The sky was a faded shade of gray, caught between evening and night. Not quite dark. Not really light. The kind of sky that looked like it was holding its breath.
Lira sat on the edge of the old concrete bench behind the gym building. Her hands rested on her lap, unmoving, while her body stiffened under a tension she couldn't place.
Something felt off.
Not like danger.
More like… being watched by something that didn't blink.
"You're not supposed to be here today," a voice broke the silence, casual and a little too cheerful.
Lira turned slowly.
Reva stood a few feet away, one hand clutching a plastic bag from the school canteen, her breath just slightly uneven, like she had been looking for Lira longer than she wanted to admit.
"I changed my mind," Lira said, quietly.
Reva watched her for a moment, like she was trying to match Lira's face to an image in her head. "Weird dream again?"
Lira nodded, then whispered, "This time, I'm not sure I ever woke up."
Reva sat beside her, kicking her legs back and forth like a child pretending not to care. "I had a dream too. There was a giant bat chasing me with a red umbrella. We might both need therapy."
Lira smiled, just a little.
But something inside her didn't relax. Not at all.
Because when she woke up this morning...
she heard a voice.
Not from outside.
And not from inside either.
It wasn't her.
---
Back in class, everything had the texture of a hospital waiting room. Silent. Air too still. People too focused on looking busy.
Mr. Reno handed out worksheets. Numbers and formulas blurred together in front of Lira's eyes.
She wasn't looking at the questions.
She was watching the shadows on the whiteboard.
Her shadow.
It was following her.
But not exactly.
She raised her hand slightly.
The shadow followed.
But then, half a second later... it shrugged.
She stared down at her desk, gripping her pen. Her breath hitched.
Then it spoke. Not out loud.
Inside.
I know you see it.
The voice wasn't male.
Wasn't female.
It was just… cold. Neutral. Precise. Like it came from somewhere behind her bones.
"Lira?" Mr. Reno called.
She snapped her head up. "Yes?"
"If you don't know the answer, that's alright. But don't drift too far."
"Sorry, sir," she mumbled.
He nodded and moved on.
But the voice didn't stop.
You think this is about one version trying to replace you?
No. It's much bigger than that.
They're all speaking now.
Every version you almost became.
Her pen slipped from her fingers.
Ink leaked across the page.
Her hand trembled.
They?
All of them?
---
She didn't go to the cafeteria during lunch.
Instead, she climbed the narrow staircase behind the library that led to the old attic. No one went there anymore.
Dust clung to the windows. The air smelled like paper and forgetting.
Lira stood in the center of the room.
"I know you're here," she whispered.
Silence.
But she knew.
She was being heard.
She closed her eyes. Took a breath.
"I'm not afraid."
The voice answered.
But this time, it wasn't just inside her head.
It came from behind her.
Close.
Real.
"I know," it said.
"But you should be."
***
Lira spun around.
No one was there.
Just the same dusty shelves. The same faded posters peeling from the walls. The same crooked window with its dull reflection.
And yet...
The reflection didn't match her.
Her movements were a second off. Just barely. But enough.
Enough to make her feel like she wasn't alone in her own body.
She stepped closer to the window. Her reflection stood still, head tilted slightly to one side, eyes too calm. Studying her.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
No answer.
She dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out the flip phone. The screen stayed dark for a few seconds, then flickered, as if trying to decide whether it had anything worth showing.
It stayed blank.
Quiet.
But she could feel it humming faintly in her hand. Not dead. Not alive. Just… waiting.
Waiting for her to open something she didn't want to see again.
She didn't press the button.
Not because she was scared of the message...
but because she wasn't sure she still had the right to make the choice.
---
Footsteps echoed from the floor below.
Lira quickly pocketed the phone and tried to calm her breath.
"Lira?" Reva's voice floated up the stairs. "You up there? I got bread from the canteen. One for you."
Lira stayed silent for a beat.
Then another voice whispered near her ear.
Not from outside.
From inside the attic.
She didn't turn toward it.
She doesn't know she's not Reva.
Her blood turned cold.
The words.
The exact words from the message. The one she received back then. The warning.
Don't talk to her. She doesn't know she's not Reva.
But this was her Reva. The one who laughed too loudly. Who always brought two breads even when she pretended not to care.
Wasn't she?
Still frozen, Lira finally called out, "I'm here."
The stairs creaked. Reva appeared at the top, bag in hand, smile soft.
"You're hard to find when you disappear."
Lira didn't speak.
Reva walked closer.
Lira's eyes didn't leave her.
"Reva," she said carefully. "Do you remember when we first sat next to each other?"
Reva blinked. "Huh?"
"Our first day in class. Did I sit first, or did you?"
Reva smiled. "I did, obviously. You were the shy one."
Lira felt her stomach twist.
That wasn't right.
She remembered it clearly. She had come early. The seat was hers. Reva had asked if it was taken.
And now...
A crack formed in the silence between them.
The smile on Reva's face held. But her eyes seemed to empty. Like something else had moved behind them.
Lira stepped back.
"You're not Reva."
For a long second, Reva didn't answer.
Then she tilted her head slightly, and said in a voice that didn't quite belong to her:
"I tried to be. Because she's the one you trust."
Lira's mouth went dry.
"Who are you?"
The girl looked down. Her shoulders trembled slightly. Then she whispered without moving her lips:
"One of you."
***
The silence between them was thick, almost physical. Like the space itself knew it wasn't safe anymore.
"One of me?" Lira echoed, her voice barely a whisper.
Reva... or the thing wearing her, lifted her eyes slowly. There was no malice in them. No pity either. Just something colder.
Resignation.
"There are more of us than you think," the not-Reva said. "More than the system ever recorded. More than even the real Reva could remember."
Lira swallowed hard.
"Then who are you?"
The girl blinked. "I don't know."
Lira stared at her. "You don't know?"
"I was almost you," she said. "But I didn't make it. I was a version that got skipped. Or overwritten. Or deleted. I don't remember how I was left behind. Only that I wasn't chosen."
Her voice didn't shake.
That was what scared Lira the most.
She sounded like someone who had accepted not being real.
The girl took a small step forward.
Lira instinctively took two back.
"I don't want your body," the version said. "I just want to exist. That's all."
"But you already..."
"No." Her tone sharpened. "This is temporary. I can only slip in when you hesitate. When your mind isn't full. When you doubt your place in this world."
Lira felt her breath quicken.
So every time she paused, every time she questioned herself, she was opening a door.
A door for them.
"Aren't you just a glitch?" Lira asked, even as her voice betrayed the fear behind the question.
The girl smiled gentle, tragic. "If I am, then I've lasted longer than any of you ever expected."
---
Lira turned and rushed down the stairs, not waiting for another answer.
She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to get away.
The thing upstairs didn't follow.
That scared her more than if it had.
Because it meant…
it didn't need to.
It had already spoken. Already planted itself in her mind.
And now, it could wait.
She ran until she reached the girls' bathroom on the east wing and locked herself in the last stall. Her breathing was shallow. Her hands shaking.
She reached for the flip phone.
The screen lit up immediately.
No messages.
Just one line pulsing softly in white:
THEY DON'T NEED TO HIDE ANYMORE
---
Lira wanted to throw it. Scream. Anything.
But her body didn't move.
Because somewhere deep inside her…
A part of her agreed.
And she didn't know which part it was.
***
Evening fell too quickly.
The school halls emptied, but Lira stayed behind... half by choice, half by instinct.
Being alone felt dangerous.
Being with others felt worse.
Shadows stretched thin across the corridor walls. Everything felt too quiet, too still, like the building itself was holding its breath.
Then she saw her.
At the far end of the hallway.
Standing completely still.
Same height. Same uniform. Same posture.
Same face.
Lira froze.
The figure didn't move.
But she was watching.
Their eyes met.
And something clicked, like a key turning the wrong way in a lock.
Lira stepped forward, slowly.
The figure didn't react.
"Are you the same one from before?" Lira asked, barely above a whisper.
The girl tilted her head.
"Same as which?" she answered, without opening her mouth.
The voice slipped through the air, cold and clean, like something that didn't come from lungs or breath.
Lira's skin prickled.
"Where did you come from?"
The figure's smile was faint. Measured. "Does it matter?"
Lira looked around. The walls were… wrong. Too smooth. Too dim. The posters had no text. The lockers looked closed but not sealed.
It wasn't her school anymore.
Not really.
Not fully.
"You're not supposed to be here," Lira whispered.
"I never was," the girl said.
And then everything cracked.
Not with sound.
With silence.
The hallway split like glass struck from beneath. The floors rippled. Reflections blinked into existence where there shouldn't have been any.
Lira was surrounded.
By herself.
Dozens of versions.
Some distorted.
Some beautiful.
Some broken.
And one stepped forward.
"I almost became you," she said. Her voice was softer than the others. Fragile, like she remembered how it felt to be afraid. "But you made a different choice."
"I didn't know I was choosing anything," Lira said.
"You did," another version said. "Even silence is a choice."
Lira turned in circles, chest heaving.
"I don't want to erase any of you."
"But someone always gets erased," a third one said. Her eyes were sharp. Bitter. "Even if you think you're being fair."
A figure stepped out from the crowd.
She looked exactly like Lira.
But her movements were confident. Her smile didn't twitch.
She wasn't mimicking.
She was leading.
"I'm not here to erase you," she said calmly.
"Then what do you want?"
The version smiled.
"To prove I belong here as much as you do."
***
Lira stared into her own face.
Not a dream.
Not a mirror.
A version of her, just as real, just as solid... standing inches away.
The girl's smile held no warmth. But there was no cruelty either.
Just certainty.
"I was made from every moment you hesitated," she said.
Lira's voice cracked. "You're just a piece of doubt."
"I'm the piece that never let go," the version replied. "The part that survived every time you looked away. Every time you said 'maybe later'. Every time you swallowed your fear and pretended it didn't matter."
Lira's hands clenched at her sides. The space around them shuddered like glass under strain.
"No one remembers you," Lira said, more desperate than cruel. "Not even me."
"That's why I'm still here," she whispered.
The air shifted.
The room... the fake hallway, started to tremble.
Lights flickered. Reflections blurred.
The entire layer of reality was caving in.
The other versions began to fade, dissolving into static like memories losing their anchor.
Only one remained.
The version closest to her.
Lira stepped forward, trembling.
"I don't want to erase anyone," she said. "But I don't want to lose myself either."
The other Lira tilted her head. "Then don't. But you better start remembering who you are. Because the system doesn't care who came first. It only recognizes who survives."
Then, like a spark in the dark, everything went black.
---
Lira opened her eyes.
Her ceiling.
Her bed.
The same faded curtains, drifting in the early morning breeze.
She sat up slowly.
Her body felt heavy.
Not tired. Just… full.
Like something had taken up more space inside her.
She turned toward the mirror on her desk.
Her reflection looked back.
It blinked when she blinked.
Tilted its head exactly when she did.
For the first time in days, they were in sync.
But just as she stood to leave...
the reflection smiled.
Too fast.
Too early.
Then gone.
---
The flip phone on her desk lit up. No vibration. No sound.
Just one line on a blank screen:
SOMEONE STAYED.
***