The pink phone had lain charging under MC's pillow, a silent sentinel, waiting to be awakened after five years of slumber in a shoebox. It was a physical manifestation of their guilt, something real that was connected with Emma's past that they had no right to. The soft glow of the charging light pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat, reminding them of how grave an act it was.
"You took her phone?!" Maximus paced in circles around the guest room, his disbelief palpable. The image of MC on the stairs, Emma's phone in hand, was seared into his mind. He'd nearly shouted right then if Jake hadn't been nearby. His footsteps echoed in the quiet room, each one a reminder of the thin ice they were treading.
MC sat on the bed, eyes darting around the room for any sign of supernatural activity. No maggots in sight, but the absence of ghostly phenomena did little to calm his nerves. "I didn't mean to," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just pocketed it without thinking. It was like. like my hand had a mind of its own."
Maximus shot his brother an exasperated look, running his hands through his hair in frustration. If the Whitlocks discovered they'd been rifling through Emma's things. He shuddered at the thought, imagining the pain and betrayal on their faces. "Well, it's too late to return it now," he said, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.
He sank onto MC's bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. He had guilt eating at him like an ache in his chest. Did MC dislike him all this time? Was it his nosiness or that golden child status? Maximus came to the conclusion that he had known virtually nothing about his brother's battle until yesterday. That distance, which had long been a given in his life, suddenly felt chasmic. "Are you alright?" he dared to ask, the question lingering between them.
"I guess," MC replied flatly, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond the walls of the room. "A bit shitty though." The understatement was palpable, his words barely scratching the surface of the turmoil within.
Maximus nodded, his head feeling weighed down by the heaviness of the situation. The air was charged with unspoken tensions and gravity, all being heavy in that room, a physical force against which he stood. "Do you want to read more from Emma's diary?" he asked, almost afraid of the response.
"What choice do I have?" MC replied, the resignation in his voice a splash of color. "The past is revealing itself, whether we're ready for it or not." The words hung in the air like a stark reminder of the forces beyond their control that had set this chain of events in motion.
The brothers sat in tense silence, the pink phone a ticking time bomb beneath the pillow, holding secrets they both dreaded and needed to uncover. The quiet of the room was oppressive, broken only by the soft hum of the charging device and their own shallow breathing.
…
Emma was surprised by how calmly her parents handled the situation. She had been bracing herself for a full-blown meltdown, complete with frantic packing and a hasty exodus from Fallen Falls. Instead, they simply called the school to initiate an investigation, a response that left Emma both relieved and slightly bewildered. It was so different from what she had imagined-her parents running around the house, stuffing clothes into suitcases, calling real estate agents in far-flung cities.
As her father spoke quietly on the phone with the school principal, Emma couldn't help but overhear snippets of their conversation. Words like "thorough investigation" and "take this seriously" floated through the air, reassuring her that adults were taking charge of the situation. Yet, a part of her wondered if they were underestimating the threat. After all, stalking cases were notoriously difficult to prove, and often not taken seriously enough until it was too late.
And before she knew it, she and her friends were walking up the stairs to her room as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Normalcy was almost surreal in that moment; this was like a movie scene where characters try to continue with a sense of normalcy in the face of impending doom.
"See, Em," Lisa called out, her voice tinged with a mix of triumph and reassurance. "There was nothing to worry about. Look, you're still here and not being dragged away to god knows where."
Emma bit back the urge to point out that they absolutely would have whisked her away if there had been more concrete evidence of a stalker. But there was no point in dwelling on what-ifs. She was just grateful to still be in her home, surrounded by the familiar posters on her walls and the comforting scent of her favorite vanilla candle.
"Yeah, yeah," Emma responded, a hint of playful exasperation in her voice. "You were right, happy now?" She tried to match Lisa's lighthearted tone, but the words felt hollow in her mouth.
Lisa just shrugged as they continued their journey to Emma's room. Despite their light banter, an undercurrent of concern ran through the group. Prank or not, they all wanted Emma to be safe. The thought of anything happening to her was unbearable. Emma couldn't help but think of the stories she'd heard about stalking cases gone wrong, where victims weren't taken seriously until it was too late.
"Emma, you know that we have your back, right?" Rebecca asked, her tone serious. "We're not going to let anything happen to you." The determination in her voice reminded Emma of the fierce loyalty of her friends, a small comfort in the face of her growing fears.
Emma nodded, appreciating the sentiment even as anxiety continued to gnaw at her insides. She knew her friends meant well, but she also knew that if this was more than a prank, there was only so much they could do. The thought of an unknown person watching her, knowing her routines, made her skin crawl.
They entered her bedroom, each girl settling into their respective sleeping bags. The energy for late-night gossip had evaporated, replaced by a collective weariness. Rebecca closed the curtains, a symbolic gesture of shutting out the drama of the day. Emma couldn't help but wonder if those curtains were enough to keep prying eyes away.
"Good night," Emma murmured as she nestled into her pink bed. "I love you guys." The words felt inadequate to express the gratitude she felt for their presence, their unwavering support in the face of this unsettling situation.
A chorus of sleepy responses echoed back as everyone got comfortable. The note had cast a pall over their sleepover, and Emma felt a pang of guilt. Why her, out of everyone? What had she done to deserve this cruel joke? She thought about the hooded boy from school, wondering if he could be behind this. Was this his way of getting back at her for helping him? The possibilities swirled in her mind, each more unsettling than the last.
As her friends' breathing deepened into sleep, Emma lay awake, her mind racing. No matter how she tried, she couldn't shake off the unease that clung to her like a second skin. She found herself staring at the ceiling, wallowing in self-pity. Life really did suck sometimes.
In the quiet darkness, Emma's thoughts drifted to the potential consequences of this incident. Would she be labeled as the girl who cried wolf if it turned out to be a prank? Or worse, would she become known as the stalker girl, pitied and whispered about in the hallways? She thought about the students from that high school in Florida, whose prank had led to mass panic and criminal charges. What if this escalated in a similar way?
With night falling, Emma's imagination started running wild with scenarios. She pictured herself having to change schools, leaving everything and everyone she knew behind. She thought of MC, wondering if he would even notice that she was gone. The crush that had filled her thoughts a few days before now seemed pretty trivial in comparison to this new threat.
She turned and tossed all night, a pink phone concealed in her dresser drawer seeming to throb with unread messages. Was the solution to all this locked away inside that device, or was she just paranoid and turning a relatively harmless prank into something much more sinister in her head?
With the first light of dawn, Emma fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams filled with dark figures and unclear messages. Whatever the future held, she knew her life was irreversibly changed. The innocence of her childhood was slipping away, replaced by a world where trust was a luxury she could no longer afford.
…
The buzzing of the phone resounded, breaking the strained silence in the room. Maximus stopped reading, and the brothers sat there, paralyzed, while the phone vibrated with all the calls and messages that had not been returned over the years. The persistent buzzing seemed to echo the urgency and desperation of those who had tried to reach Emma over the years.
They both just stayed still for a while; neither of them showed interest in such a way that they let the phone ring almost endlessly. The weight of the moment was heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the tragedy that had brought them to this point. Then MC reached and grabbed the phone; his hand was shaking a little.
Opening up the screen, several hundred calls and messages between Emma's family and friends poured out of it. That was a massive load, each of them a declaration of the love and concern that poured out for Emma. MC thought that the Whitlock family must have given up hope after believing she must have had the phone the entire time, but it was inside a shoebox. The psychological weight from not having those calls returned must have been devastating.
For MC, this was more than a missed connection; it was an opportunity to delve deeper into Emma's life and uncover the truth that had always evaded them. With a mix of anticipation and dread, he exited the notifications, ready to explore further. But his hopes were quickly dashed as he found himself locked out by a password.
"Seems Emma knew more about privacy than we thought," he muttered, a hint of admiration now lacing his tone. "What now?"
MC did not have any answer right then. In a way, the password barrier presented them with a further hindrance in this investigation, bringing them back to the very fact that indeed they knew so little about Emma's inner world. "I guess we could continue reading," he suggested, without conviction.
Maximus looked unimpressed, his brow furrowing. "I would if we could."
"What do you mean?" MC asked, confusion evident in his tone.
"That's all I managed to photograph," Maximus answered, frustration creeping into his voice. "If only Jake hadn't come home. We could have learned more about this stalker."
MC shook his head, a mix of disappointment and resignation on his face. "Nah, I don't think it was going to help us much. If Emma knew who the stalker was, maybe she wouldn't be gone." The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the gravity of their situation.
"Great, we're stuck on square two," Maximus grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "We have a suspect but no leads to move forward." The brothers' amateur investigation seemed to parallel the challenges of real investigators in cyberstalking cases where digital evidence may be as elusive as it is complex.
The weight of their stalled progress fell around them, and Maximus lay back in the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. A moment of silence later, he turned to MC with a totally unexpected question: "Hey MC, are you annoyed with me?"
The sudden change in subject left MC taken aback. "Am I supposed to be?" he asked, plainly puzzled by the question.
Maximus took a deep breath before continuing, "I feel like you've never liked me since we first met. It feels like you didn't hate me, but you also didn't like me at the same time." The vulnerability in his voice was palpable, revealing a depth of insecurity that MC had never noticed before.
He pressed on, "You also never trusted me with anything until yesterday. I have learned more about you in two days than in the four years we have known each other." The words hung in the air, full of unspoken emotions and years of misunderstanding.
MC looked at Maximus, really looking at him for perhaps the first time. He realized he'd never known Maximus felt this way, that his own internal struggles had created a barrier between them. Sure, he'd said some harsh words now and then, but he never had any ill intentions. It hit him like a punch to the gut.
MC sighed, the weight of his own self-loathing evident in his voice, "I never hated you, buddy. I just hated myself." The admission felt like ripping off a bandage, exposing a wound he'd long tried to ignore.
Finding himself lying down next to Maximus, MC stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. "I'll never forget the first time I ever met you," he began, his voice soft with reminiscence.
…
MC had suffered another encounter with Emma's ghost, a haunting experience that had left him drained and disoriented. He found himself lying alone inside their home, acutely aware that he'd missed school again. The silence of the empty house seemed to amplify his isolation, a stark contrast to the bustling hallways he should have been navigating.
He lay on the couch, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, tracing invisible patterns in the plaster. The only sound breaking the oppressive quiet was his own heartbeat, thumping erratically in his chest. Exhaustion weighed on him like a physical presence, but he didn't dare close his eyes. Sleep, once a refuge, had become a battleground where Emma's specter waited to strike. He feared that this time she might attack him for real.
The memory of seeing her in his closet was still fresh, sending chills down his spine. She had just stood there, staring at him with hollow eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. MC was convinced that Emma might try to drag him into the closet, a portal to some kind of Shadow Realm where he'd be trapped forever. The fear had kept him awake the entire night, his eyes burning with fatigue as he vigilantly watched for any sign of her return.
His limbs felt like lead, weak from lack of sleep and proper nutrition. His stomach growled persistently, a reminder of meals missed and appetite lost. But the thought of eating made him nauseous. He was losing weight at an alarming rate, his clothes hanging loosely on his frame. In a moment of vulnerability, he found himself longing for his mom to come home - a thought he never imagined having before. The need for comfort, for someone to tell him he wasn't losing his mind, was overwhelming.
He glanced at the TV, which was making it hard to resist turning it on. He became bored, but he knew how it was when he was too sleepy, and he would never be able to focus on any program. Such mindless noise made him even more irritated, which only added to the chaos in his brain.
The sound of the front door opening was like an answer to an unspoken prayer, and he sat up, his heart racing; he had desperately wanted his mother by his side, a lifeline in the storm of his haunted existence.
He had brightened when he saw his mother enter, but his jaw fell when he took in the faces of her companions. Standing in the entrance of the living room was a muscular, ginger-haired man with a friendly smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Beside him, partially hidden, was a small blonde boy who peeked out from behind his father's legs, curiosity and apprehension warring on his young face.
"Michael," she started, a nervousness about her voice one didn't typically associate with Michael's mother. "This is Ron and his son Maximus."
She explained their presence as if MC had to understand what it was all about, but it wasn't until after Ron and Maximus left that she told him the truth: they were seeing each other. The news hit MC like a physical blow. He didn't know how to feel. Should he be happy for his mother's newfound happiness? Or angry about her remarrying, moving on while he was still trapped in a nightmare?
MC didn't really like Ron, suspecting he was only interested in his mom for reasons he couldn't quite articulate. But he kept these thoughts to himself, swallowing his misgivings. He knew his mom needed someone, a support system he couldn't provide in his current state. Who was he to take that away from her?
Before he knew it, they were married, with Ron and Maximus moving into their house. The change happened so quickly, it left MC reeling. But he was too preoccupied with his own issues to care much about the shifting family dynamics. He had no energy, couldn't eat, and worst of all, couldn't sleep without facing Emma's ghost. His entire personality changed as time passed, the trauma of his haunting experiences reshaping him into someone he barely recognized. He wasn't the same carefree boy he used to be as in Fallen Falls.
Maximus was elated to have a mom-an aspect that filled MC with a complex mix of shame and resentment. The kid seemed to embody everything MC was not-happy, well-adjusted, untouched by the horrors that plagued MC's every waking moment. But MC couldn't bring himself to hate Maximus. Who was he to blame an innocent child for his own problems? Still, a part of him worried about contaminating Maximus with his "sickness," afraid that his trauma and the supernatural experiences would somehow rub off on the boy.
The memory of their first encounter had been etched vividly in MC's mind. Maximus had approached him, with hand outstretched, a gesture of friendship utterly alien after months of isolation. "Hi, I'm Maximus. Who are you?" The simple question had seemed impossibly complex at the time.
MC would never forget sitting on that couch, staring at the offered hand as if it were a foreign object. He had no words; he hadn't spoken to anyone but his mom in so long that social interaction felt like a forgotten skill. Finally, what little strength he had, he grasped the kid's hand and shook it. "I'm MC," he had said, his voice rough from disuse.
That first interaction hung in the air like a pivotal moment, a stark reminder of how much had changed and how far MC had yet to go in dealing with his trauma. It was a tentative step back into the world of the living, even as Emma's ghost continued to haunt his nights
…
They lay there for a while longer, just to let that moment sink in. It had been brief but profound, an awakening in the life of MC, which really marked the beginnings of their difficult-to-describe relationship as stepbrothers.
"I'm glad you don't hate me," Maximus whispered, his voice barely heard yet audible to MC. The quiet subtleness of his tone spoke volumes about years of unsure feelings and tension unspoken.
"Never did, Max," MC responded softly, realizing how his own trauma had created a barrier between them. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air, years of misunderstandings slowly beginning to unravel.
They continued lying there, the gravity of their stalled investigation pressing down on them. No clues, no way forward, and Emma's murder remained an unsolved mystery. The room felt charged with a mix of frustration and determination.
MC couldn't help but wonder, "What am I going to do now?" It was a thought that plagued him daily, a question without an answer. The enormity of the task before them - solving a 5 years-old murder with limited resources - seemed almost insurmountable.
He realized how little he knew about Emma. Jake had mentioned something about a stalker, but it had seemed insignificant at the time. Now, identifying this "big bad" had become crucial. MC mentally kicked himself for not paying more attention, wondering how many other vital details he might have overlooked.
"Emma is dead, right?" Maximus began, breaking the silence. "That's one thing we know for sure." His voice was steady, grounding their speculation in the harsh reality of their situation.
MC didn't question Maximus's seemingly obvious statement. "Yeah," he replied, the single word heavy with unspoken grief and guilt.
"That means they never found her body, right?" Maximus continued, his mind working through the implications. "So people only know she's missing." The distinction was crucial - it opened up possibilities they hadn't considered before.
He sat up, as if the change in position might spark new ideas. "Shouldn't we just ask her friends for the password to her phone?" The simplicity of the suggestion belied its potential importance.
MC, about to zone out, snapped back to attention at Maximus's suggestion. He'd completely forgotten about Emma's three friends they'd recently learned about. Emma seemed close to them; surely she'd shared her phone password. The oversight made him realize how tunnel-visioned he'd become in his investigation.
"That's genius, Maximus!" MC jumped to his feet, a surge of energy coursing through him. "This is why I'm glad you're my brother!" The spontaneous display of affection surprised them both, a rare moment of connection.
Maximus's eyes gleamed as MC hugged him. They'd finally made a breakthrough, the excitement palpable in the room. For the first time in a long while, hope flickered in MC's chest.
"Quick, let's go!" MC was already at the door, adrenaline propelling him forward. "We don't have much time." The urgency in his voice reflected the weight of five years of unanswered questions.
Maximus was right behind him but suddenly called out, "Wait!" His voice cut through MC's enthusiasm like a knife.
"What?" MC stared at Maximus in question, frustration furrowed in his face. "We do not have a lot of time, you know." The ticking of the clock seemed to increase with every moment.
Maximus raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms against his chest as he eyed MC. "Do you even know where they live?"
MC came to an abrupt freeze, hitting him with the realization like a bucket of ice-cold water. It was a valid question for which he did not have an answer. The momentum of their breakthrough came to an abrupt halt.