My phone rang. Mona. I couldn't bring myself to answer it. I let it ring, the shrill tone piercing the quiet room. Again, it rang. And again. By the seventh time, I could no longer ignore the feeling in my gut—something wasn't right.

With a deep breath, I picked it up.

"Hello?" My voice was shaky, betraying the calm I tried to maintain.

Mona's voice came through the line, calm yet unsettling, detached in a way that made my skin prickle. "Where are you?"

That question. Simple, direct, but loaded with something I couldn't quite place. My mind raced for a plausible answer.

"I'm at a friend's place," I lied, hoping she wouldn't press further.

There was silence on the other end, and for a moment, I thought she had hung up. I could feel my pulse in my throat, the weight of my own deception pressing down on me. I waited, straining to hear anything.

"I'll be waiting for you." Her voice was flat, devoid of warmth or concern. It was a statement, not an invitation, and it sent a shiver down my spine. Then the line went dead.

I stared at my phone for a long moment, trying to process the conversation. Something was wrong. I could feel it deep in my bones. Mona's voice wasn't just detached—it was empty, as if something had hollowed her out from the inside.

I sat back on the bed, the weight of the conversation pressing down on me like a suffocating fog. The dread gnawed at me, growing with every second. I should have gone back to the apartment, but I couldn't. Not yet. The thought of returning, of facing whatever was happening there, made my stomach twist with fear.

But as the hours passed, guilt slowly crept in, curling around me like smoke. How many times had I cursed Mona under my breath? Called her selfish, spoiled, too absorbed in her own world to care about anyone else? I had dismissed her odd behavior, the late nights, and the erratic mood swings as the habits of a party girl. I had judged her without ever really seeing her.

And now, it was clear. Something darker had been working on her, and I had been too blind to notice.

I closed my eyes, a wave of memories washing over me. The first time I met Mona, she had been like a force of nature—bright, vivacious, with a laugh that lit up the room. Everyone loved her. She had a way of drawing people in, making them feel like they were the center of the world, even if only for a moment. We had clicked instantly, becoming friends fast. Moving in together had felt like the perfect arrangement at the time. She had the kind of charisma that made you want to be around her.

But now, thinking back, I realized I had only ever seen the surface. Beneath the vibrant exterior, Mona had been hiding something. Something I had been too wrapped up in my own life to see.

I should have been there for her. I should have noticed the signs. The same thought kept gnawing at me. Lilian—Mona's mother—had given her life to protect her daughter. And now, in some twisted, terrifying way, I was a part of that legacy. Lilian had chosen me. As much as that thought terrified me, it ignited a spark of resolve deep inside.

I couldn't leave Mona to face this alone.

Returning to the apartment felt like walking straight into the jaws of a nightmare, but I had made up my mind. Whatever was happening—whatever had been haunting Mona—I had to confront it. For her. For Lilian. And maybe for myself.

I booked the cab, the pit of dread in my stomach growing heavier with every passing minute.

The drive back was quiet, unnervingly so. The cab driver glanced at me once in the rearview mirror, as if sensing my unease, but said nothing. Outside, the night was thick and heavy, the air damp with the promise of rain. By the time we reached the apartment building, the sky had darkened completely, and the streetlights flickered dimly, casting long, distorted shadows across the sidewalk.

I paid the driver and stepped out, my heart pounding in my chest. The building loomed ahead of me, the windows dark except for a faint glow coming from somewhere near the top. My apartment.

I hesitated at the front door, my hand on the key, trying to steady my nerves. The oppressive silence wrapped around me like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs. But I had come this far. There was no turning back now.

With a deep breath, I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The familiar scent of Mona's perfume hit me immediately. Sweet, with that slightly bitter undertone I had grown accustomed to. But there was something else—a heaviness in the air, an almost tangible weight that pressed down on my chest. The apartment was still, too still. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickling, as if I was being watched.

"Mona?" I called out, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

Nothing.

But then, I heard it—the faint clinking of glass from the kitchen. My pulse quickened. I made my way toward the sound, each step feeling heavier than the last.

She was there. Standing with her back to me, pouring herself a drink. The soft clinking of ice against glass was the only sound that broke the silence. For a moment, I just watched her, trying to read her body language. She seemed calm, but something about the way she stood—so rigid, so still—felt wrong.

"Hey," I finally said, stepping into the kitchen.

Mona turned to face me, a faint smile on her lips. But it didn't reach her eyes.

"You're back," she said, her voice smooth, casual, as if nothing had happened. As if the last few days hadn't been filled with an escalating sense of dread.

"Yeah," I replied, forcing a smile of my own. "I just needed some space. How have you been?"

She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "Good. Just the usual."

Her eyes locked onto mine, unblinking, as she studied me. There was something behind them—something dark, unreadable.

"But you... you seem different," she said, her voice soft but loaded with meaning.

My heart skipped a beat. "Different? How?"

She leaned against the counter, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I don't know. You're... tense. Like something's bothering you."

I let out a forced laugh, shaking my head. "It's just work. Long week."

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, and for a terrifying second, I thought she might call me out on the lie. But then she smiled, that same faint, distant smile. "You should relax. Let's do something fun tonight."

I exhaled slowly, my mind racing. Fun? With everything that was happening? But I had to play along. "Actually, I was thinking the same thing," I said, matching her tone. "Maybe we could invite some friends over. Have a little party?"

Her smile widened, genuine this time. "Now you're talking! I'll make some calls."

As she pulled out her phone, I felt a pang of guilt. I was lying to her, keeping secrets, but it was for her own good. I couldn't let her know what I had discovered. Not yet.

I slipped out of the kitchen, making my way back to my room. The plan was risky, but I had to keep her distracted. Mona thrived on parties, on the buzz of life around her. Maybe if I could surround her with friends, with noise and energy, it would keep the darkness at bay. It wasn't a solution, but it might buy us time.

I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop, the soft glow of the screen casting eerie shadows on the walls. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I began searching through social media, digging into Mona's past. School friends, old classmates, former teachers—anyone who might have a clue about what was happening to her.

There were posts. Pictures. Smiling faces frozen in time, memories of school days long past. But nothing seemed to fit. I kept scrolling, growing more frustrated by the minute.

Then I found it—a post from an old classmate named Sarah. She had been in the same class as Mona and had written about their old apartment. How the other kids had avoided it, saying it was haunted. How Mona had always seemed distant, even back then, her smile never quite reaching her eyes.

I kept scrolling, each new piece of information adding to the growing sense of unease. Old yearbook photos, fragmented memories, posts from former friends who barely mentioned Mona anymore. It was like she had faded from their lives, just as she was fading now.

A knock at the door startled me, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced at the clock—nearly midnight.

Mona appeared in the doorway, her playful smile back in place. "Everyone's here! Come on, it's time to have some fun."

I nodded, closing my laptop and forcing a smile. "I'll be right there."

As I followed her into the living room, the sound of laughter and conversation filled the apartment. But even as I tried to lose myself in the noise, my mind kept drifting back to the journal, to the articles, to the photo of Lillian standing at the edge of that cliff.

Whatever had taken her was coming for Mona. And I was running out of time to stop it.