Maya wakes up to silence.

Not the peaceful kind.

The wrong kind.

No footsteps. No voices from the other rooms. No sound from the kitchen where her friends were laughing just hours ago.

Her heart starts pounding.

“Guys?” she calls softly.

No answer.

She rushes through the house—empty couch, empty hallway, empty guest room.

Your room is empty too.

Her chest tightens. “No… no, no, no…”

She runs to the front door.

That’s when she sees it.

Taped right at eye level.

A plain white envelope.

Her hands shake as she pulls it free and opens it.

Inside is one sentence, written in uneven, familiar lettering:

“Only one of them gets to come home. Choose wisely.”

Her breath leaves her in a broken whisper.

Your name is written first.

Then the others.

Her knees buckle as she sinks to the floor, clutching the note to her chest.

“This isn’t real… this isn’t real…”

But deep down, she knows.

This is exactly how they work.