The call came just as they were leaving Aarav's house.
From the hospital.
Inspector Ratan answered, his voice sharp with urgency.
The words from the other end made his breath catch.
---
By the time he and the Masked Detective reached the hospital, the skies had darkened further.
The scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air as Dr. Khan met them at the emergency wing doors.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You were both too late."
The Detective's chest tightened.
"No…"
Ratan asked, almost in a whisper, "What was her last word?"
Dr. Khan shook his head. "We… couldn't understand. It sounded like 'she's… inside…' or maybe 'beside…' The words were slurred. And then… she was gone."
The Detective closed her eyes.
Another piece lost.
Another player removed.
---
Rain continued to fall softly as they stood outside Ritika Dey's house—the home of a girl now gone.
Her mother answered the door, eyes swollen, her hands trembling.
"She's still in the hospital," she whispered.
Ratan gently said, "We know."
But she opened the door anyway.
"Please… come in."
Inside, the living room told a story of a normal girl's life—photos, paintings, joy frozen in time.
One of the photos showed Ritika smiling beside a boy… Aarav.
The Detective spoke softly, "Did she ever mention someone watching her?"
Her mother nodded slowly. "She had terrible nightmares. Talked in her sleep. Once… she screamed about a 'face in the mirror' and… a doll with no eyes.' We thought… it was just stress."
The Detective and Ratan went upstairs to her bedroom. It was untouched, quiet.
One book on the shelf had folded pages. Inside, a drawing:
> A girl with a stitched mouth and hollow eyes.
Scribbled at the top:
> "She wears what I fear."
They checked beneath the mattress.
Another notebook.
One sentence, again and again:
> "I'm not me."
Ratan closed the book gently, then muttered, "We need to see Aarav. Now."
---
They arrived at Aarav Bachi's house by late afternoon.
His uncle looked worn. "He hasn't eaten. Locked himself in."
They knocked on the boy's door.
Ratan called, "Aarav? It's the police. We just want to talk."
Silence.
Then, the creak of the door opening.
Aarav stood in the dim light—his eyes red, lips trembling.
"She's still here," he said softly.
The Detective stepped forward. "Who?"
"Ritika. I see her. In mirrors. In the window glass. She whispers from the dark corners. She says… they're not done yet."
Ratan gently asked, "Did she ever say someone was after her? Anyone?"
Aarav nodded. "She said… 'The game picked me.' Then she gave me something. Told me to keep it safe."
He opened a drawer and handed them a small wooden coin.
On one side:
> A black rose.
On the other:
> Number 4.
The Detective froze.
"She was the first…"
Ratan whispered, "That means you…"
Aarav's lips trembled.
> "I don't want to die."
---
Back at the school, as dusk fell and orange light bled through the sky…
The classroom lights flickered.
In Class 7-A, where Aarav usually sat…
Someone had written in chalk:
> "Four shall fall. One shall rise."
And beneath it:
> Aarav.
---
To Be Continued...