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“Sammy! Sammy!”
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She heard her mother’s voice, distant and echoing. It was calling her from somewhere… nowhere. Sammy ran—blindly—trying to find the source, but the more she ran, the further it seemed. Darkness pressed in on all sides like a thick fog, and her breath came in shallow gasps. She turned a corner and saw nothing but blackness stretching endlessly, like the world had fallen off its own edge.
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Then—
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A blinding light.
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She jolted awake.
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Daylight spilled through the window. Her nightgown clung to her skin, soaked in sweat. Sammy sat up, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Was that another dream? she wondered. What’s going on with me? Why do these dreams feel so real? Her fingers trembled slightly as she brushed her damp hair back.
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“Sammy, come down, darling! Breakfast is ready!” her mother—Mrs. Smith—called cheerfully from downstairs.
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She checked the clock: 8:00 AM.
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With a sigh, Sammy got out of bed and dragged herself to the bathroom. The coolness of the tiles grounded her a bit. She turned on the tap, leaned over, and splashed her face.
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Click.
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She froze.
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The sound came from her room.
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She turned off the tap. Silence.
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Click.
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The sound again. Her pulse quickened.
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Her mind raced back to the dream—the endless road, the suffocating dark, the grotesque figure with hollow eyes. Something about this moment felt wrong.
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Then—rattle.
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It came from the door.
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Sammy, driven by a sudden rush of panic, yanked open the bathroom door and rushed into her room.
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A small figure stood there—a boy, maybe ten years old, holding her geometry box in both hands.
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It was just Ricky, her younger brother.
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“Ricky!” she snapped. “Why didn’t you knock before coming in?”
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Ricky just grinned, mischievously. He flipped open the box, took out her new pencil, held it up like a prize, and slipped it into his pocket.
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“This is mine now!” he declared and darted for the door.
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“Dad bought that for me!” Sammy shouted, chasing after him.
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But he was already gone—his laughter echoing down the corridor.
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Sammy groaned and stomped back toward the bathroom.
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But for a brief moment… as she passed the mirror, she paused.
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The reflection was still.
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Her body moved.
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She stood frozen, staring at the mirror in disbelief.
Had her reflection really stayed still... while she moved?
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Was it real, or were the dreams beginning to mess with her mind?
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Her mother’s voice rang out again from downstairs.
“Sammy! Come on, sweetheart!”
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Shaking off the lingering chill, Sammy called back, “Coming!”
She turned away from the mirror and opened her closet.
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Her eyes landed on a dress that felt just right—soft and airy, with delicate floral prints that matched her free-spirited vibe. She slipped into it, letting the fabric flow around her legs, hoping its lightness would lift the heaviness in her chest.
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As she finished adjusting the dress and faced the mirror again, her phone buzzed behind her.
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Sammy walked to her study table and picked it up. A flood of notifications lit up the screen—texts from her friends, all wishing her a happy 17th birthday.
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She smiled faintly. Seventeen.
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With quick fingers, she typed out replies, thanking them. For a moment, everything felt... normal.
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Then she headed down to the dining room, unaware that the mirror upstairs still showed a girl standing there—facing it.
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And she wasn’t smiling.
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Everyone was already at the table.
Her mother, her father, and even Ricky were seated, laughing and eating. One seat remained empty—the one right across from Mr. Smith. It was hers.
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“Good morning, Sam. Did you sleep well?” her father asked without looking up from the newspaper.
Sammy gave a small nod, not trusting her voice yet. The images from the night still clung to her like cobwebs.
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The table was covered in her favorite dishes. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, fruit salad, sausages—all steaming and perfect. Her stomach growled in protest against the nausea from the morning’s memory. Her mother handed her a plate with a warm smile.
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Just as she picked up a piece of pancake, Ricky snatched it from her hand and stuffed it in his mouth.
With cheeks full, he grinned. “Mine now.”
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Sammy rolled her eyes in annoyance.
“Ricky, have some manners!” her mother snapped.
Still chewing, Ricky only laughed louder.
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Mrs. Smith scowled. “Next time you pull that, you’ll be sitting on the floor to eat.”
Before anyone could say more, Mr. Smith interjected in a lighter tone, “So, Sam. First day of the new session—and your last year at school. You excited?”
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Sammy forced a smile. “Yeah... I hope this year turns out good.”
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As breakfast continued, her smile slowly faded.
No one had said it. No one wished her.
It was her seventeenth birthday, and yet... nothing.
Maybe they were planning a surprise? She hoped so.
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Still, an uneasiness crept under her skin. She stayed seated even after the others left. Mrs. Smith noticed.
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“Sam? Is everything okay? You seem... tense.”
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Sammy snapped out of her thoughts. “Yeah. I’m fine, Mom.”
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She stood up and wandered to the dining room window. Outside, a few people strolled past their house. Birds chirped in the dense greenery of their overgrown garden. The sky was an almost surreal shade of blue. Her parents were in the living room next door—her father smoking while her mother poured tea. Ricky ran in circles with his toy car, making obnoxious “vroom vroom” sounds that echoed off the walls.
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But her mind drifted. Back to the blackness.
Back to the Void.
She stared at the sky, but it felt as though it stared back. The colors began to fade into grey.
The chirping dulled.
The sounds of the house—muted.
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Then—CRASH!
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Ricky slammed into her.
Sammy fell with a thud, pain blooming up her arm.
“Ahhh!” she gasped, breath knocked out of her lungs.
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Her brother froze in place, the toy car still in his hand.
Mrs. Smith came rushing in. “What on earth, Ricky?!”
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As Sammy sat up, brushing herself off, Ricky darted away without a word.
Mrs. Smith knelt beside her. “Are you alright, dear?”
Sammy nodded slowly. Her head was spinning.
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While climbing the stairs, she glanced down—her mother was gently rubbing antiseptic on Ricky’s scraped knee.
He stood still, guilty, eyes watery at the corners.
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“This is why I tell you not to run around the house,” her mother said firmly.
Sammy wanted to go down and hug him, to let him know it was alright...
But she couldn’t.
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Her heart was pounding.
Not from the fall.
From the pull.
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That endless dark...
That Void.
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It was calling to her. Drawing her in like a whisper between thoughts.
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Back in her room, she sat on her bed and held her head. It ached—pulsed, throbbed—each beat syncing with the echo of the void in her mind.
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Why wouldn’t it stop?
Why did it feel like something was... watching?
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Her phone rang, the sudden sound cutting through the thick silence in the room.
She flinched.
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It was Marcus—a boy from school. They had been talking more lately. Laughing between classes. Sharing music. Walking together after school.
Just a few days ago, one of her friends whispered that Marcus might have a crush on her.
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Sammy wasn’t sure how she felt. She liked him. He was kind, thoughtful... honest.
But something kept her from thinking too far ahead. Like something unfinished. Unspoken. So she let things stay as they were.
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With a shaky breath, she answered.
“Hello?”
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“Hey... is everything alright?” Marcus’s voice was soft. Concerned. “You sound a bit... off.”
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“Yeah, yeah,” she said quickly. “Just... tired.”
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There was a short pause.
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“Happy Birthday, Sammy. Seventeen today.”
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She smiled faintly. “Thanks.”
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“How’s your sister, Marcus?” she asked, changing the subject.
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“She’s doing better. The fever’s gone, and the doctors say she might be discharged tomorrow.”
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“That’s really good,” Sammy replied warmly. “Would you mind if I came by the hospital after school? I... I really wanted to visit her.”
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“Why would I mind?” he said, a touch of surprise in his voice. “She’d love to see you. And I think... so would Mom.”
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“Then I’ll see you after school,” Sammy said.
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“See you,” Marcus said gently.
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“Bye.”
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“Bye.”
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As she hung up, her heart felt lighter. Memories of her and Marcus swirled through her mind—sunny afternoons, ice cream in the park, the sound of his laugh.
Her cheeks flushed pink. A tiny smile played at the corners of her lips. That funny little flutter danced in her stomach again, and this time it wasn’t fear. It was something warmer. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
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But then—
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CRASH.
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A sound. Sharp. Metal. Echoing.
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From the bathroom.
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She jolted upright, her breath catching.
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Her heart skipped. Her throat tightened. The warmth in her chest turned icy.
Her eyes locked on the bathroom door.
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It had come from there.
Something had fallen.
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And now… it was quiet again.
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Too quiet.
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Her hand reached for the doorknob, trembling. She stood up slowly. Each step toward the bathroom felt heavier than the last. She could hear her own thoughts. Feel her pulse pounding in her ears.
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The doorknob felt cold.
A shiver raced down her spine.
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Part of her screamed don’t open it.
Another part—curious, stubborn—refused to listen.
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Click.
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She turned the knob and opened the door—
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To find—
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