I was just a stupid kid who thought he hung the moon.
I thought he cared about me.
And now, I just felt tired.
I picked up the pen and wrote my name.
Persephone Harrin
Persephone Quinn
Seph
I dropped the pen and rubbed my eyes.
I heard a clatter.
The pen lifted again, as if by the air itself. And slowly—like it was guided by the hands of a child—the pen formed a scraggly letterE.
I sat back, breathing hard.
“Hello?” I whispered.
But the pen remained still.
I wasn’t scared, which was odd.
Instead, I felt… warm.
Like a soft breath against my cheek, like a mother saying goodnight.
I closed my eyes and let it wash over me.
“Can you talk to me?” I asked again.
The pen twitched—
—but before it could answer, a scream tore through the night.
Jess.
I launched to my feet and sprinted into her room.
Jess was writhing on her bed, her body jerking like something inside her was trying to tear its way out. She moaned, cried—guttural, raw—and the sheets beneath her were beginning to smoke.
“Fuck.”
My gloves were off.
I grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around my hands as I shook her.
“Jess! You’re okay, it’s not real—Jess, wake up!”
A small flame erupted under her shoulder.
Then another.
And then fire crawled up her skin like living veins of orange and gold.
