Emily's POV --- I hate myself. My eyes flutter open, but the thought is already there, waiting. It never leaves, not since that moment when everything changed. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. The alarm shatters the silence, and my fist finds it in the dark. Dawn's still hours.. or minutes, away, but sleep has already abandoned me. I can't escape into dreams anymore. They're worse than being awake. Mom's voice carries up the stairs. "Emily? You'll be late for school!" I don't answer. I lie motionless, tracking the slow dance of light and shade overhead while my ribs strain against an invisible weight. Like I can't get enough air. THUD. That's my feet hitting the floor. Everything feels mechanical now. Get dressed. Brush teeth. Brush hair. Don't look too long in the mirror - I hate the person staring back at me these days. The cereal makes my stomach turn. Tap tap tap goes my spoon against the bowl, pushing the flakes around until they're soggy and gross. Just like me. "Honey?" M

*Tweet-tweet. Chirp-chirp-chirrrp.* *Rustle-shhh. Whisper-whoosh.* Birds. Trees. My brain identifies them before I've even fully opened my eyes. Wait. Where am I? A forest. Standing upright. Not lying down. Not sitting. Just... here. Ben's across from me, maybe ten feet away, looking as disoriented as I feel. I stare at my hands. Turn them over. Front. Back. "No marks. Nothing." My fingers trace my forearms. A compulsion. Searching for... what exactly? I don't know. My vision feels naked. Raw. Like I'm missing glasses I never wore. Ben adjusts his actual glasses. "You okay?" "Yeah... just checking." I squint. Hard. Like I'm trying to change the channel on a TV without a remote. Nothing shifts. "No blue screen. Nothing," I mutter. My thoughts bounce around like pinballs. I feel present but disconnected. Like waking from a dream you can't quite remember but still shapes your mood. Ben gestures toward a dirt path. "We should probably head that way." I follow his gaze. Far of

The flamingo makes one last desperate move—a vertical leap that no real bird could manage. It hangs in the air unnaturally, then starts to descend. My body moves on instinct. No thought. Just pure reaction. I launch myself upward, muscles coiling and releasing with a power I didn't know I had. Time slows down. In this stretched moment, I notice everything: the way sunlight breaks through leaves above us, casting dappled shadows that don't move quite right. The unnatural stillness of the air. The absence of forest sounds. The world holding its breath. My fingers close around its leg. The contact feels wrong—like grabbing smoke that somehow has weight. Cold. Neither solid nor liquid. Just... data. We crash to the ground together. Dirt and leaves explode outward from the impact. The flamingo's under me, thrashing, its movements stuttering like bad animation. My hand doesn't let go. Can't let go. "Got you!" My heart hammers against my ribs. Not from the chase. From the wrongness of w