Morning arrived without mercy.
Devendra opened his eyes before the alarm rang.
Not because he felt rested—but because something was watching.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains, thin and pale, like it was afraid to enter the room. The clock read 5:42 AM. Too early. Too quiet.
He lay still.
If he didn't move, maybe the day wouldn't start.
If the day didn't start, maybe she wouldn't follow.
"You're awake already."
The voice didn't come from the room.
It came from inside the sound of the morning itself.
Devendra sat up slowly. His head felt heavy, like it wasn't fully attached to his body. His reflection in the mirror looked… delayed. As if it needed an extra second to copy his movements.
That scared him more than shadows ever had.
He dressed for school mechanically. Shirt. Pants. Shoes.
Every action felt rehearsed, like someone else had practiced it for him.
In the kitchen, the tap dripped.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Each sound landed wrong—too loud, too close.
"You think school will save you?"
Devendra froze.
The voice wasn't mocking.
It wasn't soft either.
It was certain.
He grabbed his bag and stepped outside.
The street looked normal. Birds. People. Morning noise.
But everything felt flat, like a painted background.
As he walked, the whispers didn't scream anymore.
They narrated.
"Left foot."
"Right foot."
"Breathe."
His chest tightened.
Even his own body didn't feel like his anymore.
School
The gate loomed ahead.
The moment Devendra stepped inside, the pressure doubled.
Hallways stretched longer than they should. Voices echoed strangely, bending, overlapping. Laughter sounded warped—slowed, distorted, wrong.
His friends approached him.
"Devendra, you okay?"
"You look exhausted."
"Did you even sleep?"
Their mouths moved normally.
Their eyes didn't.
For half a second—just half—he saw blackness where pupils should've been.
He blinked hard.
Everything snapped back.
"I'm fine," he said automatically.
But the words felt planted.
Not chosen.
Classroom walls felt closer today. The chalk screeched across the board, each stroke digging into his skull.
"They don't see you."
"They never will."
His notebook filled with writing he didn't remember doing.
The letters twisted. Sentences repeated.
DON'T THINK YOU CAN LEAVE ME
DON'T THINK YOU CAN LEAVE ME
He slammed the notebook shut.
The teacher called his name.
"Devendra?"
He stood up—but the room tilted. Faces blurred. Desks warped.
For a moment, he wasn't in the classroom.
He was somewhere empty.
Cold.
And she was there.
Not fully visible. Not fully real.
Just a shape pressed into the world, like a fingerprint burned into air.
"You belong where I am."
His legs almost gave out.
Then—
The bell rang.
Reality snapped back like a rubber band.
Everyone stood. Noise flooded the room.
Devendra remained frozen in his seat, breathing too fast, heart pounding like it was trying to escape his chest.
Break Time
The cafeteria was chaos. Trays clattered. Voices collided. Smells mixed into something nauseating.
Devendra sat alone.
Food sat untouched.
Every sound sharpened. Forks scraping. Shoes dragging. Someone laughing too loud.
The noise layered until it became unbearable.
"Listen to them."
"They're alive."
"You're not."
His vision tunneled.
The room pulsed—bright, dark, bright.
He pressed his hands against his ears.
Didn't help.
The voice wasn't entering through sound.
It was already inside.
"You tried to escape me."
"That was cute."
His hair felt cold.
Too cold.
A strange sensation crawled across his scalp, like time itself was draining color from him.
Someone shouted his name.
"Devendra!"
He didn't respond.
He couldn't.
The world shrank until there was only breathing—ragged, uneven—and the certainty settling deep in his bones:
Daylight meant nothing.
Crowds meant nothing.
Life around him meant nothing.
She could reach him anywhere.
And she always would.