The Echoes of Us

Part I: The Empty Frame

Harper Lawrence adjusted the sleek black frame on her office wall. It was empty, the stark white of the wall glaring through the glass. Her patients often asked why there was no picture. She always gave the same vague answer:
“It’s a reminder to focus on the unseen.”

Tonight, long after her last client had left, she sat at her desk, flipping through her notebook. Someone had scrawled a chilling message in childlike handwriting among her usual notes: You forgot about me.

Harper’s throat tightened. She tore the page out, crumpling it. The cleaning crew must be playing a prank, she decided. But her reflection in the office window showed someone else sitting behind her. She spun around. Empty.

She grabbed her bag and hurried home. The frame, still empty, reflected moonlight as the office fell silent.

Part II: The Stranger

At home, Harper unlocked the front door and froze. The scent of roses filled the air—cloying, overwhelming. A single rose lay on her dining table, its petals blackened at the edges. Beneath it, an envelope bore her name in block letters.

Inside was an old photograph. Harper recognized it immediately: her fifth-grade class photo. She was in the middle row, beaming. The boy next to her, Oliver, had a bruised face.

She sat, clutching the photo. Oliver Sykes. She hadn’t thought of him in decades. “We were just kids,” she whispered to the silence.

A soft knock on the window startled her. Turning, she saw nothing but shadows shifting in the yard. The faint outline of a figure loomed and then dissolved into the night.

Part III: The Forgotten Promise

Harper dreamt of her childhood that night. Oliver, quiet and withdrawn, always seemed to follow her in school. She’d promised to be his friend, but when her popularity soared, she pulled away. The other kids mocked him relentlessly, and Harper had turned a blind eye.

She woke to a voice whispering her name. Her bedside clock read 3:00 AM.
“Who’s there?” she demanded.

No answer. Only the faint sound of a child’s laughter echoed down the hall. Gripping her phone, Harper stepped into the corridor. The laugh faded, leaving her with a memory: Oliver had vanished one day after school. The police suspected foul play, but his case went cold.

In her living room, the photograph from the envelope rested on the floor. Her younger self’s face was scratched out, and the empty frame from her office stood eerily nearby.

Part IV: The Game

Harper stayed late at the office the next day, consumed by unease. She searched the archives for news about Oliver’s disappearance. One headline stood out: “Friendless Boy Missing After School Incident.”

Her breath hitched. The article described how Oliver had lashed out after being bullied. No one claimed to have seen him afterward. She’d avoided reporters, feigning ignorance.

A loud knock jolted her back. On the office door was another photograph showing Harper as a teenager, laughing in her cheerleading uniform. A message in red ink read: Remember.

Her phone buzzed, and a blocked number was calling.
“Who is this?” Harper answered, her voice trembling.
“You know who I am,” said a voice, childlike and chilling. “Let’s play.”

The lights flickered out. A chilling breeze swept through the room, carrying the faint scent of roses.

Part V: The Echo

Harper retreated to her home, the heavy feeling of someone watching her weighing down every step. A new rose waited on her pillow, accompanied by a note:
“You can’t erase me.”

Desperate, she returned to her childhood home. The neglected house was still standing, eerily untouched. She found the crumbled remnants of a treehouse in the woods behind it, where the children used to play.

A dirt mound with a small wooden cross marked OS lay among the decay. Harper collapsed, trembling, as fragmented memories of that day returned: Oliver crying in the woods, her walking away, the sound of a crack, his scream silenced too soon.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the shadows.

“I waited for you,” a voice answered from behind. A pale and cold hand rested on her shoulder. She turned to see Oliver, his face bruised and tear-streaked, smiling faintly.

Harper screamed, but no one heard. When the sun rose, there was no sign of her, only the faint smell of roses lingering in the air.