Chapter Six – Anchored by a Friend

Alice barely remembered how she stumbled out of the woods, branches clawing at her arms, her lungs aching with every ragged breath. Her mind spun in fragments—eyes glowing in the dark, snarls that cut through the silence, Liam’s face shifting into something inhuman.

Her Liam.

The boy who smiled at her like she was the only girl in the room, who leaned too close when he teased her in class, who felt like a stolen secret she wanted to keep forever. But now he wasn’t just Liam anymore. He was one of them.

Her knees nearly buckled by the time she reached her street, and she pressed her palm against a fencepost, grounding herself against the spinning world.

“Alice?”

Her name shot through the fog in her head. She jerked her eyes up, panic surging—only to find Mira standing beneath the flickering glow of a streetlamp. Her books were clutched to her chest, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail, and her brows pinched together in worry.

“Oh my God—you’re pale. What happened?”

Alice opened her mouth, but no sound came. Her throat burned, her lips trembling as her heart galloped too fast for words to catch up.

Mira didn’t push. She just crossed the distance between them, slipping one arm around Alice’s shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered, steady and calm. “You don’t have to say anything. Just come with me.”

The floodgates broke. Tears welled up and spilled hot down Alice’s cheeks, silent at first, then shaking her shoulders with every breath. Mira pulled her close, hugging her tightly, her hand rubbing small circles against Alice’s back.

“Shh,” Mira whispered into her hair, her voice like velvet. “You’re safe with me.”

For the first time since the woods, Alice let herself believe it.

Mira’s room was nothing like Alice’s sterile, silver-laced home. It felt alive. Fairy lights dangled along the edges of the ceiling, their soft glow casting gentle shadows. Posters covered the walls, curling slightly at the corners. A candle burned faintly on the desk, sweet vanilla weaving warmth into the air.

Alice sat cross-legged on the bed, still shivering despite the blanket Mira had tucked around her shoulders. She felt like a broken doll—fractured, silent, unable to fit her pieces back together.

Mira placed a glass of water in her hands. “Drink. Slowly.”

Alice obeyed, the cool liquid grounding her in tiny sips. Mira didn’t hover. She sat down beside her, close enough that Alice could feel her presence, but not suffocating.

Finally, Mira spoke, her voice careful. “You don’t have to tell me everything. Just… don’t lock it all inside. That’ll eat you alive.”

Alice’s throat tightened. She shook her head, eyes dropping to her lap. “I—I can’t. You wouldn’t understand.”

Mira didn’t flinch. “Maybe. But maybe I’d surprise you.”

The steadiness in her tone cracked something in Alice. She blinked, fighting another wave of tears. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. Everything feels like a lie. And I feel like I’m… drowning.”

Her voice broke on the last word.

Mira didn’t look away. Instead, she leaned closer, wrapping the blanket tighter around Alice’s shoulders, as if she could shield her from the storm inside. “Then let me be the one person you don’t have to pretend with,” she said softly. “No judgment. No pressure. Just me and you.”

Alice let out a shaky breath, the dam in her chest breaking again. She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no either. For the first time in days, she didn’t feel like she was falling apart alone.

The house was quiet when Mira switched off the lamp, plunging the room into the soft, steady glow of fairy lights. They lay side by side on the bed, silence heavy but not uncomfortable.

Mira broke it first. Her voice was low, almost tentative. “You know… everyone thinks I have it all together. Perfect grades, perfect smile, perfect life.” She gave a hollow laugh. “But most nights I just feel… invisible. Like I could disappear and nobody at home would notice.”

Alice turned her head to face her. The honesty in Mira’s voice startled her. She had never imagined Mira—always so confident, so untouchable—carrying a weight like that.

Mira’s eyes flickered toward her. “I just wanted you to know you’re not the only one who feels out of place sometimes.”

Alice’s chest squeezed. Against her will, words tumbled out. “I saw something in the woods tonight. Something that shouldn’t exist. And I don’t know what to do.”

Her breath hitched. This was it—the moment Mira would laugh, dismiss her, call her crazy.

But Mira didn’t. She just reached across the small space and took Alice’s hand, warm and firm between the tremors of Alice’s fingers. “Whatever it is,” she whispered, “I won’t judge you. Ever.”

Relief broke over Alice so suddenly it left her breathless. Tears slid down her cheeks again, but this time they weren’t sharp—they were soft, cleansing. Mira’s thumb brushed one away, gentle and steady.

For the first time since the woods, Alice felt less like she was unraveling and more like she was being stitched back together.

Alice walked through them with her head down, avoiding Liam’s eyes when she spotted him by the lockers. His gaze burned like a brand even when she refused to look. Kane lingered further down the hall, his stare unreadable, sharp as a knife she didn’t know how to dodge.

Every corner felt like a trap. Every whisper sounded like her name.

But Mira was there.

When a teacher asked why Alice hadn’t turned in her homework, Mira cut in smoothly, inventing a believable excuse before Alice could even stumble through one. When the cafeteria filled with hushed voices and darting stares, Mira looped her arm through Alice’s and pulled her toward a quieter table, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Honestly,” Mira muttered loud enough for nearby ears, “people act like you murdered someone just because you look tired.”

Alice blinked at her, caught between shock and amusement.

“Smile,” Mira teased, nudging her. “Or people are gonna think I kidnapped you.”

Against all odds, Alice laughed. The sound was small, shaky, but it was real. And for a moment, it felt almost normal—like the walls Mira built around her really could hold the storm at bay.

That evening, as the sun melted into orange and purple streaks, Mira walked Alice home. Their steps fell into rhythm, the silence comfortable, the world quiet except for the crunch of gravel under their shoes.

Alice’s thoughts, however, were a roaring sea.

She couldn’t tell her father. Not yet, not until she understood what she had seen.

She couldn’t trust Kane, not with the shadows lingering in his eyes.

She couldn’t even face Liam, not when every memory of him was tangled with the nightmare of the woods.

But Mira? Mira was safe. Mira was steady. Mira was the one constant when everything else fractured.

At the gate of her house, Alice hesitated, staring at the door like it was a monster in its own right. Her chest tightened.

Mira bumped her shoulder gently. “I’ve got you,” she said softly. “Don’t forget that.”

Alice didn’t answer. She just leaned her head against Mira’s shoulder, closing her eyes. Mira’s hand rested on her back, warm, reassuring, unshakable.

In the chaos of her life, Mira was her anchor.

And Alice clung to her, not knowing how much it would one day cost her.