The summer sun shimmered over the rolling hills as we pulled into the long gravel driveway leading to WeHaKee Camp for Girls. The towering pine trees framed the camp like sentinels, their needles catching the golden light. I sat in the backseat, squished between Jessica and Bloom, my stomach doing nervous flips.

"This is it," Mom said, her voice carrying a forced cheer. She glanced at us in the rearview mirror, her smile strained but encouraging. "Your summer adventure begins now."

Bloom leaned forward, staring wide-eyed at the wooden archway that read Welcome to Camp WeHaKee. "It's... big," she whispered.

Jessica rolled her eyes. "It's camp, Bloom. Not a mansion."

Still, I couldn't blame her for being a little awestruck. The sprawling grounds had a rustic charm. Cabins dotted the landscape, and a sparkling lake glistened in the distance. A faint buzz of activity carried through the air—girls laughing, counselors calling out instructions, and the rhythmic hum of cicadas.

Our counselor, a chipper woman named Miss Kelly, met us at the entrance and helped us get settled in our cabin. The walls were adorned with posters of cheerful slogans: "Be Your Best Self!" and "Friendship Blooms Here!" It was cozy but not cramped, with six bunks lining the walls. Bloom and I claimed two side-by-side bunks while Jessica took the one nearest the window.

"This is actually kind of nice," Bloom said, running her fingers over the quilt on her bed.

"Let's see if you still think that after a week of camp food," Jessica teased.

The first few days passed in a blur of activities. Mornings were filled with arts and crafts, where Bloom and I made matching friendship bracelets. Afternoons were spent swimming in the lake or trying (and failing) to canoe without tipping over. Evenings were reserved for campfire songs and roasting marshmallows under a canopy of stars. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt... normal. Just a girl at camp, surrounded by friends.

Jessica was in her element, quickly making friends with the other girls in our cabin. Bloom, who was still adjusting to her new self, hung back a little but seemed to enjoy the quiet companionship we shared.

One evening, after a particularly messy dinner of spaghetti, the camp director announced a special night hike. The plan was to follow a trail through the woods and stargaze at the clearing on the far side of the lake. Excitement buzzed through the dining hall.

As we gathered at the trailhead, Bloom clung to my arm. "I've never been a fan of the dark," she admitted softly.

"Don't worry," I said, squeezing her hand. "I've got you."

Miss Kelly led the group, her flashlight casting long shadows on the trees. The hike was quiet at first, the crunch of our sneakers on the dirt path mingling with the chirps of crickets. The air was cool and heavy with the scent of pine.

Jessica and a few other girls walked ahead, their whispers and giggles drifting back to us. Bloom and I stayed toward the middle of the group, the glow of Miss Kelly's flashlight reassuring but distant.

As we neared the clearing, a strange feeling washed over me—a prickling at the back of my neck. The sounds of the forest seemed to dim, as if the night itself were holding its breath. I glanced at Bloom, who was looking around nervously.

"Do you feel that?" she whispered.

I nodded, my heart beating faster. The air felt heavier, almost electric, and the trees seemed to close in around us.

Suddenly, a sharp, metallic click echoed through the woods, stopping us in our tracks. The sound was faint but distinct, like the snap of a switch being flipped. Miss Kelly turned, her flashlight beam swinging wildly as she scanned the group.

"Did anyone hear that?" she asked, her cheerful tone now tinged with uncertainty.

We all nodded, the unease spreading like wildfire. Jessica joined us, her confident demeanor now replaced with a furrowed brow. "What was that?"

Another sound followed—a low hum, like the distant thrum of machinery. It grew louder, reverberating through the ground beneath our feet. The other girls huddled together, their whispers turning to nervous chatter.

"Stay calm," Miss Kelly said, though her voice betrayed her unease. "It's probably just the generator at the main lodge."

"But the main lodge is on the other side of the lake," Jessica pointed out.

The hum intensified, the vibration rattling the metal flashlight in Miss Kelly's hand. Then, as suddenly as it started, the sound stopped. The forest fell silent once more, the stillness suffocating.

"Let's keep moving," Miss Kelly said finally, her voice tight. "We're almost at the clearing."

But as we resumed our hike, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching us. Every shadow seemed darker, every rustle of leaves more ominous. Bloom grabbed my hand, her grip tight. When we reached the clearing, the tension eased slightly. The stars above were breathtaking, a glittering expanse that stretched across the sky. But even as the other girls oohed and aahed at the view, I couldn't shake the lingering dread.

I grabbed Bloom, my heart racing. "I don't like it here," I said, panic rising in my voice.

All of a sudden someone or something put a sac over my head and the world went dark.