I never liked birthdays. Too many people, too much talking, too much pretending to be happy. But Michael wanted me here. And that was the only reason I agreed.
The trees of Blackswood Thorn Forest towered over us like dark walls as we walked deeper in, our backpacks bouncing with every step. The sun was lowering behind the branches, slicing the sky into orange strips.
Michael was bouncing ahead with that stupid excited smile of his.
"Seventeenth birthday in the coolest forest ever!" he announced, spinning around and nearly tripping over a rock. "This is gonna be amazing!"
"Or the reason we all die," Beth added, kicking the same rock away. She grinned. "Either way, it's memorable."
Amy snorted. "It's a marked trail, Beth. Relax."
I stayed quiet. I didn't trust forests. They always felt… too alive. Michael jogged back toward me, breathless.
"Matt, you okay?" he asked softly.
His pink contacts sparkled in the fading light. I looked away before I stared too long.
"Fine," I muttered.
He smiled like he could see right through my grumpiness — because he probably could.
We reached a little open area — a perfect camping spot. Michael clapped his hands together.
"Alright! Fire!" he announced like a general leading a mission.
Amy handled the tent, efficient as always. Beth unpacked junk food and glow sticks like we were attending a rave, not camping. I crouched by Michael to help him with the firewood.
It took a few tries, but the flames finally burst to life, lighting up everyone's faces with warm gold. The forest around us stayed quiet. Too quiet.
"Spooky silence," Beth whispered, wiggling her fingers like a bad horror actor.
Michael nudged my shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll protect you from scary branches."
I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks warmed anyway. "Shut up."
As the fire crackled, Amy handed Michael a small cupcake. Seventeen candles. Tiny glowing lights against the dark.
"Make a wish, birthday boy," she said, ruffling his pink hair.
Michael closed his eyes. His eyelashes fluttered. I wondered what he wished for.
Probably something stupid like infinite cake.
He blew the candles out — and for a moment, darkness swallowed the campsite. The forest air felt heavier. Colder even.
Then Beth punched his arm. "Presents time!"
Michael cheered like a kid as Amy opened her backpack.
"I got you something you'll actually use," she said, handing him a sleek pocket flashlight. "High-powered. Don't lose it."
Beth shoved a wrapped box at him. Inside was a bright pink beanie covered in glitter stars.
"You are wearing it," she ordered.
Michael laughed so hard he nearly fell into the fire.
I handed him something small — a simple braided bracelet with grey and pink threads. Something I made secretly last week.
"Oh…" Michael stared, surprised.
Then he slipped it on immediately. "I love it, Matt. Really."
His voice cracked at the end.
I looked away so he wouldn't see I was smiling.
Night came too fast.
The fire looked tiny against the black trees. The sky was gone — just darkness and leaves.
We roasted marshmallows. Beth told dramatic ghost stories that weren't scary. Michael kept scooting closer to me every time the fire popped.
I pretended I didn't notice. But I noticed.
At some point, Amy stood up and brushed dirt off her jeans.
"Gonna grab more firewood," she announced. "Be right back."
Beth saluted her with a marshmallow stick. "Don't get possessed."
Amy rolled her eyes and disappeared into the trees.
Minutes passed. Then more minutes.
Michael kept glancing toward the dark.
"She's taking a while," he said.
"She'll be fine," I replied automatically.
But something gnawed in my stomach.
An old fear. A memory of losing someone I loved.
I stood up. "I'll go check—"
A branch cracked sharply behind us. We all jumped.
"Amy?" Michael called out.
No answer.
Beth grabbed the flashlight. "Where the hell did she go? She was right there."
The fire flickered violently. Wind whipped through the clearing — sharp, biting cold.
Amy should've come running back. She hated the cold.
Michael's fingers brushed mine. He was shaking.
"Matt…" he whispered. "This isn't funny."
We spread out, calling Amy's name.
Our voices echoed like the trees were mocking us.
"Amy!"
"Amy!"
"Where are you?!"
More silence.
Just our footsteps and the crunching leaves.
Suddenly, Beth screamed. We sprinted to her. She stood frozen, pointing.
A teddy bear sat upright on the ground.
Right where Amy had gone.
Dirty and old. Its fur was dark brown, soaked with moss. Two perfectly round white glass eyes stared at us.
"H-has that been there?" Beth asked, voice wobbling.
Michael slowly reached for it. "Don't touch it," I snapped, grabbing his wrist.
"But— but Amy—"
"She wouldn't leave a toy," I said. "She wouldn't leave us."
He pulled his hand away, swallowing hard.
The teddy's head suddenly tilted a fraction toward me. I stepped back fast, heart hammering.
Beth shined the flashlight at it. Its white eyes glinted like tiny moons.
"Stop staring," she muttered, closing her jacket around herself.
Michael crouched. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"She was just here," he whispered. "She was right here."
I didn't know how to comfort him.
I never know the right words.
But I put my hand on his shoulder.
"We'll find her," I said. "We're not leaving without her."
He leaned into me, quietly sobbing.
The forest rustled.
A cold hush fell over everything.
Then I heard it.
A voice.
Soft.
Far away.
"Michael…"
Michael jerked upright. "Amy?!"
We spun toward the sound — deeper into the trees.
"Michael…"
Same voice.
Same tone.
But wrong.
Too slow.
Too calm.
Like someone wearing Amy's voice as a mask.
Beth took a step back. "Nope. Nope. I hate that. We are not going toward that."
But Michael was already moving.
"Wait!" I grabbed him. "We can't split up!"
"But it's Amy!"
"It's not," I said. "Not anymore."
His lower lip trembled. He looked like a scared child trying to be brave.
The teddy bear's head tilted again.
More.
Impossible.
Its stitched smile stretched too wide.
We all scrambled away from it.
We ran back to the campfire.
Michael clutched my hoodie sleeve like a lifeline.
"We need to leave," Beth said quickly. "Right now. Screw this forest."
Amy was gone for twenty minutes.
She'd never leave us like that.
"Pack everything," I ordered.
Beth nodded, shaking.
Michael didn't move.
He stared at the trees.
At the darkness that stole his sister.
"I made a wish," he said softly.
I turned toward him.
"What?"
"When I blew the candles."
His voice was almost a whisper.
"I wished the night would never end."
His shoulders shook. More tears.
I opened my mouth to say something — anything — but the wind howled through the trees again and cut me off.
The forest seemed to lean closer around us.
Watching.
Listening.
Something shifted behind me.
Like a tall shape made of shadows.
Two white eyes floating in the dark.
Staring.
I froze.
My throat closed.
Then—
It vanished.
Like it melted into the night.
Beth zipped her backpack violently. "Okay. I'm leaving. Even if I have to drag you all—"
The flashlight flickered.
The fire sputtered low.
Everything dimmed at once.
Black swallowed us whole.
I grabbed Michael's hand without thinking.
He squeezed back, terrified.
"W-We need more light," he stuttered.
My voice shook. "Amy!"
I yelled even though I knew it was pointless.
Only the teddy answered — a faint rustle as it shifted again somewhere behind us.
Michael trembled. "Matt… what's happening?"
I didn't have an answer.
All I knew was that...
We were not celebrating a birthday anymore.
We were trapped.