Chased By Shadows

Chapter Twelve: She Never Had a Voice

Mira didn’t sleep.

Even when the others tried to rest, she sat upright in the corner of the living room, knees pulled to her chest, eyes wide and unblinking. She hadn’t made a sound since she arrived, but everything about her screamed.

Kaia had watched her for hours from the hallway, unsure if she was awake, or stuck in something deeper.

Mira’s notepad was filled cover to cover. Kaia only got to glance once just once before Mira snatched it away and curled tighter into herself. What she’d seen was enough.

Black spirals, carved into paper so hard the pages tore. Figures drawn over and over. Girls without faces. Rooms without windows. A door that appeared again and again—red, splintered, with something oozing from the edges like rot.

Kaia wanted to ask.

But every time she opened her mouth, Mira just shook her head.

Like it was too late to explain.

The house had taken on an atmosphere none of them could ignore anymore. Not even Elise, who had tried to brush it off for days with excuses.

“It’s just trauma. It’s projection.”

But Elise no longer made eye contact when she said those words. They had all felt it now.

Shadows that moved just a second after you did. Whispers that called names only you should remember. Objects misplaced and then returned in the exact position you first left them, down to the angle.

Simon had started sleeping in his car again. Or so he claimed. None of them could remember seeing him leave.

Lana was the first to say it out loud. “She’s not mute.”

The words came while they were gathered in the kitchen, trying to pretend things were normal. Mira sat at the table, drawing.

Kaia turned to Lana sharply. “What?”

“She can talk,” Lana said. “She just won’t.”

“That’s not fair—”

“I’ve seen her mouth words. When she thinks no one’s watching. In the mirror. She’s not silent. She’s hiding.”

Mira paused in her sketching. Then slowly, deliberately, turned the page. She drew something quickly. A single word in jagged print: “YOU.”

Elise took a step back. “What does that mean?” Mira flipped to the next page. She drew a figure this time. Dark hair. A crooked smile. A second figure beside her.

Eyes scratched out.

Kaia stared at it. “That’s… that’s me.” Mira drew another figure behind them both. No face. No arms. Just teeth.

Mallory, silent all morning, stood and walked to the sink. Her hands were shaking. “She’s trying to tell us something.”

“She already told me,” Simon muttered from the doorway, “in my dream.” Everyone froze. “What dream?” Maren asked. Simon looked at them like he had aged twenty years overnight.

“I was in the woods. Alone. And I heard something crying.” He swallowed.

“I thought it was Mira. I followed the sound. I found… someone.” Lana’s voice was flat. “Who?”

“I don’t know. She looked like Mira. But she wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“She had no mouth.”

That night, Elise found herself walking to the attic again. She didn’t plan it. One moment she was brushing her teeth.

The next, she was staring at the old pull-string to the attic hatch. Her hand moved before she could stop it. The ladder creaked beneath her. The air up there was thick. Wet. Like mold that could think.

And on the floor, perfectly centered in the moonlight, was a music box. It hadn’t been there before. She knelt slowly. The lid opened on its own. The tune played.

Soft, broken, off-key. A voice whispered through it. “Bring her back.” Elise clamped the lid shut. But the music didn’t stop.

Mira screamed. It was the first sound she had made. A high, bone-shattering scream that echoed through the walls. Everyone came running. They found her at the foot of the stairs, pointing up.

She was trembling violently, eyes wide with pure terror. Kaia grabbed her shoulders. “What is it?! What happened?!” Mira just kept pointing. And then she wrote on the floor with her finger. Not with ink. With something red. Her own blood. “SHE’S STILL UP THERE.”

Elise never came down from the attic. The others hesitated at the base of the ladder. Simon eventually went first. He found the attic empty. Except for the music box. And one single note on a crumpled napkin. “I’m remembering things I never lived.”

No one slept that night. Maren took Mira into her room. Kaia sat at the table until dawn, trying to make sense of the note. Mallory spent hours flipping through the files Simon had brought.

One page caught her attention. A list of names. Not students. Not teachers.

> Test Group Epsilon. Phase 2 survivors:

– Mira Halden

– Elena Crowe

– Kaia Reece

– Subject #04 (name redacted)

– Sera L. (deceased?)

– ????

A handwritten scrawl at the bottom: “Only 3 should be alive.” Mallory slammed the file shut. “Who the hell is Subject #04?”

Lana was missing by morning. Maren searched her room, the bathroom, the porch. Nothing. Her boots were gone. Kaia called out into the woods, but the fog had returned thicker, heavier. It swallowed her voice.

Then Mira pointed again. This time, to the red door she had drawn. Except now it wasn’t in her notebook. It was real.

Painted onto the barn outside, behind years of dust and ivy. None of them had noticed it before. They shouldn’t have. Because it wasn’t there yesterday.

They hesitated for a long time. Until Simon opened it. The inside was dark. Colder than it should have been. The smell of iron hit them immediately. Blood. Rot. Something worse.

They stepped in, one by one. Mira refused. Kaia stayed with her. Inside, the others found a room made of mirrors. Dozens of them. No walls, just reflection. Maren whispered, “This wasn’t here before.” Mallory touched the glass. “This is where she’s hiding.”

“Who?” Simon asked. But Mallory didn’t answer. Because in the glass, she didn’t see herself. She saw Lana. Smiling. But not at her. At the thing behind her.

Kaia sat with Mira on the porch steps. Mira was drawing again. This time slower, more deliberate. A hand. A knife. A heart. Then a girl standing in front of a mirror, crying blood.

“Why are you showing me this?” Kaia whispered. Mira shook her head. Then held up four fingers. Then three. Then two.

Kaia frowned. “A countdown?” Mira nodded.

“Until what?” Kaia asked in confusion Mira drew something else. A clock. Struck at midnight. “When she wakes up.”

Kaia stared at her. “Who wakes up?” Mira’s hand trembled as she scrawled the final image. A name etched in grave dirt: “KAIA.”

They left the barn. The mirrors still humming. They never found Lana. But they heard something whisper as they left: “She was never yours to lose.”

Back inside, Maren found her old camcorder. Footage from last year. From the party. The one they’d all agreed to forget. She pressed play. There were six of them in the video. But only five remembered being there.

The sixth girl stood in the background. Hair over her face. Not speaking. Just watching. Maren paused the tape. Her hands were shaking. It was Mira. But the date said April 14, 2014.

That night, Kaia had another dream. She was in a hospital again. Not walking this time, strapped down. Machines beeping slowly. A nurse leaned over her. But her face was stitched shut. The nurse whispered without a mouth: “You aren’t her.”

Then the lights flickered. A shadow moved across the ceiling. And a voice filled the room: “She’s not the one who dies this time.” Kaia woke up screaming. But no one came.

Mira stood outside her door. Holding a drawing. It was Elise. Eyes closed. Floating in water. Kaia took the drawing. Her hands were cold. “Mira… is this what’s coming?” Mira shook her head. Then nodded. Then simply dropped the pen.