Samantha had decided she was done being haunted.
For a while, it worked.
She forced herself into normal. Nodded when teachers spoke. Laughed too loudly at Ron's dumb jokes in the hallway. Pretended that the memory of not breathing — of her body giving out — was just some dream she had exaggerated.
But some things refused to stay buried.
It started with a flicker.
Third period, the bell had just rung. She was at her locker, one hand on the dial when her chest tightened — the way it always did when something was coming.
She ignored it.
She turned the dial.
Then, just over the row of students...
A movement. Just at the edge of her eye.
Something — no, someone — brushed past the hallway window. A shimmer, a shadow blurred by the glass.
Not quite there. Not quite gone either.
Samantha blinked.
Her body moved before her brain caught up.
She slammed her locker shut and walked.
Then walked faster.
Then ran.
She didn't know what she was chasing — just that she had to.
Her footsteps echoed through the empty parts of the school — past rows of lockers, down the side door no one used, through the fence where the bars had rusted just enough to let her slip through.
The figure was always ahead.
Not running. Just moving — smooth and silent, like it floated just above the ground.
Never fully in view. Never fully real.
Still, she chased it.
Down the slope. Through the weeds.
Back to that place.
The river.
It looked the same as before — calm and glassy. Too still for comfort.
The figure stood near the bend, its back to her.
Closer now.
Still slightly blurred around the edges, like reality couldn't decide if it should be allowed to exist.
Samantha's breath came ragged.
"…Who are you?" she called out.
No movement.
She took a step forward.
The world felt quieter here — as if the birds and breeze were waiting too.
"Do you—do you know what's happening to me?" she tried again.
This time, the figure turned.
Not fully. Not enough to see a face.
But the blur sharpened — just slightly. Enough to make her stomach twist.
And then it spoke.
Not in a voice. Not in words she recognized.
More like a pulse.
A sound that hit behind her ears and inside her skull — like trying to remember a dream you never had.
It wasn't a language. It was a feeling.
Samantha flinched, staggering back. "I—I don't understand…"
The figure lifted its head.
And this time, it spoke again.
Real words.
"You do not seek the truth.
Yet it follows you like a scent."
"You do not remember.
Yet you return to the place of forgetting."
"You are not ready.
Yet you chase the veil."
Samantha's hands trembled.
"I don't know what that means," she whispered, voice hoarse. "Are you talking about… about what happened to me? At school? Was that you?"
Silence.
The figure's form shimmered — less blur now. More shape. More weight.
The shadows clung to it like a second skin.
And suddenly, impossibly, Samantha felt a pull.
Not from her body. From inside her chest. Like something remembered the figure before her brain ever could.
Her fingers moved upward. Slowly. She was reaching — not to run. Not to scream.
To uncover.
To see.
She stepped forward. Raised a hand. Her fingers brushed the edge of the figure's hood—
"Samantha!"
A sharp voice behind her, real and startled.
Her heart jumped.
She spun.
Ron.
His face was flushed, eyes wide. He looked like he had sprinted across the entire school. His gaze darted between her and the figure.
"What are you—" his voice faltered. "Sam, don't—"
She turned back.
Gone.
The figure had vanished.
Not fled. Not evaporated. Just... gone. Like it had never been.
Only the river remained, too quiet, too calm — like it had swallowed the moment whole.
Ron reached her side, panting. "What the hell was that? I've been looking for you everywhere— Are you okay?"
Samantha didn't answer.
Because she wasn't sure.
She wasn't sure about anything.
Only that whatever just happened...
It wasn't over.
Not even close.