The Girl Who Wasn’t There
608 Words
The shadow didn’t move like a person.
It drifted—slow, unnatural, soundless. Like ink leaking across a page that shouldn’t be there.
Rina froze. Her mind screamed to run, but her legs didn’t get the message.
Lala, on the other hand, grabbed Rina’s wrist. “We’re not staying to meet that thing.”
They backed away from the trunk, stepping over old boxes and broken furniture. The shadow slithered along the wall—longer now, taller, stretching toward them like it could smell their fear.
They were one step from the attic door when a crash echoed behind them. The trunk had slammed shut on its own.
Rina looked back. Big mistake.
The shadow wasn’t on the wall anymore.
It was on the floor.
And it was crawling.
“Run!” Lala hissed, yanking the door open.
They raced down the narrow stairs, not daring to look behind. Every step groaned beneath them, as though the building itself was warning them to leave faster.
When they burst back into the hallway, the air shifted. The lights flickered back to their usual pale yellow. The normal sounds of pipes and night wind returned. The shadow was gone.
But something else had changed.
The door to Room 2B was wide open.
Rina hadn’t left it that way.
They approached slowly.
Inside, the room looked untouched—except for the mirror. A long c***k now ran across it, slicing her reflection in two. And written in condensation across the glass, though the air was bone dry, were three words:
“YOU WERE HERE.”
Rina stepped back.
“What the hell does that mean?” she whispered.
Lala didn’t answer. She was staring at the notebook Rina had left on her desk. It was open again, pages fluttering even though there was no wind.
One page in particular had new writing in it.
She walked through fire but forgot to burn.
She left herself behind.
Now the school remembers what she forgot.
Rina felt cold bloom in her stomach.
“What is this?” she asked.
But Lala didn’t respond.
Instead, she turned to Rina slowly, her voice unusually calm. “How long have you been here?”
Rina blinked. “What?”
“How long?” Lala repeated. “When did you transfer?”
“Two days ago. You know that.”
“No,” Lala said softly. “I mean before. The first time.”
Rina opened her mouth to laugh it off—but something inside her wavered.
A memory. Brief. A flicker.
The sound of that broken bell.
A hand grabbing hers. A scream.
A different girl’s voice whispering: “You have to get out.”
But when?
Rina shook her head, backing away. “No. This is stupid. This is just a sick game.”
And yet… she couldn’t remember what school she was in before this one. Or even what her mother's face looked like.
Her heart started to race.
Lala stepped forward, serious now. “You need to remember, Rina. Before it’s too late. Because if you don’t—”
Tap. Tap.
A knock on the open door silenced them both.
Standing there was a girl in the same uniform.
She looked about Rina’s age. Black hair tied into braids. Her skin pale like candle wax.
She smiled politely. Too politely.
“You’re in my room,” she said softly.
Rina’s throat dried. “What?”
“You’re in my room,” the girl repeated.
Lala stared. “This can’t be happening…”
The girl took a step closer, and the air in the room curdled.
“I’m Amelia,” she said.
- Writer
