The cold January wind rattled the windows of Jake's small apartment as he set his coffee down on the table, his breath fogging up the glass. He wasn't expecting mail, but there it was—a slim package, worn and battered, the edges creased like it had been handled a hundred times. It bore no return address.

He tore the package open, frowning as he pulled out an old yearbook. His senior year—ten years ago. The cover was scratched, and his high school's emblem was barely visible beneath the wear. When he flipped it open, something felt wrong. The familiar, smiling photos of his classmates were... different. Pages were missing, entire sections cut cleanly out, leaving blank spaces where people had once been. Some photos were scratched through, their faces erased.

Jake felt a chill. He hadn't thought about most of these people in years. But as he flipped through the book, he began to recognize the missing faces. They were his classmates who had vanished over the past few years, one by one. The stories had been disturbing, but Jake had always thought they were isolated cases—people moving, losing touch, maybe choosing to disappear.

He stared at the yearbook, realizing he had only one option. He picked up his phone and dialed.