I Found You

The alarm goes off.

I turn it off without thinking. I don’t remember setting it.

I stare at the ceiling for a few seconds too long. I don’t feel exhausted, but I don’t feel rested either. It’s as if my body slept, but my mind didn’t.

I sit up slowly. The visceral cold is gone, but it feels like it left a mark. An echo. Every movement feels slightly out of sync, like everything moves half a second before I do.

In the bathroom, I check my reflection. My lip has closed, and the bruises don’t stand out anymore—but they’re still there if you know where to look. Nothing a bit of concealer can’t hide. I apply foundation carefully, burying the evidence under a layer of normalcy.

One last check before leaving. Classes run until mid-afternoon today.

“Keys, laptop, tablet, pencil, headphones, wallet…” I list mentally. “Emergency makeup, tissues, sanitizer, stun gun.”

Carmen gave it to me a long time ago “just in case.” I never thought I’d need it. It had been collecting dust in a drawer in my desk for months.

Until now.

With everything packed, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and leave the apartment.

Like every morning, I stop by the residence café for coffee. I order my usual—but this time it tastes like nothing. Or like ash. I add more sugar. It doesn’t help, but I pretend it does.

“Did you hear about the infirmary?” someone says behind me.

I’m not listening—but I hear it anyway.

“They say she quit,” another voice replies. “Left without warning. Literally disappeared.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Two days without a trace. They still haven’t found a replacement.”

I freeze with the coffee in my hand. It trembles slightly. I set it down before it’s noticeable.

Disappeared without a trace.

My mind goes back to that unnatural crunch of bones I remember far too clearly.

I arrive a few minutes early to my first class. A few classmates are already there, but there’s no sign of Carmen or Gabriel yet. I sit near the back, away from the noise. Today, silence doesn’t bother me—being close to too many people does.

Instinctively, I check that the stun gun is still in my backpack. It is.

That’s when I see Carmen arrive with Gabriel, carrying a fairly large box. I raise my hand so they’ll see me, and they walk over.

“Elena!” Carmen says, excited. “The posters arrived!”

I grab my head. I’d completely forgotten.

Gabriel opens the box, revealing stacks of posters for our podcast. There’s a photo of Carmen and me posing like a bargain-bin news duo, and a microphone illustration pulled straight from the internet—very obviously uncredited.

I can’t help but laugh.

Gabriel, however, seems more observant than I gave him credit for. I feel him studying me.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning in slightly to see my face. I look away without meaning to. “You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just… a bit tired.”

Carmen watches me a second longer than necessary, but doesn’t push it. She pulls a few posters from the box and changes the subject immediately.

“We look great, don’t you think?” she says, handing one to me.

I look at myself on the poster. Wide smile. Confident.

What would she think of me now—nerves on edge, a stun gun in my backpack?

I look away before it shows.

“Are we putting them up today?” I ask.

“At noon, before lunch,” Carmen replies. “And I convinced Gabriel to hand some out at the café.”

“No problem,” Gabriel says. “But in return, I need you on my podcast on Friday. I’m recording a horror story. I need female voices.”

Silence.

I don’t look at him. Carmen hesitates.

“Gabriel,” she says carefully, “maybe this isn’t the best time—”

“I’ll think about it,” I say quickly.

The professor walks in, and the conversation dies on its own.

As I take out my things, I notice something strange near the professor. Something like a second shadow.

I start to feel cold again.

“Air conditioning?” I think. “It’s always strong in this building. I bring everything except a jacket…”

I don’t convince myself.

Classes pass relatively calmly—aside from the sudden chills and misplaced shadows. I could swear one of them moved when it shouldn’t have, but no one else seems to notice. I try not to dwell on it.

We take a break from posting flyers around campus to grab lunch. And whoever says eating pasta two days in a row is bad is wrong—it’s the most comforting thing I have right now.

The coffee was tasteless, but at least the parma rosa still tastes right. Especially in good company.

The calm doesn’t last.

Sometimes I feel something watching me. The same sensation I had before climbing that hill. Two streetlights, staring straight at me.

Carmen notices my silence—and chooses the worst possible topic.

“Did you hear about the nurse?” she asks.

I almost choke on my ravioli.

“I heard some people mention it at the café,” I say, catching my breath. “She quit and left?”

“Seems like it. No warning. She didn’t show up yesterday, and in the afternoon a resignation letter arrived. That’s it.”

“How strange…” I say, taking a sip of water.

The last time I saw her, she was collapsing on the floor.

I swallow.

“Gabriel’s already working his contacts,” Carmen continues. “He thinks it’s not normal. The nurse had only started a few weeks ago.”

“Well, maybe she had an emergency.”

“That’s what I said—but you know him. Stubborn. He’s even organizing a trip to the south hill with some of his listeners.”

“He’s going to be disappointed when all he sees is Lorcan watching soccer.”

Carmen smiles knowingly.

“Right, your ‘entity,’” she says. “You never told me what he looked like. At least tell me—was he hot?”

“I was more focused on the pain, Carmen… but yes. Nine and a half.”

“With your standards, that’s ridiculously attractive.”

“Exactly what I thought.”

“And are you going back to the hill to see him? I’ll tell Gabriel to save you a spot.”

I stay quiet for a moment.

Lorcan is a bad memory from that night. And if this discomfort I’ve felt since then is real—then he’s part of it.

I want to see him.

I also really don’t.

“For now,” I say, “I’m avoiding hills.”

“Fair enough. Anyway—back to posting flyers?”

I nod. Lunch is over.

We spend the next two hours covering hallways and buildings.

We place the last poster near my residence. Carmen stretches and sighs, satisfied.

“If this doesn’t bring listeners, nothing will,” she says.

I’m exhausted. From the walking—and from feeling watched the entire time.

Even now.

Two streetlights, fixed on me. Studying me.

But… I’ve felt that presence before.

I take the chance to excuse myself.

“Carmen, if we’re done, I’m going back to my apartment to rest.”

“Of course. Get some rest. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

I make it back without incident and collapse onto my bed.

I’m tired. Done. I can’t take much more.

Is this presence following me Lorcan?

I’m scared—but if it is him, I’d rather face him once than feel that nameless cold again.

Just as I’m about to fall asleep, someone knocks on the door.

I sit up abruptly.

“Carmen?” I call. “Is that you?”

No answer. The knocking continues. My palms turn cold with sweat.

Without thinking, I pull the stun gun from my backpack and move toward the door. I curse the day I decided not to install a peephole.

I take three deep breaths and fling the door open.

“Lorcan?!”

“Hi, Elena, I f—”

FZZZZZZZZT

It’s instinct. Fear, pent-up anger, and a morbid kind of curiosity exploding at once.

I press the stun gun against Lorcan’s jugular. The sound is awful—raw electric crackling.

He doesn’t flinch. He just clenches his jaw. A slight twitch in his cheek. That’s it.

With infuriating calm, he takes my wrist and moves the device away from his neck.

“Well,” he says, exhaling a sigh that sounds more annoyed than hurt. “I suppose you’ve gotten that out of your system. Perfectly valid, given the circumstances. But we still need to talk.”

I stare at the useless stun gun in my hand.

I don’t know where to begin.

“How did you find me?” I finally ask.

He pulls a poster from his pocket.

It’s one of ours.

“It wasn’t that hard,” he says, “once I had your name and your face.”