Chapter 3 — Missing From Reality
1069 Words
Elara woke up to silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The wrong kind.
Her alarm didn’t ring.
Her phone didn’t buzz.
Even the usual morning noise outside—the tricycles, neighbors, dogs—felt muted, like the world had turned its volume down.
She sat up slowly.
Waiting.
Listening.
Nothing answered her.
Then she noticed it.
Her room felt… lighter.
Not physically.
But like something important had been removed without permission.
Elara swung her legs off the bed and walked to the mirror.
She froze.
For a second, she didn’t understand what she was seeing.
Then her brain caught up.
Her reflection was there.
But incomplete.
Her face looked slightly blurred around the edges, like the mirror was struggling to remember how she looked.
“No…” she whispered.
She pressed her hand against the glass.
The reflection lagged behind her movement by half a second.
Half a second too late.
Like she was becoming a mistake the world couldn’t fully render.
Her phone vibrated suddenly.
She grabbed it immediately.
A notification from her school portal.
Attendance Record Updated.
She opened it.
Her eyes scanned the list.
Math: Present
Science: Present
English: Present
Then she reached her name.
Or where her name should have been.
Nothing.
No Elara V. Santos.
She scrolled up.
Scrolled again.
Refresh.
Refresh again.
Still nothing.
Her breathing grew uneven.
“This is not real,” she said out loud. “I was there yesterday. I was— I was literally—”
Her voice broke.
Because she couldn’t remember who sat next to her in class.
She knew she had a seat.
She knew she talked to people.
But the details were slipping away like wet ink.
Elara grabbed her school uniform and rushed out of the house.
Her mother was in the kitchen again.
Same position.
Same routine.
But something was different.
Her mother looked at her… too briefly.
Like looking at someone she wasn’t fully sure she recognized.
“Ma,” Elara said quickly, “I’m going to school.”
Her mother paused mid-motion.
“…school?” she repeated.
Elara froze.
“Yes. My school.”
Her mother blinked slowly.
“Honey… are you sure you’re feeling okay today?”
The question wasn’t cruel.
It was confused.
Like Elara had just said something that didn’t fit inside reality anymore.
“I go to school every day,” Elara insisted.
Her mother looked at her for a long moment.
Then smiled softly.
“That’s good,” she said.
But it didn’t sound like agreement.
It sounded like comfort.
Like humoring someone fragile.
Elara stepped back.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no…”
She turned and ran.
She didn’t stop until she reached the school gate.
Except—
Something was wrong.
The gate looked the same.
But the sign above it read:
«BUTUAN SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL»
No name of her section.
No familiar posters.
No announcements she recognized.
Still, she pushed inside.
The hallway was full of students.
Talking.
Laughing.
Living.
But as she walked through them—
No one reacted.
No glances.
No whispers.
No recognition.
It was like she was walking through a world that had quietly decided not to include her anymore.
“Elara!” she shouted suddenly.
A group of students passed right through her without slowing down.
She stumbled backward.
Her chest tightened.
“I’m here,” she said louder. “I’m right here!”
Nothing answered.
Then she saw it.
Her classroom.
She rushed inside.
Desks were filled.
Teacher at the front.
Lesson ongoing.
Everything normal.
Except—
Her seat was gone.
Not empty.
Gone.
Like it had never existed.
Elara walked forward slowly.
Her hands were shaking now.
“Ma’am…” she said.
The teacher didn’t look up immediately.
Then finally did.
A pause.
A long, uncomfortable pause.
“Can I help you?” the teacher asked.
Elara felt hope rise.
She pointed at herself. “It’s me. Elara Santos.”
Silence.
The teacher frowned slightly.
“Do you need directions to the guidance office?” she asked gently.
Something inside Elara cracked.
“I’m in this class,” she said quickly. “I’ve been here since the start of the year. I sit— I sit near the window— I—”
She stopped.
Because she couldn’t picture it anymore.
The teacher glanced around the room.
Then back at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said carefully. “I don’t think you’re enrolled here.”
The words didn’t feel real.
They felt like they belonged to someone else’s life.
Elara stepped backward.
“No…” she whispered. “I was here. I was always here.”
Then—
A voice behind her.
Calm.
Familiar.
“You’re getting worse faster than last time.”
Elara turned.
The girl stood near the classroom door.
Same expression.
Same watch.
Same impossible calm.
Elara’s voice shook. “What did you do to me?”
The girl tilted her head slightly.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said.
“You did.”
Elara clenched her fists. “Stop saying that! I didn’t choose this!”
The girl walked slowly into the classroom.
Students didn’t react to her either.
Like neither of them fully existed.
The girl stopped in front of Elara.
And for the first time—
There was something almost like pity in her eyes.
“You’re not being erased,” she said softly.
“You’re being rewritten.”
Elara stepped back.
“What does that mean?”
The girl raised the watch slightly.
And Elara saw it again.
The second hand.
Still moving backwards.
Still wrong.
“Every time you look at tomorrow,” the girl said, “the present has to correct itself.”
Elara shook her head.
“That doesn’t make sense…”
“It doesn’t have to,” the girl replied.
A beat of silence.
Then she said the words that made Elara’s stomach drop completely:
“You’ve already stopped existing in three different versions of today.”
Elara’s voice came out barely above a whisper.
“…and this is one of them?”
The girl didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“No.”
She leaned closer.
“This is the last version where you can still ask questions.”
The classroom lights flickered once.
Just once.
And somewhere far away—
The bell rang.
But no one reacted.
Because no one remembered there was supposed to be someone to answer to it.
- Writer
