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The next morning, I woke up feeling like I hadn't slept at all.

I dragged myself out of bed, the weight of everything still sitting heavy on my chest. My brain kept replaying every single thing that had happened yesterday—Tasha's threat, the school brushing it off, Mom making that call to someone I didn't even know.

The world hadn't changed overnight, but it sure felt different.

I threw on my hoodie and jeans, making sure the sleeves of my sweatshirt covered my hands. I wanted to disappear today, to just get through school without anything else being thrown at me.

But deep down, I knew that wasn't going to happen.

At breakfast, Mom acted normal.

Too normal.

She made coffee, helped Lily with her hair, and talked to Sam about something he had due for class. She didn't mention last night, the phone call, or Tasha.

I stared at my plate, pushing my eggs around with my fork, waiting for her to bring it up.

She didn't.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Did you... talk to him?"

Mom paused mid-sip of her coffee. "Yes."

I waited for her to say more, but she didn't.

I frowned. "And?"

Mom set her mug down. "And we'll talk about it later. Right now, you need to eat and get ready for school."

I hated that answer.

But I also knew that tone—the one that meant she wasn't going to give me anything else right now.

So I let it drop.

For now.

At school, Jasmine and Mia were waiting at my locker.

And they could tell immediately that something was up.

Jasmine narrowed her eyes. "Okay. What's wrong?"

I sighed, shoving my books into my locker. "The school is useless. That's what's wrong."

Mia crossed her arms. "What did they say?"

I turned to face them, my frustration bubbling up again. "I told Principal Peterson about Tasha. About how she called Lexi, how she threatened me, how some girl I don't even know warned me to be careful." I snapped my locker shut. "And you know what he said? We don't have any reason to believe she would return."

Jasmine's jaw dropped. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

Mia let out a slow breath. "That's... that's really bad."

Jasmine wasn't calm about it at all. "So what, they're just gonna wait until something happens? Like, oh, sorry Emily, I guess we should've stopped her before she ruined your life again?"

"Pretty much," I muttered.

Mia rubbed her temples. "That's completely irresponsible."

"Yeah, no kidding," I said, crossing my arms. "Mom tried to push back, but they basically shut her down."

Jasmine shook her head, looking like she wanted to throw something. "Okay, well, if the school isn't gonna do anything, then we have to."

I raised an eyebrow. "Jasmine, what exactly do you think we're gonna do?"

She threw up her hands. "I don't know! But we can't just pretend this isn't happening."

Mia nodded. "She's right. Even if we can't stop Tasha from coming back, we can at least be prepared. Watch each other's backs."

Something about that eased the pressure in my chest a little.

At least I had them.

At least I wasn't alone in this.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur.

I couldn't focus. Every time someone walked by me in the hall, I found myself checking their face, looking for any sign of Tasha or someone connected to her.

Nothing happened.

No warnings.

No strange looks.

No Tasha.

But I still felt like I was waiting for something to drop.

I felt like I was coming apart at the seams.

Even though nothing had happened yet, my chest felt tight all morning, my stomach flipping every time someone walked past me in the hallway. I caught myself checking the doorways, glancing over my shoulder, waiting for something to happen.

It didn't.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because the longer nothing happened, the more I felt like it was only a matter of time.

By third period, I could barely focus.

The teacher's voice drifted in and out, words turning into static as my mind replayed yesterday over and over again.

Tasha is out.

She had it coming for me.

She has people listening.

I tapped my pencil against my desk, my leg bouncing under the table. The room felt too warm, like the air was pressing in on me. I tried to shake the feeling, tried to tell myself I was just overthinking it, but my brain wouldn't let it go.

The second the bell rang, I was out of my seat instantly, shoving my books into my bag and heading straight for the hall.

I needed air.

I needed space.

I needed to—

"Emily?"

I flinched at the voice before realizing it was Lexi.

She was standing near the lockers, still wearing that same cautious expression I'd seen since she started trying to "fix things."

I hadn't even noticed her watching me.

"Are you okay?" she asked, frowning slightly.

I blinked. "I'm fine." The words came out too fast.

Lexi didn't buy it.

She crossed her arms, studying me like she was debating whether or not to say something.

I didn't have time for this.

I needed to get away, clear my head, something—but before I could walk off, Lexi sighed.

"She's not here."

My stomach clenched. "What?"

"Tasha," she said, voice even. "I know you're waiting for her to show up, but she's not here. At least... not yet."

I exhaled sharply. "Great. That makes me feel so much better."

Lexi hesitated, looking like she wanted to say more, but she pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Just... don't let her get in your head before she even does anything."

I scoffed. "That's easy for you to say."

Lexi frowned. "No, it's not."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I didn't. Instead, I just turned and walked toward my next class, my pulse still hammering, my skin still crawling with the feeling that something was coming.

Because deep down, I knew.

Lexi could say Tasha wasn't here yet.

Jasmine and Mia could say they had my back.

Mom and Dad could say they'd protect me.

But at the end of the day, none of it mattered.

Because Tasha wasn't the kind of person to let things go.

And she wasn't done with me.

Not by a long shot.

The cafeteria was loud, but I barely heard it.

The sound of trays clattering, voices overlapping, laughter ringing across the room—it all blurred into the background, like a movie I wasn't really watching.

I stared at my plate, my hands resting limply on the edges of my tray.

Spaghetti.

The red sauce was thick, pooling beneath the tangled noodles, and the longer I looked at it, the worse it got.

It didn't look like food.

It looked like guts.

Like someone had spilled their insides onto my tray and expected me to eat it.

My stomach twisted.

I swallowed hard, pushing the tray a little farther away.

Jasmine noticed immediately. "Emily, you haven't eaten anything."

I didn't answer.

She nudged my arm. "Come on. You need to eat."

I shook my head, gripping the sleeves of my hoodie like they could anchor me to something real, something safe.

I couldn't tell her what I was thinking.

I couldn't say, I'm picturing my intestines on this tray.

I couldn't say, It reminds me of how Tasha wants to tear me apart.

So I just sat there, my eyes burning, my chest tight, the cafeteria growing louder, heavier, unbearable.

Jasmine's voice softened. "Emily, please."

Mia set her juice box down, watching me carefully. "It's okay," she said, gentle but firm. "Just try a little."

I didn't want to.

I wanted to push the tray off the table, to run out of the cafeteria, to be anywhere but here.

But Jasmine's eyes were filled with worry, not frustration.

And that was somehow worse.

So, with shaking hands, I picked up my fork.

I twirled a little bit of spaghetti onto it.

I brought it to my mouth.

And the second I swallowed, the tears started.

I couldn't stop them.

A silent tear slid down my cheek, then another, then another, until I was just sitting there, crying into my food like an idiot.

Jasmine and Mia exchanged a glance, but neither of them said anything right away.

Jasmine scooted a little closer, not touching me, but just being there.

Mia slid a napkin across the table. "It's okay," she murmured.

I sniffled, staring at the tray, my hands gripping the fork too tightly.

I didn't know why I was crying.

Or maybe I did.

Maybe it was everything.

The fear. The waiting. The fact that no one was doing anything.

And the fact that I was just sitting here, eating spaghetti, like my life wasn't about to fall apart again.

Jasmine reached out slowly, hesitating before gently placing a hand on my arm.

"We got you," she whispered.

Mia nodded. "Always."

I let out a shaky breath, wiping at my face quickly, embarrassed but grateful.

They weren't letting go.

Even when I wanted to disappear, they were still right here.

By the time I got home, my body felt heavy, like all my energy had been drained from me.

I barely remembered the car ride—just staring out the window, watching the winter sky grow darker, my mind still tangled up in everything that had happened today. The spaghetti, the panic, the way Jasmine and Mia had looked at me like they were afraid I might shatter into a thousand pieces.

I didn't want them to look at me like that.

I didn't want to feel like this.

But I didn't know how to stop it.

I stepped inside, kicking off my shoes, already planning to go straight to my room when I stopped dead in my tracks.

There was a man standing in the living room.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark jeans, a fitted jacket, his arms crossed as he talked to Dad in a low, serious voice.

And I had no idea who he was.

His head turned at the sound of the door closing, and sharp blue eyes locked onto mine.

For a moment, I froze.

Then Mom walked in from the kitchen. "Emily."

I swallowed hard. "Uh. Who—"

"This is your Uncle David."

I blinked.

Uncle... David?

I knew Mom had a brother, but I didn't know him. I didn't even remember hearing about him much.

And now, suddenly, he was in my house?

He studied me for a second before giving a small nod. "Hey, kid."

I didn't know what to say.

Mom stepped forward, her voice gentler now. "I told you I wasn't going to sit back and wait for something to happen." She glanced at Dad, then at Uncle David. "David's here to help."

"Help... how?" I asked slowly.

Uncle David's expression didn't change. "Your mom filled me in on the situation. Tasha Caldwell. The school brushing it off. The fact that you feel like you're constantly waiting for something bad to happen."

I shifted uncomfortably, crossing my arms. "Okay, but what are you gonna do about it?"

Dad cleared his throat. "Your uncle works in private security. He has experience handling situations like this."

I stiffened. Private security?

I glanced at Uncle David again. He wasn't smiling, wasn't trying to act like this was some casual family visit. His posture was too controlled, too sharp, like he was always scanning the room, always thinking three steps ahead.

I didn't know what to say.

Mom must have noticed my hesitation because she softened slightly, stepping closer. "Emily, I know you don't know him, but he's family. And right now, we need to be thinking about your safety."

The word safety made my stomach twist.

Because right now, I didn't feel safe at all.

I bit my lip, glancing back at Uncle David. "So... what exactly are you going to do?"

He uncrossed his arms. "First step is making sure you know how to handle yourself."

My stomach dropped. "Wait. You're gonna teach me how to fight?"

Mom sighed. "Not fight. Defend yourself."

Uncle David nodded. "You don't need to be scared of her, Emily." His voice was even, steady, like he was stating a fact. "Fear is what makes people like her feel powerful. You take that away? She's got nothing."

I let out a small, hollow laugh. "Yeah, well, that's easier said than done."

His expression didn't change. "That's why I'm here."

I swallowed hard.

This was really happening.

Uncle David wasn't just some guy here to talk things through.

He was preparing me.

Because whether I liked it or not, Tasha wasn't done with me.

And I had to be ready.