The bell shrieked through the corridor like a warning high, hollow, and cold.

Students filtered into Room 14, dragging their feet, their chatter clipped and nervous.

The air felt wrong. Like something was rotting just beneath the surface.

Mavis’s desk remained untouched. Still by the window. Still empty.

No books. No laughter. No trace. Just the hollow space of a girl no one dared mention.

At the front, Mrs. Luminari stood motionless, chalk in hand. She wasn’t looking at the board she was looking at the space where Mavis used to sit.

Four days.

Not a single call. Not a single word.

She finally spoke, but her voice lacked its usual authority ... softer, almost distant.

“Turn to page seventy-two...”

Even the pages turning sounded muted.

By the second period, she had had enough.

Mrs. Luminari walked straight out of the classroom and headed to the admin block, her heels striking the floor with clipped precision. She didn’t bother knocking she pushed open the door to the Administrator’s Office.

Mrs. Thompson, the head administrator, sat at her desk reviewing some forms. Across the room, Mrs. Brooks, the school secretary, was sipping lukewarm tea and filing her nails.

“We need to talk about Mavis Valtor,” Mrs. Luminari said, her voice sharp now.

Mrs. Thompson barely looked up. “We’ve marked her absent, yes. It’s being logged.”

“It’s the fourth day,” Luminari cut in. “That girl has never missed school like this not once. There’s been no communication. No explanation. And no effort from this office to ask why.”

Mrs. Brooks gave a tired sigh, setting her teacup down.

“Maybe she ran off. Girls do that.”

Luminari’s hands clenched at her sides.

“No. Mavis doesn’t just run off. She showed up rain or shine. Do her bruises mean nothing to anyone? Did no one see her?”

Mrs. Thompson’s brow twitched. “Now hold on. We don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Then perhaps you’ll forgive me for doing something you won’t,” Luminari snapped.

“Because if something’s happened to that girl, and this school stays silent, we’re complicit.”

Neither woman responded.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out — not waiting for permission, not waiting for approval. She’d wasted enough time already.

The corridors of Blackwood High hummed with the usual noise — lockers slamming, heels clicking, laughter echoing off the walls. But to Sasha, everything sounded distant. Blurred. Like she was underwater.

She moved slower than usual, clutching her books tighter than necessary. Her eyes refused to meet the others’. Every time someone mentioned Mavis even in passing her stomach twisted.

She saw her again in her mind:

Mavis, curled up in the stairwell, trembling.

The rain. The blood.

Her silence.

They hadn’t touched her. But they’d left her there. And that, somehow, felt worse.

In the mirror above the sink in the girl’s bathroom, Sasha stared at her own reflection pale, sweaty, uncertain. Her mascara smudged slightly beneath one eye. She didn’t fix it.

What if she’s gone because of us?

The thought wouldn’t leave.

The door creaked open behind her. She turned — and there they were.

Ruby leaned against the wall, arms folded, chewing gum slowly.

Ravenna stepped in behind, closing the door with a soft click.

“You look like hell,” Ruby said, smirking.

“That conscience finally kicking in?”

Sasha swallowed hard. “I didn’t.... we didn’t... we didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly,” Ravenna replied flatly. “We didn’t do anything. And that’s how it’s going to stay.”

Sasha’s eyes widened. “I just— maybe we should tell someone. Just about that day in the stairwell. We didn’t know she was hurt that bad—”

Ruby’s hand slammed into the wall beside Sasha’s head, her smile gone.

“You say one word, and I’ll make sure you regret it. Understand?”

Sasha flinched.

“You think anyone will believe you? You think they’ll care? She’s gone. That’s it. You’re not about to get all holy on us now.”

Ravenna’s voice was colder than usual. “We walk. We smile. We say nothing. If anyone asks, we don’t remember anything. That’s how this works.”

For a moment, no one moved.

Sasha nodded slowly, blinking back tears.

“Good,” Ruby whispered. “Now fix your face.”

They left just as silently as they came.

The door swung slowly behind them, creaking on its hinges like a warning.

Sasha didn’t move for a long time.

The sun had barely risen above Maple Hollow, casting long shadows over the quiet neighborhood. The morning was crisp, but Nana stood at her window wrapped in her shawl, unmoving.

Mittens, sat curled at her feet, staring in the same direction she did toward the path Mavis used to walk every morning.

It had been four days.

Four days without the soft knock on her door.

Four days without that quiet voice asking if she needed anything.

Four days of silence and she was done waiting.

She stepped back from the window, moved to the table, and carefully folded a small square of paper the note she had scribbled Mavis’s name on, with dates and times and everything she remembered.

Then she put on her best coat the navy one with the pearl buttons and tucked the paper inside her sleeve.

The Ashenbrook Constabulary sat near the old town square, between a faded bakery and a tax office that hadn’t opened on time in years. It was a squat brick building with flaking paint and dusty windows a place meant to promise order, yet gave off nothing but neglect.

But Nana walked straight in.

The man at the front desk looked up, clearly not expecting anyone so early. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, flipping through a dull stack of paperwork.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

Nana’s voice was steady. “Yes. I need to report a missing girl. Her name is Mavis Valtor.”

The officer blinked. “Family?”

“No,” Nana said firmly. “A neighbor. And someone I knew better than most.”

He hesitated, then reached for a form. “When was she last seen?”

“Four days ago. She left early morning like always and never came back. That girl doesn't miss a day. Doesn’t just vanish. And I don’t believe for a second she ran away.”

The officer glanced over the form. “We haven’t gotten any other reports.”

Nana’s stare cut through him.

“Then you write mine down. Because something’s wrong. And if you wait too long, you’ll be taking statements for a funeral instead of a search.”

He scribbled her words down slowly.

Nana turned and walked out without another word.

Back outside, the morning fog was beginning to lift.

She pulled her shawl tighter, her steps calm but inside her chest, something old and fierce had woken up.

Whatever had happened to Mavis, Nana wasn’t going to let it be forgotten.