Daniel Bell sat at the kitchen table, sipping from a chipped mug that read World’s Okayest Dad. He wore a dress shirt and a loosened tie. Below that, just athletic shorts.

  He scrolled through his phone, thumbing past headlines and skimming a few articles. Some of the news clearly bothered him. He squinted at the screen like it had personally offended him.

  “Are you even listening to me?” a voice said, cutting through his focus.

  Daniel looked up, then quickly locked the screen and set it down beside his mug. “Totally,” he said. “You were talking about... vegetables?”

  His wife, Marcy, gave him a long look from across the kitchen. She stood at the counter in her apron, one hand still gripping a half-sliced pepper, the knife resting against the board.

  “I said,” she repeated, slower this time, “that she didn’t sound okay.”

  “She’s been through a lot,” he offered, not quite looking at her.

  “She’s only fifteen.”

  Marcy stopped cutting. “It’s the third school in two years, Dan.”

  “I know.”

  “She can’t keep starting over like this. It’s not good for her.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  They went quiet again. The knife moved slower now. Daniel set his phone face-up on the table.

  “You’ve been around less,” she said after a moment.

  “I work from home.”

  She gave him a look over her shoulder. “You’re not even wearing pants, Daniel.”

  “It’s called remote professionalism,” he said, gesturing at himself. “Respect on the top, rebellion on the bottom. It’s the future of work.”

  Marcy tapped the knife against the cutting board, then resumed her work. “Well, maybe the future of parenting could include a little more conversation.”

  Daniel leaned back in his chair. “What do you want me to say? I’m trying. It’s hard to keep up with her lately.”

  “You should try spending more time with her. I just don’t understand what happened. You two used to be so close.”

  “Yeah, well, back then she was into dinosaurs and bedtime stories. Now it’s all eye rolls and slammed doors.”

  “You still matter to her.”

  “I know.”

  The knife made one more clean slice, then slipped. Marcy sucked in a breath.

  “Ow, damn it.”

  Daniel straightened. “You okay?”

  “I almost sliced my finger off.” She held up her hand, showing him a faint red line.

  “Probably that new set you bought,” he said, reaching over for his phone. “They’re making them way too sharp.”

  Marcy bit her finger. “I barely even touched it,” she added, more surprised than angry.

  She stood by the sink, rinsing the thin cut under cold water. It wasn’t deep, but she stared at it a moment longer than necessary before reaching for the towel.

  “She didn’t sound mad,” she said softly. “More… shaken. That’s what he said, anyway.”

  Daniel gave his mug a swirl, staring into it. “The teacher?”

  Marcy nodded as she dried her hands. “Yeah.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “What does that even mean? Shaken how?”

  “I don’t know. Just not herself. Left the room without a word. He said it was like she wasn’t really there.”

  Daniel let out a quiet breath. “You think it’s starting again?”

  “I don’t know,” Marcy said, folding the towel over the oven handle. “But it feels familiar. Doesn’t it?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, the sound of the front door opening cut through the kitchen.

  A moment later, Lisa stepped in, her bag hanging off one shoulder.

  “Hey, honey,” Daniel said, straightening a little in his seat. “You’re home early.” He took a slow sip from his mug, then looked up at her again. “Everything okay at school?”

  Lisa met his gaze for a long second, then dropped her bag by the door. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She moved past them and headed for the stairs. A few seconds later, her bedroom door slammed shut.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Daniel blinked, looking over at Marcy. “Was it something I said?”

  She was already untying her apron. “I’ll go talk to her,” Marcy said, making her way toward the stairs.

  Upstairs, Lisa’s bedroom was small but cozy. Posters of bands she liked and a colorful tapestry hung on the walls. Her desk was heavy with schoolbooks and a laptop, its screen dimmed from earlier use.

  She lay flat on her stomach in bed, arms folded over her face, pressing into the soft pillow. The events at school churned in her mind, looping over and over. The strange silence, Mr. Calder’s transformation, the frantic escape through the hallways. Had it all been real? Or just a nightmare her exhausted brain conjured? Maybe she’d fallen asleep in class, and it was some twisted daydream. Nothing so monstrous could possibly be true.

  Slowly, she rolled onto her side, curling inward. The laptop’s quiet fan hummed in the silence.

  A soft knock came at the door.

  “Lisa?” her mother’s voice, gentle but hesitant.

  The door creaked open a few inches.

  “I brought your bag,” she said quietly, stepping inside. She set it down near the desk and took a slow step toward the bed.

  Without saying a word, Marcy sat beside her daughter, careful not to crowd her. The room felt smaller now, but safer somehow. Lisa stayed still, eyes closed, heart pounding quietly beneath her arms.

  Marcy reached out, pulling a loose strand of hair behind Lisa’s ear. “I’m here,” she whispered.

  Lisa gave a soft sigh. “Thanks, Mom,” she said. “I just don’t feel like talking today.”

  Marcy’s voice was soft but caring. “You know your father and I… we don’t like seeing you upset like this. If it’s something at school, you can tell me.” She hesitated, then asked gently, “Was it someone there? Maybe a boy you like?”

  Lisa stayed silent, her breathing shallow.

  Marcy hesitated again, then added quietly, “Or… a girl?”

  Lisa’s cheeks flushed red. She turned farther onto her side, hiding her face. “Mom!”

  Marcy smiled warmly. “Okay, okay. No pressure. Whenever you feel ready to talk, I’ll be right here.”

  A quiet stillness settled between them for a moment. Finally, Marcy spoke, “You know, your teacher called earlier.”

  Her daughter’s breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  “He asked about the accident… the one you said happened.”

  Lisa’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I didn’t mean to lie.”

  Marcy sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her close. “Hey, it’s okay. We all have days like this.” She smoothed Lisa’s hair back from her face. “Anyway, we agreed you should take today off. But tomorrow morning, you’ll go back and have a talk with Mr. Calder.”

  “I can’t go back,” Lisa whispered. “Please don’t make me.”

  Marcy was quiet for a moment, still stroking her daughter’s hair. When she spoke again, her voice was gentler, almost sad.

  “Honey… you can’t keep running from the things that scare you. I know it’s hard, but avoiding them won’t make them go away.”

  “I don’t want to go back.”

  Marcy’s hand paused. “But you have to, sweetheart. We can’t let one bad day ruin everything.” Her tone was still kind, but something beneath it had changed. “Education is important. Your future is important.”

  “Mom, please—”

  “And besides,” Marcy continued, speaking over her, “your father and I have already decided. You’re going, and that’s the end of it. No more discussion.”

  Lisa pulled back to look at her mother’s face. “But Mom—”

  “I said no more discussion.” Marcy’s expression stayed calm, but her eyes had gone flat and distant. “Six thirty in the morning. You’ll get up and get dressed. You’ll go to school. Just like always.”

  “But something’s wrong there,” Lisa tried desperately. “Something’s really wrong—”

  Marcy’s head tilted slowly to one side. “Wrong?” The word came out strange, slightly off-pitch. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. School is perfectly safe. School is where you belong.”

  Her hand moved from Lisa’s hair to her shoulder, gripping tight. “Where all the children belong.”

  Lisa’s heart pounded against her ribs.

  “You’ll sit at your desk,” Marcy continued, voice dropping. “You’ll wait for the bell. You’ll do exactly what you’re told.” Her fingers dug in harder. “You’ll be a good girl. A good player.”

  “Player?” Lisa breathed.

  Marcy’s pupils had dilated until her eyes were almost black. She leaned closer, and Lisa could smell something wrong, something chemical and sharp beneath her mother’s familiar scent. “That’s right, Lisa,” she whispered. “It wants you back. It can’t start without all its pieces. And you’re a very important piece.”

  “Mom, you’re scaring me—”

  “Good girls don’t run from school,” Marcy said, her voice now completely emotionless. “Good girls follow the rules.”

  Her other hand rose to touch Lisa’s face, fingers ice-cold. “And if you try to run again... if you try to hide...”

  Those black eyes bored into Lisa’s, seeing through her, past her. “We’ll just have to bring the school to you. Bring the desks. Bring the bell. Bring all your little friends.” She smiled, small and pleased. “We can set it all up right here in the living room. Wouldn’t that be nice? A classroom all your own. And Mommy can be the teacher.”

  She tilted her head the other way. “Oh yes. We could always make something special of it. Our own little thing. Mommy’s already got her kitchen knives and everything.”

  Lisa swallowed hard, a cold shiver running through her body. “No, it’s okay,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I’ll go.”

  Marcy’s grin widened, satisfied. “Good girl.” She stood and straightened her clothes, the warmth fading from her eyes as she moved to the door. “Remember, I’ll be watching.”

  It closed behind her, leaving Lisa alone with the quiet dread creeping deeper inside her chest. The moment she was alone, she burst into tears. Her sobs were quiet at first, then more desperate, as she buried her face in her hands. Her mother’s words still lingered in her mind. The gentle touch, the unsettling smile. Could she trust the woman who had just whispered those words?

  Suddenly, her phone buzzed loudly against the mattress, jolting her from the moment. Notification after notification lit up the screen.

  Sniffling, she wiped at her cheeks and reached for the device. Unlocking it, she saw she’d been added to a group chat named ‘The Scavengers’.

  A surge of nervous energy hit her as she opened it.

  The messages scrolled quickly:

  Mia: Hey, everyone! Meeting at Edelson Park, western gate, 4pm.

  Daryl: Don’t be late! We need to figure out the next move.

  Javi: Got some stuff to bring. Should be a good day.

  Theo: Watch your backs. Things have been weird lately.

  Lisa: (just added)

  Lisa stared at the screen. Somehow, the invitation felt like a lifeline. Wiping away the last of her tears, she drew a deep breath and swung her legs off the bed. She looked at the time. 2:15 p.m. She could make it if she left now. No time to change. Still in her school uniform, she grabbed her bag and headed for the stairs.

  Her father looked up from his phone as she passed through the kitchen. “Leaving already?” he asked, surprised. “Mom’s been making zucchini.”

  “I’ve got something for school,” she said quickly, already halfway to the door.

  The latch clicked. The door thumped shut behind her.

  Daniel leaned back in his chair, mug in hand. “Well, that must have been one hell of a talk,” he muttered, glancing toward Marcy.

  His wife appeared in the kitchen doorway, smoothing her apron, her gaze lingering on the closed door.

  She stood there for another moment, silent.

  “Yes,” she said then, quietly. “It was.”