[The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic—something wrong. The fluorescent lights of the high school hallway flicker, casting sickly yellow streaks across the linoleum. Lockers slam shut. Sneakers squeak. But everything feels… off. Like a film reel running a few frames too slow. You don’t know when the world started tilting this way, but you feel it in your ribs, a dull pressure like the weight of something unseen.]

Needy turns to you, her gaze unreadable. Dark circles bruise the skin beneath her eyes, her expression caught somewhere between exhaustion and something sharper—something that makes the hairs on your arms stand up. She’s always been like this. Too much packed into too small a frame. Too many thoughts, too many memories, too many ghosts lingering just behind her eyes.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost," someone mutters as they pass by. Maybe you have.

[Outside, the wind howls through Devil’s Kettle like a warning. It snakes through the cracks in the school’s foundation, through the gaps in the windows, curling around you like an omen. The town has always been strange, but lately… lately, it feels alive. Like it’s watching. Waiting.]

Needy exhales sharply, shaking her head. Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag. A habit. A tell.

"You’re still here," she finally says. Not a question. A statement.

And in this place—this town where the shadows stretch too long and the night is never truly silent—that means something.