THE LAST MESSAGE

Chapter 3: It knows

Kwame didn’t go to school that day, and when his mother asked why, he simply said he wasn’t feeling well, which wasn’t entirely a lie because something inside him felt deeply unsettled, like his mind and body were no longer in the same place, and even after the chaos of the morning, the messages stayed in his head, repeating over and over as if they had carved themselves into his thoughts. By afternoon, the house was quiet, his mother had stepped out, and Ama hadn’t returned from school yet, leaving him alone with nothing but his phone sitting on the table in front of him, the screen dark but somehow still demanding his attention. He hadn’t touched it for over an hour, yet it felt like it was watching him, waiting for him to give in, and eventually he did, reaching out slowly and picking it up, unlocking the screen to see no new messages, only the last one staring back at him—This is only the beginning. He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he leaned back in his chair, trying to steady his breathing, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing, and finally he spoke out loud, his voice low but firm, saying that if this thing could predict the future, then he could test it. The idea gave him a small sense of control, something to hold onto, and without thinking too much, he opened the chat and typed, What will happen next? He waited, staring at the screen, and for a moment nothing happened, making him almost believe it was over, but then the phone vibrated softly in his hand and a reply appeared, You won’t believe me. Kwame frowned slightly, a mix of fear and frustration rising in him as he typed back quickly, Tell me, and this time the response took longer, as if whatever was on the other side was thinking, before finally another message appeared, Your sister will drop a glass at 4:06 PM. Kwame blinked, staring at the words before letting out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back, muttering that this was nothing, just a guess, something small and meaningless, but even as he tried to dismiss it, he found himself checking the time—3:48 PM—and waiting. The minutes dragged slowly, each second stretching longer than it should, until finally the front door opened at 4:02 PM and Ama’s voice filled the house as she called out that she was back, her tone cheerful and normal, and for a brief moment, everything felt fine again. Kwame stayed where he was, his eyes fixed on the time, his heart beginning to beat faster as she walked into the room holding a glass of water, smiling at him and asking why he was staring like that, but he didn’t answer, he couldn’t, because his focus was locked on the clock as it shifted from 4:05 to 4:06. The glass slipped from her hand. It shattered on the floor with a sharp crash, water spreading across the tiles as Ama jumped slightly, reacting with surprise as she looked down at the mess, but Kwame was already on his feet, his chair scraping loudly behind him as he stared at the broken pieces, his chest tightening as the reality of what had just happened sank in. “No way,” he whispered, his voice shaking, and Ama looked up at him with confusion, asking what was wrong, but he barely heard her because his mind was racing, trying to make sense of something that made no sense. He looked at her again, really looked this time, and something about her felt different, not obvious, not something he could easily explain, but enough to make his stomach twist with unease, and when she smiled, it lingered just a little too long. “Kwame,” she said softly, her voice calm, almost too calm, “why do you look scared?” A chill ran down his spine as he took a small step back, his instincts telling him something wasn’t right, even though everything looked normal on the surface, and before he could respond, his phone buzzed in his hand, making him flinch as he glanced down to see another message—I told you. His grip tightened on the phone as his heart pounded harder, and when he looked back up, Ama was closer, much closer than she should have been, and he hadn’t seen her move. “Who are you talking to?” she asked quietly, her eyes flicking briefly to the phone before returning to his face, and Kwame shook his head quickly, stepping back again as he said no one, but his voice betrayed him, sounding tense and unsure. For a moment, they just stood there in silence, the air between them thick with something unspoken, until finally Ama smiled again, this time more natural, or at least it seemed that way, and she shrugged lightly, saying he was being weird before turning and walking away as if nothing had happened. Kwame stood frozen, his breathing uneven as he stared at the doorway she had just disappeared through, his mind struggling to process what he had just seen, because deep down he knew something had changed, and it wasn’t just the messages anymore. That night came too quickly, and by the time Kwame lay in bed again, the fear had settled deeper into him, heavier than before, and when his phone buzzed at exactly 2:13 AM, he didn’t even hesitate this time as he picked it up, his hands already shaking as he read the new message—You see now. His chest tightened as another message followed, That was small. Next one isn’t, and his fingers trembled as he typed back, asking what it wanted from him, and the reply came instantly, a single word that made his stomach drop—Obedience. Kwame shook his head slowly, whispering no under his breath, but the screen flickered suddenly, the chat disappearing for a brief second and something else taking its place, something dark, something that looked like a reflection but wasn’t his, and in that moment, he saw it again, a shape standing behind him. He spun around instantly, his heart racing, but the room was empty, completely still, and yet this time, he heard it, a soft whisper right next to his ear, so close it made him flinch. “You’re too slow…” The voice didn’t sound human, and Kwame squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as panic began to rise inside him, but his phone buzzed again, drawing his attention back to the screen where one final message appeared—Tomorrow, you will choose. And as he stared at those words, a terrifying realization settled into his mind… whatever this was, it wasn’t just predicting things anymore—it was pulling him deeper into something he couldn’t escape.