The dim light of the library flickered, throwing distorted shadows across the walls as Lila and I continued to sift through the brittle pages of the ledger. The air was dense with the smell of decaying paper and the suffocating weight of unease. At first, the names we uncovered were just tragic remnants of history, whispers of a past no one talked about anymore. But as we delved deeper, it became horrifyingly clear—this wasn't just history. This was a record of something still unfolding.
I stared at the final entries on the page, my heart pounding as if trying to escape the cage of my chest. Peter Harper. Hannah Holloway. My breath caught. It wasn't just the boy from the festival listed here, a boy who had already vanished. It was my sister.
Lila's voice cut through the haze, sharp and trembling. "Ethan… we need to leave. Now. We have to get to Hannah before—" She didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't need to. I knew exactly what she meant.
I grabbed the diary, the ledger, and shoved them into my bag, my hands shaking so badly I could barely zip it shut. "Let's go," I muttered, my voice barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears.
We didn't wait to turn off the library's dim desk lamp or return the books to their shelves. As we rushed out into the cool night air, the streetlights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a sickly yellow glow over the empty sidewalks. The town felt eerily quiet, like it was holding its breath.
"Do you think it's just a coincidence?" I asked, though my voice betrayed the hope I wanted to cling to. "Maybe… maybe it doesn't mean anything. Maybe Hannah will be fine."
Lila shot me a look that was both desperate and determined. "You know it's not a coincidence. Peter's gone, Ethan. You saw it. He disappeared the same night we saw his name in that book. We can't ignore this."
I didn't reply. Deep down, I knew she was right. Everything—the diary, the ledger, the whispered stories about the town—pointed to a single, inescapable truth. But I wasn't ready to face it. Not yet.
The walk back to my house felt endless. Every shadow seemed darker, every sound sharper, every breath harder to take. By the time we reached the porch, my palms were slick with sweat despite the chill in the air.
The warm glow of the porch light washed over us as Hannah's voice called out cheerfully from the swing set. "Ethan! Lila! You're back late."
I froze, caught between relief and panic. She was still here, safe, sitting on the porch swing and humming a familiar tune. But how long would that last?
"Hey, Hannah," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "What are you doing out here?"
"Just waiting for you," she said with a shrug. "Dad's working late, so I made mac and cheese. Want some?"
I forced a smile, even as my mind raced. "Maybe later. Why don't you head inside for now? Lila and I have something to talk about."
Hannah tilted her head curiously but didn't argue. She hopped off the swing and disappeared into the house, leaving me and Lila alone in the stillness of the night.
"We don't have much time," Lila said the moment the door clicked shut. "If what we saw in that ledger is true, she could disappear at any moment."
I nodded, clutching the diary like a lifeline. "The diary might have answers. There has to be something in here we missed."
Lila hesitated, her gaze fixed on the leather-bound book in my hands. "Ethan, every time you open that thing, something worse happens. Are you sure—"
"I have to," I interrupted, my voice hard. "It's the only thing that's been right about any of this. If it knows what's coming, maybe it can help us stop it."
Reluctantly, Lila nodded, and we sat on the porch steps together. My hands shook as I flipped through the pages, each one feeling heavier than the last. The diary seemed to pulse with an ominous energy, its words waiting to reveal another cruel truth.
Finally, I found the entry I'd been looking for.
Diary Entry: November 12, 1994
You will try to save her.
You will run, you will fight, you will do everything in your power to stop what's coming. But it won't matter.
The darkness has already chosen her.
She will scream for you, and you will hear her, but you won't reach her in time. And when she's gone, you will blame yourself. But it won't be your fault.
You were never meant to save her.
The words stared back at me, taunting, final. My breath caught in my throat as the meaning sank in, each sentence like a dagger twisting deeper into my chest.
"No," I whispered, shaking my head violently. "No, this can't be right. It's lying. It has to be lying!"
Lila leaned over to read the entry, her face pale as a ghost. "Ethan… this…" Her voice trembled, trailing off into silence.
I slammed the diary shut and stood abruptly, the wooden steps creaking under my weight. "I won't let this happen," I said, my voice rising with desperation. "Hannah's not going anywhere. Not if I can help it."
"Ethan, wait!" Lila grabbed my arm, her grip firm despite the fear in her eyes. "We need to think about this. If this thing knows what's going to happen, maybe it's telling you so you can stop it. There has to be a reason it's showing you all this."
I pulled my arm free, pacing across the porch. "How? How am I supposed to stop something I don't even understand? It says I can't save her, Lila. It says—"
"Stop," she interrupted, stepping in front of me. "Don't let it get to you. We don't know what's going to happen. But sitting here panicking isn't going to help. We need a plan."
Her words were like a lifeline, grounding me when I felt like I might spiral into despair. I took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. "You're right. We need to act fast. First, we lock every door and window in the house. Whatever's coming for her, we won't make it easy."
"Good," Lila said, her voice steadier now. "And we'll stay with her. We won't let her out of our sight."
As we stepped inside, the warmth of the house felt suffocating rather than comforting. Hannah was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, flipping through one of her sketchbooks. She looked up as we entered, her expression curious.
"Everything okay?" she asked, her pencil paused mid-sketch.
"Yeah," I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just… wanted to hang out for a bit."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press further, returning her attention to her drawing. Lila and I exchanged a glance, unspoken agreement passing between us. We wouldn't let anything happen to her.
But even as I tried to focus on the present, the diary's words lingered in my mind, a cruel echo that refused to be silenced.
You were never meant to save her.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure if I could prove it wrong.