The first note appeared taped to the motel door.

You were the one who found it.

Maya was in the bathroom, washing her face, trying to calm the tremors that still hit her randomly. You opened the door to grab food—and froze.

A simple piece of paper.

Three words written in messy black marker:

“Is Tamara home?”

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Maya stepped beside you. “What is it?” she asked—then saw the note.

The color drained from her face.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no… they’re back.”

You ripped the paper down immediately. “We don’t know that. This could be someone trying to scare you. A sick copycat. It doesn’t mean it’s them.”

But Maya wasn’t listening. Her breathing turned shallow. “They used the same words. The same way. They can’t just—come back.”