Goodluck_Subarashi

Rose is drowning—in the noise of her own mind, the weight of existence, and the gnawing void that depression carves into her. Every day feels like a fraying tape loop: wake up, dissociate, repeat. But then, the cracks start spreading.  

Her heart stutters like a broken clock. Her thoughts twist into riddles—Why does the air feel alive? Who’s laughing in the static of silence? Reality warps at the edges, and she can’t tell if it’s madness or some grotesque awakening. Late-night spirals drag her into questions she can’t unask: Is God just the name we give to the gaping dark? Or is the dark staring back? 

As her grip on the "real world" slips, Rose claws for meaning in the chaos. But the deeper she digs, the more the universe feels like a locked room—and something’s pounding on the door.

SEPARATE WORLDS

Rose's fingers hovered over her phone screen, the word "Soon" burning into her retinas like a brand.

What did that even mean?

Was it a promise? A taunt? Some sick cosmic joke?

She tossed her phone onto the bed, rubbing her temples. The ceiling fan continued its slow, endless rotations, the shadows stretching and warping like the thoughts in her head.

She should block the number. Delete the messages. Pretend this never happened.

Because for the first time in months, someone had seen her.

The message—"She needs you."—played on a loop in his mind. He didn't even know who she was. And yet, the words had settled into his bones like they belonged there.

He rolled onto his side, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up, casting a pale glow across his face.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

Who the hell sends a message like that and then disappears?

His thumb swiped across the screen, pulling up his call log. No unknown numbers. No missed calls. Nothing.

But the message had been real. He hadn't imagined it.

She flinched, half-expecting another cryptic text. But it was just Daniel.

Daniel: You can't ignore me forever.

But part of her—the stupid, hopeful part—still wanted to believe he'd change. That he'd wake up one day and love her the way she needed.

Rose: I'm not ignoring you. I'm done.

The words sent a sharp pang through her chest.

Daniel: You don't mean that.

Of course he'd say that. Of course he'd assume she'd cave. Because she always did.

Daniel: We need to talk. Face to face.

If she saw him, she'd fold. She'd let him pull her back in, let him smooth over the cracks with empty words and hollow promises.

Rose: There's nothing left to say.

She turned her phone off before he could reply.

His pulse spiked as he opened it.

Unknown: Find her.

He stared at the words, his mind racing.

Ethan: Who are you?

Ethan: What do you want?

Ethan: This isn't funny.

He gritted his teeth, frustration simmering beneath his skin.

A girl with dark hair and tired eyes, sitting on a dorm bed, staring at a ceiling fan like it held the answers to the universe.

Her name came to him in a whisper, as if he'd always known it.

And beneath the photo, one final message:

Unknown: Before it's too late.

And the sinking feeling that something was coming.

Something neither of them could stop.

THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE