The morning light spilled through the golden-trimmed curtains, bathing the white living room in a soft, buttery glow. From the kitchen, Bella glanced over at the sound of someone groaning awake.

Jason jolted upright on the couch, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he scanned the quiet room. The flatscreen TV sat dark and lifeless, and pale morning light caught the cold gleam of grey trim around the windows.

"Easy," Bella said gently, flipping a pancake over the stovetop.

The warm, sweet scent of pancake batter filled the air. Her hands moved with the ease of habit—muscle memory shaped by countless mornings spent at her mom's side, learning the moment when the edges turned the perfect golden broken.

Jason rose slowly, his footsteps soft as he made his way to the open-concept kitchen. His eyes landed on the granite countertop, where a bowl of fresh strawberries and blueberries rested.

"Do you like strawberries and blueberries?" Bella asked, her eyes searching his face.

"Where are the plates?" he asked instead, flashing a tired smile.

She pointed toward the white cabinet above her head. Jason reached up, pulled open the cupboard, and carefully took out two clean ceramic plates. He set them gently on the island counter, where a modest snake plant stood beside her mom's tablet.

Jason sank onto a stool with a heavy sigh, running a hand wearily down his face.

"Feeling stressed again?" she asked softly, offering him the first pancake with a smile.

She knew he had a lot on his plate with everything going on, especially with those Uden Academy people. They would probably come back and twist the orders that they ended up making between the sides.

He nodded faintly, his hazel eyes distant. "I need to check in with Ilya and Zane. Has Mark been around?"

"He stopped by last night," Bella said with a weary sigh. "Something about a protest about people with abilities."

Jason leaned his head back on the stool, slumping deeper into his seat. He probably didn't have the first clue where to start with this whole mess.

"Xander mentioned seeing some Uden kids collecting food," Bella added.

Bella carefully slid a golden pancake onto her plate and carried it over to the kitchen island, where Jason waited silently. The only sound breaking the heavy silence was the faint clink of silverware against ceramic.

"I was thinking about something last night," she began. "What if something's actually trapping us here? Like we're stuck inside a room with no door? And why did everyone over fifteen just disappear? What could have caused this?"

The fact everyone older than fifteen was gone wasn't just weird. It was straight up terrifying. How do they even explain it?

Bella found herself haunted by the question: what invisible force could have wiped her friends and parents so abruptly, leaving only her behind.

"That's one thought I can't wrap my head around," Jason admitted, his eyebrows furrowed. "Plus, what happened to Ashley?"

Bella watched as Jason ran his hands through his tousled hair, his eyes clouded with exhaustion and worry. She wondered if the strange substance Ashley had come into contact with was the result of a chemical spill—a leak from a truck or something hazardous that seeping silently from the nearby power plant.

"Melany said she'd keep me updated," Bella said quietly.

Jason chewed in silence for a moment. "If something's caging us in," he finally said. "I just gotta know what it is."

After breakfast, Bella stood at the double sink, her hands moving through the warm, soapy water as she washed the dishes.

The dishwasher broke earlier that week. She stared at the open machine like it was a robot. No one knew how to fix it. No one even knew if it was still worth trying.

Jason pushed back his stool and stood, leaving his plate empty plate behind. "Let's go find Mark," he said.

Bella followed him out the front door, and the moment they stepped onto the porch, the silence of the world pressed around them.

The streets were silent like someone had muted the world. The sunlight bounced off the empty pavement like it was mocking them.

They followed the sidewalk toward King Street, and they eventually spotted Mark standing the Foodland.

He had a shovel slung over one of his shoulders, his green hoodie streaked with mud. Beside him walked a younger kid—a sixth-grader from Uden Academy—carrying a plastic bin as they made their way toward the faded red Home Hardware building.

"Mark!" Jason called out.

The boy looked up, tucking the shovel under one arm. "Hey, dude."

"We need your dad's boat," Jason said urgently.

Bella nodded. "We think something's keeping us here."

Mark didn't hesitate. "Uh, sure. We can head to the dock. I'll tell Zane you're going out."

Zane appeared from behind the building, a clipboard tucked under one arm and keys jangling in his hand. He was only thirteen, but after the adults vanished, he'd stepped up—coordinating at the fire station, organizing the younger kids for work, and keeping Greyson's system running.

Bella had never really interacted with Zane or Mark back in school. Mark had always just been another face in the hallway she would pass with her friends.

"You really think something is keeping us in?" Zane asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We have to check," Jason replied. "Just to confirm,"

Zane nodded. "Okay, I'll keep an eye out for you."

The ride to the dock was silent, the golf cart's electric buzz the only sound as it rolled along the cracked beach road. Wasaga Beach had once been full with life—sunburned friends sprawled on towels, the scent of barbecue drifting from porches, kids running barefoot through the sand without a care.

Her father had loved the water. Every summer, they'd take the boat out from their cottage in Sauble Beach, drifting past the docks with neighbours waving from their decks. The older son next door could waterski like a pro, cutting across the wake with ease.

Bella, on the other hand, could barely stand up before face-planting—but her dad always laughed, saying she'd get it next time.

Now, she was going boating for a completely different reason—to figure out why they might be prisoners in their own town.

They pulled up to the dock, where a small fishing boat bobbed gently in the water, its faded paint peeling at the edges.

Mark climbed in first and started rummaging through the storage compartments under the bench. Jason followed without a word. Bella paused at the edge, staring at the boat for a moment before gripping the side and hauling herself in.

"Be ready," Mark said as the engine coughed, then roared to life. "So, you really think something's surrounding us?"

"It feels like it," Jason said. "Have you been boating before?"

"Yeah," Bella nodded. "Every summer. Cottage in Sauble Beach."

The lake shimmered under the bright sun, but something about it felt wrong. The water was too still, like glass stretched tight. And the horizon looked like someone had erased everything that should've been there.

Mark cut the engine. He stared across the lake, frowning like he was trying to solve a math problem.

"Okay... that's not normal," he said, squinting across the water. "Why does it look like the lake's expanding?"

The lake stretched endlessly ahead of them—no islands, no docks, no cottages. Just water. Bella blinked, leaning forward. Then she saw it too: a faint curves in the distance, almost invisible, like the edge of a glass dome catching the light.

Jason reached out slowly, like he was testing the heat from a fire. His fingertip barely touched the invisible curve, but yelped, jerking his hand back with a sharp cry.

"Jason!" Bella gasped.

Her heart lurched so hard it hurt. She grabbed his wrist on instinct, her hands trembling as she checked the blackened fingertip.

For a second, it looked dead. Then, slowly, the charred layer began to flake away, revealing red skin underneath.

"It's a barrier," Bella whispered, her voice trembling. "I think it goes all the way around us."

Mark stared at the curve in the distance, then back at Jason's hand. "It's a bubble."

"Let's... just follow it, I guess," Jason suggested. "See how far it goes."

Mark restarted the engine, and the boat hummed back to life. They cruised along slowly along the invisible edge, following the faint shimmer. With every passing minute, the truth became harder to ignore: there was no outside. No reflection of docks. No cottages. No sign of the old city road. Just endless, quiet water.

"Is there even an outside world anymore?" Jason asked, almost to himself.

Bella leaned forward, squinting at the curve barrier as it shimmered in the light. "Maybe it's connected to those powers? Or maybe something went wrong," she murmured.

"Mark," Jason said quietly, still staring at the barrier. "You can head back now."

Mark turned the boat around slowly, none of them speaking.

Bella's thoughts spun. This felt like something ripped from a sci-fi horror movie—a shimmering dome trapping them like lab rats, cutting them off from the world. But this wasn't a screen or a dream. It was real. And it was terrifying.

She glanced at Jason. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, head buried in his hands. The pressure was clearly getting to him. He hadn't asked to lead—but somehow, it still landed on his shoulders. And now, with kids still probably messing around town and the threat of Uden showing up in Simcoe, it was all on him.

"I should probably check on Ashley," Jason muttered, breaking the silence without lifting his head.

Bella wondered if it was more than just this barrier weighing on him. Ashley's condition was eating at him. That strange purple substance in her knee still didn't make sense. All she'd done is trip in a ditch, and now her leg was infected with something no one could explain.

"Melany said she's improving," Bella reassured. "But I still don't get what that purple stuff was."

The boat eased back up to the dock, and Mark killer the engine. They climbed out in silence. Mark tied the boat, then offered Bella a hand.

She stepped onto the dock, her legs unsteady—not from the boat, but from the terrible realization settling in. They were trapped. Really trapped. And suddenly the world felt too big and too small at the same time.

Whatever sense of normal she'd had left was gone. Simcoe wasn't the same anymore. Nothing was.

Seducing men had always come naturally to Scarlett—like a second language she never had to study.

From the moment Scarlett met Henry and his crew, two of them couldn't stop staring. That was way Greyson always kept her close—she was a weapon, and she knew exactly how to then people into pawns.

It hadn't escaped her that Henry disliked Jason. That only made the job easier.

Scarlett grabbed a glass of chocolate milk and a slice of toast, not that breakfast mattered. Tasks waited, and she had plans.

Teaming up with Emma would be entertaining, though not in any way Scarlett found fun. Emma had always been intimidated by her, and dating Greyson had only made things worse.

"What's so funny?" Luke asked, leaning against the black marble counter.

"Your shirt's on backward," Scarlett snickered, grabbing her plate and chocolate milk before striding toward the hardwood dining tables.

Luke dropped into the chair across from her, spinning a pen between his fingers. He grinned before speaking. "Confronting Jason's always a thrill. Maybe this time, I'll leave a mark on that slut."

Luke never let anyone off without damage if he thought they deserved it. And most of the time, he got away with it. Even the teachers at Uden didn't seem to know what to do with them.

"He's probably panicking now that he's the scapegoat," Luke said, his grin stretching wider. "And you've got Emma as your tagalong."

"She'll ask questions," Scarlett replied with a smirk. "She always wants to know what happened at reform camp between me and Greyson. He never tells her. Guess it's up to me."

"Not everyone here," came Greyson's voice from behind.

They turned to see him approaching the table, irritation etched into his face.

"Preston's probably off being the perv he is," Scarlett muttered, rolling her eyes.

Greyson raised an eyebrow at her, since she had slept in the boys' dorms. Not that it was a secret. Girls drifted in and out of them as they pleaded. Scarlett just used his room like a personal changing booth while he showered.

"Has Emma shown up yet?" he asked.

Both Scarlett and Luke shook their heads. Greyson sighed and dropped into a seat beside her. Scarlett could tell that he was rattled—they were behind schedule, and it was starting to show.

Moments later, the dorm door opened and Emma stepped in, wearing a rose-coloured shirt and black pants.

Scarlett stood, casting a smirk at Greyson and Luke. "This will be easy," she said, already heading for the door.

She slid into the driver's seat of one of the black cars parked outside. With a sharp rev of the engine, she tore out of Uden like a bullet, tires screeching as Emma's shrieked beside her.

The sky remained unchanged—it always did. Clouds drifted lazily, but the weather held steady in a permanent sunny glow. Scarlett found it strange. Too still. Too staged. Like the world had been put on frozen, and they were the only ones moving.

Scarlett pulled into the lot outside the LCBO. Groups of kids huddled near the building, passing around red Solo cups. One boy's sob caught her attention—his hand bleeding from a deep cut shards broken glass scattered nearby.

"Morons," she muttered under her breath.

She and Emma stepped out, walking side by side down the street. Scarlett wasn't exactly sure where Henry was, but she had a strong hunch.

"So, who are we exactly looking for?" Emma asked, glancing nervously around.

"Henry and his thugs," Scarlett replied with a smirk. "They're probably trying to form their own little gang."

They weaved through the streets. Kids clustered in small groups—brawling, laughing, lost in games that had no rules. Scarlett's eyes caught the red, swollen marks on some faces. Just one day without parents and they were already unraveling.

Ahead, near the Foodland, Zane stood stiff, speaking to three girls who looked ready to explode. Scarlett's smirk grew. Greyson hadn't mentioned using anyone this way—but rules were meant to bend.

"Hey, Zane, right?" Scarlett called out.

The boy with chocolate skin and dark eyes looked up at her, surprise flicking across his face. She watched as he shooed off the girls away and stepped closer toward them. If anyone had dirt on the situation, it was him.

"Scarlett. Emma," he said slowly.

"That's right," Scarlett replied.

"What are you up to?" he asked, suspicion in his voice.

"We're here to—" Emma started, but Scarlett cut off.

"Have you guys found any information?" Scarlett pressed.

Zane shook his head. "Not yet."

"That's too bad. Do you know where I could find Henry?" Scarlett asked, keeping her tone casual.

Zane nodded toward the street. "He's hanging out by the variety store."

They walked in silence, weaving past smashed cars and twisted debris scattered along the sidewalk. Scarlett wasn't surprised by Emma's quiet—girls like her always stayed silent around Scarlett, their nerves tangled with jealousy.

Emma chewed her lip as Scarlett led the way. "Can I ask you something?"

Scarlett arched an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"Has anything ever happened between you and Greyson? I just need to know the truth," Emma pressed.

It's not a surprise that Greyson wasn't telling her the truth. He had only agreed to date Emma because of her healing ability, which she had developed a few months ago. It wasn't just something he could use if he got injured, but finding out if there were other freaks with the same power.

Scarlett paused, locking eyes with Emma before saying bluntly, "We had sex."

She remembered those long nights at camp, when Greyson would quietly complain about Uden "reform program." Supposedly designed to teach kindness, they always ended in chaos. Fights always broke out. She'd learned early that rules were optional if you knew how to bend them.

It was their third year at camp, and during those long, restless nights, they talked about why they'd been sent to Uden Academy in the first place.

Greyson's adoptive parents claimed it was because of determination and ambition, but Scarlett saw through it. It was just an excuse to send him away. He'd confided that his family always felt off, like something was fundamentally wrong.

Scarlett had told him one reason she ended up at the academy: she exposed her father's affair with her tutor, shattering her parents' marriage.

That night, Greyson's roommate went out with a girl, sparking a shift between Scarlett and a Greyson that neither talked about afterward.

Scarlett resumed walking as Emma began to catch up. "I assume Greyson didn't tell you?" Scarlett inquired as Emma nodded slowly.

Did Emma really expect Greyson to spill his darkest secrets? Not a chance. Scarlett wasn't sure what 'normal' dating looked like anyway—she was used to seduction as a weapon, pressing close, using her body to provoke and control.

Outside the variety store, Henry and his crew lounged with baseball bats in hand. A few new faces stood among them—strangers Scarlett hadn't noticed on her first day in town. Her lips curled into a smirk as Henry's gaze locked onto hers. Foolishly easy to manipulate.

"Hey, Scarlett," Henry greeted, stepping forward.

Stick and a short boy with curly red hair fell in behind him. They halted just ahead, clearly surprised to see her. Without Greyson, she was the centre of attention.

"This is Emma," Scarlett introduced coolly.

"Cool. I'm Finn," the redhead said with a nod.

"Greyson wants to talk to you Would you come to Uden?" Scarlett asked, watching their faces carefully.

Henry exchanged a glance with Stick and Finn. She silently hoped they'd say yes. Not having to seduce them almost felt too easy.

"How many of us are we talking about? We got a lot," Henry replied.

"Mostly the ones who run things," Scarlett said with a sly smile.

Henry called over another boy before turning back. It seemed like her plan was working,

"We'll come with you. The Bubble means the real world's game over." Scarlett laughed at Stick's wording.

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "The Bubble? What the hell is that?"

"The place we're trapped in," Henry explained, falling in step beside Emma.

Scarlett rolled her eyes the stupid name, but deep down, she knew this wasn't Simcoe anymore. No more crosswalk guard barking orders. No teachers shouting at kids to stay in line. Whatever normal had been, it was gone.

"Alright, let's move," she said, turning her attention to Henry.

They walked in silence. Scarlett's smirk stayed in place, her thoughts already too steps ahead. Greyson was going to use these boys for something—probably against Jason. And if what she discovered was true, then Greyson would be furious.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Scarlett's head. As they loaded into the vehicle and drove back, she could use Greyson for something. She often took advantage of his power, as he was the first to show them. With these boys, getting answers would require using the art of seduction.

They drove and pulled up in front of Uden Academy, where Scarlett spotted Luke and Preston loading into another car. This was Preston's chance to spy on Jason, and if he neglected his orders, Greyson would probably throw him into a wall. The pervert was always doing perverted things to girls. It was how he got here in the first place.

"Well," she heard Luke's voice.

"Better keep the pervert in check," she laughed.

Luke had the same sadistic smile on his face, as usual. He didn't appear to be a sadist, but in reality, he was the one who was sent here for almost killing someone.

As they walked into the main office, Scarlett noticed that the desk on the left was scattered, with a broken cup and ripped files. The computer had a black screen instead of usual blue background. It seemed like all the equipment needed to reach anyone was out of service.

There was a staircase on the other side as they climbed up. The stairs were dark wood with a maroon carpet running down the centre. It seemed that everything in this building was either brown, maroon, or black. The walls were also maroon, and there were offices located at the top. Greyson had told her to meet in one of the upstairs offices.

Scarlett peered into the first one and saw Greyson sitting across from James, his laptop in front of him and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Scarlett knocked on the door, causing both to look up. James stood up from his seat, causing Scarlett to smirk.

"I brought you some strippers," Scarlett mocked, walking towards an empty office chair.

Henry and his crew followed and crowded into the office, standing in front of the wide desk where Greyson sat. Some of them had baseball bats at their sides, while others stood with their arms crossed.

Emma fell behind, shoulders hunched. Her eyes flickered over the room once, then dropped to the floor.

"I assume Scarlett told you about seeing me," Greyson said, glancing at her with a slight smirk before turning back to Henry and his crew. "I have a job for you."

Ilya never imagined that she would be in charge of a daycare, especially in a world like this. It wasn't her dream job. She had no fantasies of soothing infants or reading picture books for hours. Yet here she was, seated cross-legged on the floor with a little girl named Sofia nestled against her, listening with wide eyes as Ilya read from a worn storybook.

She read slowly, her voice soft and steady despite the knot of anxiety in her chest. Sofia's small hand found hers, and then another child leaned closer, as if drawn by the sound of her words.

Somehow, they responded to her. They trusted her—even when she barely trusted herself—and the ease with which they reached for her hand was almost shocking, as if she had always been apart of their world.

The room was small but comforting, built for warmth more than space. Peach-coloured walls wrapped around, with fake green vines tacked along the edges.

In one corner stood a narrow kitchen in one corner with brown drawers and a dented microwave. Two side rooms held floor mats, cribs, and piles of donated blankets, while a tiny blue bathroom sat at the end of the hall, always smelling faintly of soap and baby powder.

Rachel, one of the volunteers, sat at a low plastic table, patiently spooning oatmeal into the mouths of two drowsy toddlers who could barely keep their eyes open. She murmured soft encouragement between bites, wiping their chins with a corner of her sleeve whenever they missed.

The disappearance of everyone aged fifteen and older haunted Ilya. She couldn't stop wondering where they had gone—or if they were ever coming back. It was more than just the loss of adults; it was the sudden loss of structure.

Her mother had always managed her medication, kept the bottles locked away, reminded her when to take it. Without her, Ilya felt adrift, trying to navigate the edge between functioning and falling apart.

Ilya was supposed to take her anxiety medication every night, especially the one that helped her sleep. But that wasn't so simple now. Nights were whenever the babies cried the most, when toddlers woke up scared and needed to be rocked back to sleep.

She couldn't afford to be drowsy, not when every child in the building depended on her. So, she skipped doses, telling herself that she could catch up later—though she knew that's not how these things work.

"Ilya, I'm hungry," Sofia mumbled, tugging at her sleeve.

Ilya rubbed her eyes, muscles aching from a sleepless night. Slowly, she rose and took Sofia's hand, leading her toward the red, bean-shaped table near the corner. Her gaze scanned the table—someone had left out a small assortment snacks: cheese slices, crackers, and a few apple wedges browning at the edges. It wasn't much, but it was enough to quiet a hungry stomach for a little awhile.

Angel Fernandez sat nearby, patiently feeding some of the toddlers, but the newborns were a challenge. Bottle-feeding formula to babies who refused the unfamiliar taste was a frustrating process.

Ilya's mind flickered back to her health class lessons—how mothers were meant to breastfeed, providing warmth and comfort she knew none of them could offer. They weren't mothers. They were strangers trying to step into roles they had never imagined, doing what they could with what little they knew.

It was exhausting work, the kind that didn't end when the lights dimmed. Nights were when the babies cried the most, when toddlers woke up scared and needed to be rocked back to sleep. Ilya had to stay awake. There was no one else.

"Ilya, it's your break," Layla called softly, nodding toward the kitchen.

They were supposed to take a full hour, but Ilya rarely did it—ten minutes was more than enough. She had little appetite, but she forced herself to eat anyway. Food was complicated to her, something she rarely talked about, another reason she missed her mother's careful care.

She walked to the kitchen and sat at a grey table, eating a ham sandwich she had made the night before. It was one of the few things she enjoyed eating, and it gave her an urge to eat.

Treats such as ice cream gave her that sugary tendency; bubble gum ice cream was her favourite, which made her crave the treat.

As she chewed slowly on her sandwich, Ilya pulled her phone from her pocket. The screen stayed black—dead, even through she had charged it fully the night before. No calls. No messages. No way to reach anyone outside Simcoe.

She set it down, her attention drifting. Through the side window, movement caught her eye.

A girl stood outside wearing purple sunglasses, handing two small bags to two boys. From the distance, they looked like candy. Round. Sugary.

Ilya's stomach tightened.

She knew better. Candy didn't come in measured little bags. Her thoughts spiralled immediately to pill bottles, to labels she used to read under her mother's watchful eye. Anxiety medication. Sleep aids. Things people weren't supposed to share.

The girl noticed her staring and offered a sheepish wave. The boys saluted goodbye and wandered off. Then the girl pushed up her sunglasses up, flashed a grin, and disappeared around the corner.

Ilya swallowed hard.

If those had been pills, someone was breaking the rules.

If they weren't, then she was seeing danger everywhere.

Either way, the knot in her chest tightened. She missed the certainty adults used to bring—the clear lines between right and wrong, safe and unsafe. Now there were only guesses, and the weight of making the wrong one.

Don't forget to comment and vote!
-Lexi