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The first image was a screenshot of a text message. Between Lena and… Mia’s older brother, Jake. The words blurred as Mia’s eyes locked on a single sentence: “She doesn’t need to know about the party. Just keep her distracted.”

The forum post vanished by morning.

She heard a soft click from inside.

The page flickered.

Mia’s heart hammered. It can’t be that easy, she thought. But she followed each step. Her fingers trembled over the trackpad. Delete.

Mia scrolled faster. A photo of her own bedroom window, taken from the backyard. A checklist: “9 PM – lights off. 10 PM – alarm test. 11 PM – garage code 1984.”

And then the doorbell rang. Mia never found out who—or what—was in the closet that night. Because she didn’t open it. She ran downstairs, out the front door, and didn’t stop until she reached the lit gas station three blocks away.

But something was wrong.