ONCE the LIGHTS GO OUT

Amara The lights didn’t flicker. They didn’t warn us. They just… went out. One second, everything was loud—music pulsing through the walls, laughter spilling from every corner of the house, bodies moving too close, too careless. The next, it was gone. Darkness swallowed everything whole. A few people screamed. Someone laughed, thinking it was a joke. A glass shattered somewhere to my left, the sound sharp enough to cut through the confusion. And me? I froze. I don’t know why. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the way the darkness didn’t feel normal—like it wasn’t just the absence of light, but something heavier. Something that pressed in around you and made it harder to breathe. “Relax!” someone shouted from across the room. “It’s just the power!” But it didn’t feel like just anything. I wrapped my arms around myself, fingers digging into the thin fabric of my dress. I hated crowds. Hated parties. Hated everything about nights like this. So why was I here? Because Lila begged. Because I said yes. Because I’m bad at saying no. “Amara?” Lila’s voice cut through the dark, distant and slightly slurred. “Where are you?” “Here,” I said, but my voice came out softer than I meant it to. The music was gone now. Completely. No backup generator. No emergency lights. Just murmurs, shuffling, the uneasy sound of people trying to pretend they weren’t uncomfortable. “I can’t see anything,” someone complained. “No kidding.” “Use your phone—” “I can’t find it—” A sudden flash lit up part of the room as someone turned on their flashlight. Then another. And another. Small beams cutting through the dark, creating moving shadows along the walls. For a second, I thought I’d feel better. I didn’t. Because that’s when I felt it. Not a touch. Not exactly. More like a presence. Close. Too close. My body went still again, breath catching in my throat as the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Someone was behind me. I could feel it. Slowly, I turned. But before I could see anything—before my eyes could adjust or a light could reach far enough— A hand wrapped around my wrist. Firm. Warm. Not rough. But not gentle either. I gasped, instinct kicking in as I tried to pull back, but the grip tightened just enough to stop me. “Don’t.” The voice was low. Close. Too close. My heart slammed against my ribs. “Let go of me.” “Not yet.” Something in the way he said it made my stomach twist. Not fear. Not exactly. Something worse. Something that didn’t make sense. “Who are you?” I whispered. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his thumb shifted slightly against my wrist—just enough for me to notice. Just enough for my pulse to spike. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said finally. My brows furrowed. “What?” “This isn’t your kind of place.” I almost laughed, even with my heart racing. “And you know me?” “I know enough.” That should’ve been my cue to walk away. To pull free. To find Lila and leave. But I didn’t. Because there was something about him—about the way he spoke, the way he didn’t rush, didn’t explain—that made me pause. Made me curious. And I hate that word. Curiosity gets you hurt. “I don’t even know who you are,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “Good.” The word came out like a quiet warning. Then, just as suddenly as he grabbed me— He let go. My hand dropped back to my side, the loss of contact immediate and… noticeable. Too noticeable. I stepped back, heart still racing, eyes scanning the darkness as more phone lights flickered on around the room. “Hey—” I started, but he was already gone. Or at least… I couldn’t see him. “Amara!” Lila stumbled into me a second later, nearly knocking me off balance. “There you are!” I blinked, forcing myself back into the moment. “Yeah.” “Oh my God, wasn’t that crazy?” she laughed, holding her phone up like a torch. “I swear, if this party gets shut down—” “Did you see him?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. Lila frowned. “See who?” I hesitated. Because I didn’t have an answer. Tall. That’s all I knew. Tall, with a voice that didn’t belong in a place like this. “Never mind,” I muttered. She gave me a look but didn’t push. “Come on, they’re trying to fix the power. Let’s go outside—it’s too packed in here.” I nodded, letting her pull me through the crowd, but my mind wasn’t on her. It was on him. On the way he said you shouldn’t be here. On the way my body reacted like it recognized something it shouldn’t. We pushed through the front door, the cool night air hitting my skin like a reset button. I inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the feeling. It didn’t work. Because even outside— Even surrounded by people and noise and distant streetlights— I still felt it. That same presence. Watching. Waiting. Like the darkness hadn’t stayed inside. Like it followed me out. I turned slightly, scanning the edges of the yard, the shadows between trees, the dim outline of parked cars. Nothing. No one. But the feeling didn’t go away. “Amara, you’re doing that thing again,” Lila said, nudging me. “What thing?” “The overthinking thing.” I forced a small smile. “I’m fine.” She raised a brow, clearly not convinced. “If you say so.” But I wasn’t fine. Because I knew something she didn’t. This wasn’t just a blackout. It wasn’t just a random moment in a crowded house. It felt like something started in that darkness. Something I didn’t understand yet. Something I wasn’t ready for. And somehow… I knew it wasn’t over