Page 197 of Seeking Shadows

Everything inside me freezes. My world tilts off its axis, and I feel like I’m falling.

“Katie died,” he says, the weight of the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. “She left you a letter. You’ll get it soon.”

“How… why?” The words barely leave my mouth.

“I can’t explain right now.”

“Seth—”

“Do you trust me?”

I close my eyes, a wave of fear washing over me. “…Yes.”

“Then hold on. It’ll be okay.”

“I don’t know if I can.” The words escape me before I can stop them, the fear raw in my voice.

There’s a beat of silence before he replies, his voice softer now. “You’ll be fine.”

But I don’t feel fine.

The line goes dead, and I stand there, the phone pressed to my ear, the weight of everything crashing down on me. Katie’s gone. Seth’s gone somewhere, hiding whatever truth he thinks I’m better off not knowing.

My heart races, panic bubbling in my chest, and I don’t know what comes next. I want to believe him. I want to trust that everything will be okay, but something inside me is screaming that it won’t.

“I need to find my brother,” I whisper into the emptiness, panic knotting my chest.

BONUS CONTENT

HARVIN

16 YEARS OLD

I was born into a good family.

My mom and dad have always been loving. My sister? Too kind.

But me? I'm a statistical error. Something went wrong in the blueprint — I got a brain that doesn't process the world like theirs.

I don’t cry. I don’t feel the way people say I should. Most of the time, it’s just noise. A constant hum—like a static channel that never turns off.

I’m either numb or burning. There’s no middle.

I hate small talk. Fake smiles. People pretending to care just to keep up appearances. Not because I’m shy—but because I know what they’re hiding.

What they don’t admit to themselves. People are dangerous. All of them. Some are wrapped tighter than others, but they’re all just waiting to blow.

I learned to mimic early on.

Because my mom started looking at me like she was scared for me. My dad tried, but he never got close. So I smiled. I said the right things. I became what they needed to see. Polite. Predictable.

A version of myself that fit.

Control became everything. Order. Logic. Emotion was just static—background clutter. But calculation? That, I could work with.

I studied people. Broke them down into patterns. I became the model son. The solid student. The quiet friend who listens but never gives away too much.

And underneath it all—there’s always been the other two parts.

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