Emily hadn't slept.
Her grandmother's words clung to her skull like cracks in glass: The seal was never meant to be broken.
The diary sat on her desk, silent, but she felt it even in the dark. Waiting. Watching. The faint memory of its laugh curled through her chest. And though terror knotted her stomach, another part of her — the part she didn't want to admit existed — had laughed with it.
By morning, her face in the mirror looked older. Dark rings bruised her eyes. She brushed her hair and didn't recognize the girl staring back.
Half of her was still afraid.
The other half was… hungry.
At school, her mind wandered. The chalk squealed across the board. Lily passed her a folded note, smiling in her easy, sunlit way. For a moment, Emily almost felt normal. Almost.
Then it hit her.
The classroom blurred. Her vision yanked sideways, dragging her to the west wing of the school. Scaffolding loomed against the brick, trembling under the wind. Lily walked beneath it, backpack slung casually over one shoulder.
The metal frame shuddered, groaned—then collapsed.
Emily saw Lily crushed, ribs snapping like sticks, blood streaming across the concrete. Her scream was silenced by the weight.
Emily's hand shot to her mouth. She blinked hard, gasping—
And the vision was gone.
Lily still sat in her seat, pen tapping against her notebook, alive and laughing.
Emily's heart hammered. Her visions weren't just fragments anymore. They were sharper, longer. More real. The diary wasn't only feeding—it was showing her the future. Or worse, tempting her to make it real.
Across town, Detective Reynolds sat hunched in his office, the glow of his monitor carving lines into his face. He scrolled through files, his pen tapping against the desk.
The Carter family's name had surfaced again and again—buried in reports of accidents, fires, suicides. Too many to ignore.
Then one file froze him.
Nathan Hale Carter. Missing.
Filed ten years ago.
Reynolds leaned closer. The report read:
"Nathan was driving drunk when his car skidded off the bridge into Lake Crest. Vehicle recovered. Body never found. Case presumed drowning."
The notes added: "Witnesses reported Nathan seemed furious the night before. Agitated. Slamming glasses in the bar. Reason unknown."
Reynolds frowned. No body. No closure. A furious man gone overnight.
He sat back slowly, suspicion gnawing at him. The Carters weren't unlucky. They were hiding something. And he was going to drag it into the light.
That evening, Emily returned home to find her grandmother slumped in the armchair.
"Grandma!" she cried, rushing forward.
The old woman stirred, her skin pale, her eyes dim. She gripped Emily's wrist with startling strength. "It drains us all," she rasped. "Everyone tied to it. I… I don't have much time left. Emily, you must—"
Her voice cut off. Her eyes rolled back.
"Mom! Dad!" Emily screamed, panic ripping through her chest. Her parents rushed in, lifting the frail body, calling her name.
Emily stood frozen, the sound of her grandmother's unfinished words hammering in her skull.
That night, she woke with a start.
Breathing. Slow. Steady. Not hers.
Her eyes darted across the room. And there—in the corner, where the shadows thickened—stood a figure.
Tall. Still. Its grin stretched impossibly wide, teeth gleaming faintly in the dark.
Her throat locked.
And then it spoke.
"Write… or I will."
The voice was low, ragged—familiar. Not some alien hiss, but human. Almost like someone she knew.
Emily blinked and the corner was empty. But the diary on her desk pulsed faintly, its leather glowing like embers under the skin of the night.
The next day, she saw Lily leaving school, sunlight catching her hair. Workers stacked scaffolding poles by the west wing, metal clanging.
Emily's chest constricted. The vision clawed back into her mind.
"Lily!" she screamed, sprinting.
Lily turned, startled, as Emily barreled into her and yanked her back. At that exact moment, the scaffolding gave way.
It crashed to the pavement, a thunderous roar of twisting steel and dust. Exactly where Lily had stood.
Lily's face was white. "Oh my god—Emily, you saved me!" She clung to her, trembling.
Emily's heart thundered. Relief—sharp, raw—poured through her. She had beaten it. She had won.
Until she saw the worker.
Pinned under the wreckage, blood soaking through his uniform. His arm twitched once, then went still.
Emily's hands shook as she unzipped her backpack. The diary was already open. Fresh ink scrawled across the page:
"Debt cannot be denied. Another must pay."
Her stomach heaved. She dropped the book, bile burning her throat.
And then the laughter came.
Not just from the diary. Not just from the shadows.
From inside her head.
It was laughing with her.
Fade to black.