Page 11 of Presence

Terrifying.

The scene changes. The crispiness in the air turns into a biting chill, like there are little needles in between the air particles. Just breathing feels like it’s slashing me from the inside. The emptiness of the street makes the little hairs on my neck stand on end. The mix of exhilaration and unease I felt morphs into pure fear. I feel only fear.

I spin around, searching for the source of the sound. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears. There are… shadows around Echo and I. They twist and move, creating unsettling shapes at the edge of my blurry vision.

He grabs my arm, his grip firm but not painful.

“You need to remember our meeting here,” he says suddenly. “Tell me you’ll remember.”

I don’t react to his words. They just wash over me like water. All I can do is keep searching for the shadows that are getting closer. Even without looking at them directly, I know they’re coming. I feel it in my bones, just like I knew something was off about all of this. About this... dream.

These shadows are here for me. And they’re going to catch me, sooner or later. That’s what they’re here for. That’s their purpose.

Echo shakes my arm. I blink, glancing at him briefly, and nod.

“Good,” he says, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes the world around us almost fade. Almost. “As long as you remember, we’ll meet again.”

And just like that, the shadows reach us.

They tear us apart.

They consume me.

4

I’m safe, I’m calm

I jolt upright with a sharp, deep breath. My back is slick with sweat, and a scream claws at my throat. I can feel them—the countless black hands skimming over my body, tugging at my hair, prying my lips open, prickling my skin. It’s as if the shadows are still wrapped around me, overwhelming me and controlling my every move.

But the truth is... I’m not in the middle of the street anymore. There are no figures screaming into my skull or enveloping me in their dark embrace. I’m lying in my bed, in my apartment, in my home.

“It was all a dream,” I whisper to myself, my voice raspy. Blinking away the remnants of fear, I sit up and run a hand through my messy hair. “A fucking nightmare.”

I shut my eyes tight and drag my hands down my face, feeling the heat of my skin. Probably not great for my pores to sweat and then pull at them like this, but who cares right now? Beauty routines are the least of my concerns.

I was just sleeping. I actually fell asleep.

It’s all because of Camila. Speaking of which... where is she?

I glance at the other side of the queen-sized bed, made up with white sheets and cream stripes. This is how we usually sleep during our sleepovers—each of us on our own side with our own blanket. It’s a good arrangement; the last thing I want is for her to deal with my gross sweat.

But... Camila’s not here. Where her head should be resting on the plump pillow, there’s just a small, folded note.

I blink a few times, still disoriented, before noticing the sunlight streaming through the clouds into my apartment. I reach out and pick the note up.

You were sleeping so soundly,

I didn’t have the heart to wake you up!

I’m thrilled that last night’s ritual worked.

Love your face, Cam.

P.S. Please take a shower.

I read the message to the end, but from the very first sentence, confusion gnaws at me like a hungry animal. Then, I read it again. I was sleeping soundly? What...? I can’t remember the last time I slept through the night. Even during Camila’s sleepovers here, I usually kept waking up, my sleep fragile as a fine thread pulled in the wrong direction.

What the hell?

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