Chapter 6: The Wraith’s Hunger

I pretended to be calm, casually answering her, but inside I was worrying if something would happen.

I forced a smile, my voice steady. “Yeah, it’s been a while.” My heart hammered in my chest.

“Your necklace is so pretty.” As she spoke, she reached out, her slender fingers stopping on my necklace, touching my skin—cold and clammy.

Her nails scraped lightly against my collarbone. I flinched, pulling away.

I took a step back, mumbled a goodbye, and left in a hurry.

I didn’t look back. I walked fast, heart pounding, not stopping until I reached my car.

I couldn’t shake it.

Maybe I was just paranoid, or maybe I really had been targeted.

These days in class, I always felt like something was watching me. Every time I turned around, there was nothing.

I sat in the back row, glancing over my shoulder every few minutes. My friends started to notice, but I brushed it off.

I suddenly remembered that during the time I shared a body with Zoe, she often had this feeling too.

The memory hit me hard—her constant paranoia, the way she flinched at every shadow.

Too long.

There was another strange thing. Although my mom was busy with work, she called me every week to check in. But it had been a long time since our last call.

Usually, she’d text me little reminders—eat your veggies, don’t stay up late. Now, nothing.

She tried. She really did.

She’d missed a lot of recitals and parent-teacher nights, but she always made it up with extra hugs and late-night talks.

But this time, when I called her, she was unexpectedly cold.

Her voice was flat, distant. She sounded like she was talking to a stranger.

Later, she asked me out for dinner, saying she had something important to tell me.

I was nervous, but also a little hopeful. Maybe she’d explain everything, make it all better.

Of course, I was happy—I hadn’t seen my mom for a long time.

I picked out my favorite dress, did my hair, and arrived early. I waited at the restaurant, checking my phone every few seconds.

But on the actual day, I couldn’t be happy at all.

This can’t be happening.

The moment I saw Autumn sitting next to my mom, my stomach dropped. Something was very, very wrong.

She brought Autumn with her. Why did they have any connection?

Autumn smiled, sliding into the booth beside my mom like she belonged there. My mom beamed at her, pride shining in her eyes.

She also told me she had been sponsoring Autumn’s schooling, and now wanted to make her her goddaughter.

The words barely registered. My mind reeled. My mom had never mentioned this before.

This completely overturned my understanding. The first thing I did after returning home was check the electronic sponsorship list.

I logged onto her laptop, scrolling through spreadsheets and emails, searching for Autumn’s name.

Maple Heights, Ridge County—she had only sponsored students from a few towns in Ridge County.

She cross-checked every list, every name. Autumn’s wasn’t there. She shouldn’t be here.

But Autumn wasn’t even from Maple Heights, and I couldn’t find her information on the sponsorship list.

I scoured every record, every file. Nothing. It was like Autumn had never existed.

I hinted to my mom with the list, and unexpectedly, she quickly found Autumn’s name on it.

She pointed, confident. “There she is, right there.” But the spot she indicated was blank. Nothing. Just blank.

I looked at where she was pointing. It was clearly a blank space.

I blinked, rubbing my eyes. Still nothing. My mom just smiled, oblivious.

I wanted to tell her, but there was a voice inside me saying the same thing.

A cold, flat voice whispered in my head: “It’s useless. Don’t bother explaining. It’s just like what happened with Peanut.” I hated that voice.

“It’s useless. Don’t bother explaining. It’s just like what happened with Peanut.”

The words echoed, making my skin crawl. I pressed my hands to my ears, trying to block them out.

I felt I had to confront Autumn directly and get to the bottom of things.

I texted her, asking to meet. My hands shook as I hit send.

Autumn came to the meeting radiating a flawless aura. I was almost forgetting what she used to be like.

She glided into the coffee shop, every eye drawn to her. She looked untouchable, perfect. Unreal.

I heard she’d recently started a small animal rescue shelter at school.

Everyone was talking about it—how generous she was, how much she cared. Her Instagram was full of photos with puppies and kittens.

She’d won awards, landed on the Dean’s List, even got invited to speak at campus events. Everyone adored her. It made me sick.

“What do you want from my family?” I cut straight to the point.

My voice was sharp, trembling with anger. I refused to play her games.

She just smiled, all sly and witchy.

Her lips curled up, eyes glinting with something dark. She leaned in, her perfume cloying.

“Your family? Soon it won’t be.”

Her words were soft, but they hit like a slap. I felt a chill settle in my bones.

A warning bell went off in my mind. I pressed her for what she meant.

I leaned forward, voice low. “What are you planning? What did you do to my mom?”

She ignored me, casually licked her bright lips, looking both dangerous and alluring.

Her tongue darted out, slow and deliberate. She looked me up and down, as if sizing me up for something.

“Think about Zoe.”

She said it like a threat, her voice dripping with malice. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms.

She was threatening me, or maybe just showing off.

Either way, I was terrified. I wanted to run, but I forced myself to stay.

I forgot how I ended that conversation, or how I got home.

Everything after that was a blur—faces, voices, the world spinning around me.

I only knew that when I reached my door, all my luggage was piled there.

Suitcases, boxes, even my favorite lamp—all dumped outside like I was a stranger. Thrown out like trash.

I knocked like crazy. Autumn’s words seemed about to come true, but I refused to believe it.

I pounded on the door, shouting for my mom, begging her to let me in.

“Mom, open the door, Mom!”

My voice cracked, raw with desperation. I heard footsteps, then the door creaked open.

The door opened. I rushed in and hugged my mom, but she pushed me away coldly.

Her eyes were hard, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked at me like she didn’t recognize me.

“I kindly took you in, but you bullied my daughter at school. How dare you come back?”

Her words were icy, each one a dagger. I stumbled back, stunned.

I froze, as shocked as if struck by lightning.

My world tilted. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. My mom—my own mom—looked at me like I was nothing. It broke me.

I was almost in tears: “Mom, what are you talking about? I’m your daughter!”

My voice was small, pleading. She just shook her head, unmoved.

The only reply was the slam of the door and Autumn’s mocking face in the crack.

Her smile was triumphant, her eyes glittering with victory. I stared, numb, as the door shut in my face.

Never in my life had I been so scared or hated someone so much.

I stood in the hallway, tears streaming down my face, rage and terror warring inside me. I was alone.

I bought a paring knife at the store, kept it on me, and waited for her on her route to school.

My hands shook as I paid for it, the blade cold and sharp in my pocket. I waited in the shadows, heart pounding.

I’d completely lost my mind. Someone as timid and afraid of trouble as me could do anything when pushed too far.

Who was I?

There was only one thought in my head: “She stole my mom. I have to kill her.”

It looped in my mind, drowning out everything else. I gripped the knife, waiting.

I stayed up all night, nerves stretched tight, and the moment Autumn passed by, I rushed at her.

She walked past, oblivious. I lunged, knife raised, but my hand shook so badly I almost dropped it.

Thank God.

But the bloody scene I imagined didn’t happen.

A strong arm yanked me back, the knife clattering to the ground. I gasped, struggling.

A tall man stopped me. He easily dragged me away and took my knife.

No chance.

He was strong, silent, his grip unbreakable. He shoved the knife into his jacket pocket, eyes cold.

“Who are you? Let me go!”

I fought, kicking and screaming. He didn’t say a word, just kept walking.

He ignored my struggles, only letting me go when we reached a secluded corner.

He released me, stepping back. I stumbled, catching myself on a lamppost.

Suddenly I calmed down. I’d nearly made a huge mistake—almost become a murderer.

The reality of what I’d almost done hit me like a freight train. I sank to the curb, shaking.

Black coat, baseball cap, sharp features—he looked cool. I started sizing him up.

He looked like he belonged in a detective show—tall, lean, with a perpetual five o’clock shadow. His eyes were sharp, missing nothing.

He took out a black wooden token and waved it casually.

It was carved with strange symbols, smooth and worn from use. He held it up, and it seemed to shimmer in the light.

While I was wondering what it was, my necklace flew off and landed in his hand.

It lifted off my neck as if pulled by a magnet, landing softly in his palm. I gasped, reaching for it.

I reached for it, panic rising. “Hey, that’s mine! What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?”

My voice was shrill, desperate. He just stared at me, unblinking.

That was a gift from my mom. It meant a lot to me.

I clutched at my throat, feeling the absence of the necklace like a phantom limb.

“Disinfecting.”

His voice was flat, no-nonsense. He didn’t elaborate.

Me: ??

I stared, bewildered. Was this some kind of joke?

I remembered Autumn had touched that necklace.

The memory sent a chill through me. Maybe he knew something I didn’t. What was he protecting me from?

When I put it back on, the feeling of being watched disappeared.

The heaviness lifted, the shadows receding. I felt like I could finally breathe again.

Soon I figured out his identity—the operator of the mysterious website.

He handed me a business card—plain, black, with only a string of numbers. I recognized the number from the chat page. So it was him.

Let’s just call him Big Brother. He didn’t intend to tell me his real name.

He shrugged when I asked, lips twitching in a half-smile. “Names aren’t important.”

Maybe he could tell me what all this was about.

I followed him to a quiet café, the air thick with the smell of burnt coffee and old books. I asked my questions, voice barely above a whisper.

I worked up the courage to ask what exactly Autumn was—a ghost? Or a demon?

I expected him to laugh, but he just shook his head, his eyes serious.

Not what I expected.

He shook his head: “Neither.”

His voice was grave. “She’s something else. Something older.”

Later I learned, Autumn was still Autumn, only her body housed an overflowing energy entity called a Wraith.

He explained in slow, careful words—Wraiths weren’t ghosts or demons, but something in between. They fed on negative emotions, slipping into people who were already vulnerable.

This thing is attracted by intense human greed, hatred, or resentment.

He said it was like a parasite, drawn to the darkest parts of the human soul. Once it found a host, it clung on tight. It made sense. In a twisted way.

But the chance of it successfully entering a human body is very small, unless the two are highly compatible.

He explained it was rare—most people rejected the Wraith, but sometimes, the match was perfect.

After a Wraith enters a human, it is very weak, and grows by eating raw meat. That’s why Autumn, who was very heavy at first, became skin and bones overnight.