastian's throat jumped. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about."
"I know enough." Zaire leaned in, close enough that the other café patrons couldn't hear. "I know Mia's been carrying shit no one should have to. And I know you just made it worse."
Sebastian's hands curled into fists. "You think I *wanted* this? My dad lied to me too, in case you forgot."
"Oh, boo-fucking-hoo," Zaire sneered. "Your dad kept secrets. Mia *watched her mom die*." He shoved Sebastian back a step. "You don't get to play the victim here."
Sebastian's control snapped. He grabbed Zaire by the collar, slamming him against the nearest wall. Coffee mugs rattled on nearby tables. Someone gasped.
"You don't know *anything* about me," Sebastian growled.
Zaire didn't fight back. Just smirked, blood in his teeth. "Yeah? Then hit me. Prove her right—that you're just another rich boy who can't handle the truth."
For a heartbeat, Sebastian's fist trembled in the air. Then, with a ragged breath, he let go.
Zaire straightened his jacket, cool as ever. "That's what I thought."
Sebastian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice, when it came, was raw. "I'm not the enemy, Zaire."
"Could've fooled me."
Sebastian looked toward the door, where Mia had vanished. "I'm going to find out what really happened. To Hannah and Andrew. To all of them."
Zaire studied him—the stubborn set of his jaw, the fire in his eyes. For the first time, he almost looked impressed. "Why? So you can play hero?"
"No." Sebastian met his gaze. "So I can fix it."
A beat of silence. Then Zaire nodded toward the exit. "Better get started, Calloway. The clock's ticking."
Sebastian didn't need to tell twice. He was out the door in three strides, the afternoon sun swallowing him whole.
Zaire watched him go, then tossed a twenty on the table.
"Game on!" Zaire smirked.