The ride to school was brief, but Jill felt every strain on her chest like a thread unravelling. The sun was out, soft and unknowing. The trees stood as they had always, obedient and unflinching. There seemed to be something wrong inside her; a weight that she couldn't identify was crushing against her ribs.
Mr. Halden's car slid into the parking lot with a sigh. Jill unbuckled and walked out of the car before he could say anything.
Alice was already waiting, standing near the walkway with one hand on her hip and a frown. She did not wave.
"You're late again," she said as soon as Jill got close.
Jill gave a tired smile. "Good morning to you, too."
Alice rolled her eyes. "This is the third time this week."
"Second time, my friend. I overslept," Jill muttered, brushing past her.
"You always oversleep," Alice said.
They began strolling towards the lecture hall, their footsteps quiet on the pavement. There were no voices in the courtyard, no laughter booming off the walls, and no movement behind the glass.
Jill slowed. Her eyebrows furrowed. Something felt odd.
"Why's it so quiet?" she asked, glancing around. "Where's everyone?"
Alice didn't answer right away. She glanced around, too, then pulled Jill gently by the arm.
"They're inside," she said, voice low. "There's a problem."
"What kind of problem?" Jill asked.
"Dave Collins is missing," Alice replied.
Jill stopped walking. "Wait… what?"
Alice nodded solemnly. "Yeah."
Jill blinked. "You mean like—missing, missing?"
"Gone. Vanished. Poof," Alice said, waving her fingers like dust blown away. "No one's seen him since yesterday afternoon."
Jill swallowed. "First Curt Jackson, and now Dave Collins?"
"That's what I said," Alice said.
They resumed walking, this time at a slower pace. The building loomed ahead of them, grey and silent as if it had been watching.
Jill shoved her hands into her sweater pockets. "Something's not right."
Alice scoffed lightly. "Tell me about it."
Jill glanced sideways. "What are the school authorities saying?"
"That it might be a prank," Alice replied. "Or he ran off. But I heard his parents are in the vice-chancellor's office."
Jill winced. "That's serious."
Alice nodded. "And you know what else?"
"What?"
"Adex Wilfred thinks there's a monster on campus. Eating students one by one."
Jill stopped again. "What?"
Alice chuckled. "I know. He's calling it 'The Feeding.' He says he's been tracking the energy signatures around the school. Whatever the hell that means."
Jill groaned. "That crazy guy. What kind of research is he doing now?"
"He's collecting 'psychic residue' from abandoned classrooms," Alice said, making air quotes.
Jill rubbed her face. "God, please don't tell me you believe him."
"I don't," Alice said, smirking. "But it's fun to think about. Like an invisible creature hiding in plain sight. Picking us off when we're not looking."
"Stop," Jill said quickly. "Seriously. It's not funny."
Alice raised an eyebrow. "Whoa. Are you okay?
Jill didn't answer. She just kept walking.
They approached the lecture hall doors. A low buzz of voices came through the holes.
When they walked in, the room was already in disarray: students stood in clusters, some pacing, while others huddled around desks; books lay forgotten, bags were half-zipped, and faces were filled with confusion.
"Still no update?" a boy in a denim jacket asked.
"Nothing," a girl said. "His phone's off. His locker's untouched."
Another voice chimed in, "What if he ran away?"
"Why would he run away?" a girl snapped. "He was happy. He just made the swim team."
Alice and Jill slipped into two seats at the back, watching.
A tall student with earbuds around his neck turned to the group. "I heard someone saw him near the old music hall."
"The one that's closed off?" someone asked.
"Yeah."
"Why would he be there?"
"Exactly."
Jill leaned toward Alice. "This doesn't feel right."
Alice nodded slowly, taking in the room's surroundings. "You think it's connected to Curt?"
"I don't know," Jill whispered. "But it's too similar."
"That's the same thing Adex said," Anna said.
"Stop talking about that crazy guy", Jill replied.
A group of students near the front started arguing.
"He didn't just vanish!"
"Then where is he?"
"They need to check the basement."
"There's no basement."
"Yes, there is. Under the stage."
"That's not real."
"It is! My brother was in the stage crew last year—he said there's a trapdoor!"
Alice turned back toward Jill. "See? Now everyone's making stuff up."
Jill kept her eyes on the arguing group. "Maybe they're not."
"Come on," Anna said.
"I'm serious," Jill responded.
Alice narrowed her eyes. "Why are you acting like this?"
"Because something is wrong," Jill said. "And I think it started before Curt went missing."
Alice tilted her head. "You know something?"
"No," Jill said too quickly.
Alice gave her a look.
Jill sighed. "I just have this…feeling."
Alice studied her for a second. "You're scared."
"I'm not scared," Jill said quietly. "I'm just… I'm trying to make sense of things."
Alice leaned closer. "Is this about your dream?"
Jill looked up, surprised. "How'd you—?"
"Anna called me to keep an eye on you?" Alice said, her voice softening.
Jill was surprised.
"Why is she calling you?" Jill spoke with great displeasure.
"Because she's worried about you," Alice explained.
Jill said nothing.
Alice lowered her voice even more. "Was it about Curt again?"
Jill looked away.
There was a lengthy quiet between them, and the murmuring in the room felt distant, like waves crashing on the coast.
Alice reached out, gently touching Jill's wrist. "Whatever it is, you're not alone, okay?"
Jill nodded, her throat tightening. "I know."
Jill disliked discussing her difficulties with Alice or anybody else. She kept secrets hidden behind glances and little nods, like an invisible ink diary. She didn't expect anyone to notice, and she didn't want them to. However, hearing that Anna had instructed Alice to keep an eye on her caused something to change.
Sometimes, she wished she could discuss it with Alice, but she is terrified of what might happen, so she prefers to keep it to herself.
It resembled a light flashing at the edge of the darkness.
Alice observed that she doesn't like discussing her issues with her; however, she doesn't hold it against her. She accepts her for who she is and respects her opinion.
Jill peered across the room again. Students continued to gather around theories and huddle in heated discussions about Dave Collins—where he went, how he might have vanished, and why this was happening again. She reclined back in her armchair, looking up at the ceiling. The fan spun slowly, carelessly. Her thoughts remained unchanged.
She denied the possibility that the disappearances were linked to her. Something about how she thought of them. First Curt Jackson, now Dave Collins.
She knew she had seen Curt. Inside her room. Last night.
They'd chatted. Laughed. His presence had been warm and too honest to be a dream.
So now—
Jill's head gently shifted towards the open window.
And there, just across the field, in the same gloomy position where she had previously seen Curt—
It was Dave Collins.
Standing still. Staring back.
Her eyes flew open wide.
She blinked. Once, twice.
He remained there, pale and distant; yet it's not gone.
Jill leaned closer and saw a storm through his eyes—raw, quiet, and desperate. He was asking her, not with words but with something more profound, longing to be free of whatever haunted him. But she stood there, oblivious to the language of misery and unable to decipher the sorrow in his eyes.
Jill's hand moved to Alice's arm, where she tapped her shoulder firmly.
Alice was too busy laughing at a joke that had been recently told. Jill tapped her again, this time with more urgency.
Still nothing.
Then, in desperation, Jill called out to her and yelled, "Alice!"
Alice flinched. "What?"
Jill pointed. "There! There—look!"
Alice's gaze shifted to the window.
There was nothing.
The space was empty.
A gentle breeze rustles through the trees.
Alice blinked. "What? "What am I supposed to see?"
Jill's lips parted, but no words came out. She stared. Her finger was still pointing and twitching slightly.
"Jill?" Alice enquired again, more quietly.
Jill muttered something that made no sense.
Because she couldn't understand it, she observed both Curt and Dave. Their smiles were distant, like whispers of a memory that had not yet come to pass.
The thought rang loudly in her mind.
These two students are missing. No one else sees them. But Jill does.
Jill ran a hand over her face and then through her hair, her fingers tangled in uncertainty. Her mind went in circles, and her breathing became faster and shallower.
Her chest tightened. Her breath caught. "What's going on with me?" she spoke loudly in her mind.
She gazed into the distance where Dave had just been, trying to anchor herself in something solid, but her heart wouldn't allow it.
Alice stroked her shoulder, concern on her face. "Jill, what is it?" "What did you see?"
Jill turned slowly to face her, her countenance unraveling. Her lips moved, but no explanation emerged. How can you explain something that contradicts what is meant to be true?
How do you tell someone that they aren't missing to you?
Jill didn't respond mentally.
Because she didn't know how to convey what she had seen without appearing insane to others.
And it was the scariest part.
She peeked out the window again, hoping—and dreading—to see him.
But the space was unoccupied.
Until Dave Collins smiled at her through the mirror in the open window.