It starts with a phone call.

Ophelia Nigmos jolts upright from her bed, peeling away sweaty arms from her sheets. Her first thought—the thought that always comes to mind whenever she experiences an abrupt awakening in the dead of night—is to check for traces of a phantom lurking about the premises. She releases a shaky breath of relief upon realizing that the source of the noise is her cellphone, and she answers it.

"Johnny?" Ophelia can't shake the grouchiness from her tone, despite her genuine concern. "It's the middle of the night."

"Yeah… yeah I know," he says on the other line, the reluctance evident in his voice. "Just… I'm worried."

"About what?"

"About Ripp. He wasn't at school yesterday. Or the day before. And he isn't responding to any of my calls." He sighs. "Any luck on your end?"

Ophelia shakes her head, even though Johnny can't see her. "No. Not a thing." She bites her lip, her mind now thinking of the worst like it always does, her heart now hammering away at the center of her chest. "Johnny… is this really the best time to be talking about this? Now I really don't think I'll be able to sleep."

"Called because this was keeping me up anyways," he admits, frustrated.

"Sorry," Ophelia says quietly. For a brief moment, there is nothing except static between the two of them. Finally, she manages to ask, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"About what Ripp said the other day?" Johnny says. "You don't think—"

"That he was serious about it?" she asks. "That he'd actually run away for good?" Ophelia ponders the practicality of the scenario. "I don't know, Johnny. You know how his dad is. How scary he can be."

"But Phe, he has us."

"I know but—" Ophelia tucks her knees closer to her chest, leaning back against the bed frame. "You wouldn't get it. Your family's great."

If it wasn't for the dim glow of her cellphone, Ophelia's windowless room would be blanketed in complete and total darkness. She wonders if Aunt Olive can hear her, if Aunt Olive is on the other side of the door right now, if there are listening devices planted somewhere in her room where only Aunt Olive would know. Ophelia's eyes shift to the door, and it's times like these where she remembers that the only room with a locking door in this house is the one belonging to Aunt Olive.

"You feel safe at home," Ophelia finally says in a low tone. "Not everyone can say that. Especially not Ripp."

"What if," Johnny pauses, and a sinking feeling in Ophelia's gut tells her where he's going with this. "What if he doesn't come back? He's not like his dad. Or his brother. He needs us."

"He'll come back," she says, more to herself than to Johnny. "He's fine. I'm sure he's just cooling off somewhere, like last time. You know how he gets."

"But what if he's not? What if it's not like last time?"

"Hey," Ophelia says, voice soft. "Thought I was supposed to be the paranoid one while you're the one always reassuring me about everything."

That gets a light chuckle out of him. "Oh, how the tables have turned." He sighs again. "Talking it out with you helps. Thanks, Phe. Think I'll be able to sleep now."

She smiles. "I'm glad. Night Johnny. Love you."

"Love you too, Phe. Sweet dreams."

But that night, Ophelia doesn't dream.

Going to Johnny's right after school has always been Ophelia's preference. Anything to get away from that house, from those cold and unforgiving stone walls, from the constant reminder of death that greets her every time she sets foot on the property. Johnny's house is a stark contrast to her childhood home, to which she had always looked at through rose-colored lenses, until little by little, that once-familiar rose tint had faded away completely.

But Johnny's house, which has always been warm and welcoming, now has a guest banging furiously at the door, the lighthearted atmosphere dissolving into an unsettling tone. Ophelia and Johnny stop in the middle of doing their homework, exchanging quick flashes of concern as Jenny Smith walks toward the front door and peeks out from the eyehole.

The knocks are accompanied by a roaring voice, whose hollers are likely be heard from across the neighborhood, stretching to even the furthest corners of the town.

"SMITH! SMITH OPEN UP! SMITH I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"

"Well, no doubt that's Buzz," Jenny calls out, a look of insurmountable exasperation written all over her face.

Pollination Tech#9 tilts his head in curiosity from the sofa he is sitting on, placing the book that he was reading squarely beside his lap. "Oh. Does he wish to fight me again?"

"I don't know. Probably? There's always something ticking off that man." Jenny frowns at the thought, and then points to him in a scolding sort of way. "Paul. You're not fighting him again."

Johnny's dad merely shrugs in response. "It doesn't matter. I predict that I'd win again."

"Paul."

"We should answer the door and see what he wants," Pollination Tech#9 says firmly. "We don't wish to aggravate him even further. That would certainly destroy any chance we have at making amends."

Jenny rolls her eyes. "Right. Because Buzz Grunt is the type of guy you can rationalize with in a calm and dignified manner."

"If you won't answer the door, I will." He begins to rise from his seat when Jenny sticks out her hand, as if to interrupt him.

"No, no," she says, shaking her head. "Let me do it."

"But you dislike interacting with him immensely," Pollination Tech#9 points out innocently. Nonetheless, he simply blinks at her and sits back down.

"Yeah," Jenny sighs. "Yeah, I do."

Jenny slowly reaches for the handle, attempting to open the door by just a crack. Buzz overpowers her immediately, plowing his way through the door as it swings out and slams against the wall, forcing Jenny to take several steps back. Fingers curled up into fists, Jenny begins to open her mouth in protest of Buzz barging in, but without hesitation, Buzz charges towards her husband, who remains casually seated on the sofa.

"You!" He hisses right in Pollination Tech#9's face, spit flying and all. "You tell me where my boys are right now!"

"What in the world are you talking about?" Jenny intervenes, stomping her way over and inserting herself between Buzz and her husband. Johnny reaches for Ophelia's hand under the dining room table out of pure reflex, and she reciprocates the gesture without a second thought, squeezing his hand as firmly as she can.

"Lady, you better step away!" Buzz snarls, baring his teeth. "Step away right now!"

"You better back off right now or I'll call the cops on you for trespassing on my property!" Jenny says, tone rising to the challenge.

"Mom? Mom, what's going on?"

Jill's soft, scared voice brings everyone down several notches, the tension still lingering but not as intense as it once was. Jill clutches the handrail of the staircase, peeking down at the commotion from above, the look on her face twisted in fear. Jenny places a hand to her hip and rubs her forehead with the other, shooting Buzz a piercing glare and canting her head in the direction of Jill, as if to scold him.

Buzz clears his throat and speaks, his voice much lower than it once was, yet still retaining that same, characteristic gruffness that it always has and always will. "Nothing," he says to Jill. "Nothing. Everything's… fine."

"That's right, sweetheart," Jenny says. "Now you go to your room and finish your homework, alright?"

Jill nods. "Okay, Mom."

"That's my girl."

When Jill's footsteps reach the top of the staircase and the door to her room finally shuts, Buzz releases a frustrated sigh and takes a few steps back, arms furiously crossed against his puffed out chest. Pollination Tech#9 stands up and places his hand around Jenny's waist, which seems to placate her for the moment. Ophelia and Johnny take deep breaths, unable to focus on their homework as they observe the confrontation from far across the room.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Jenny says in an almost defeated tone. "Can you tell me why you were so hellbent on storming into my home?"

"My boys…" Buzz begins, seeming to choke on his words. "They're missing."

Ophelia's eyes shoot wide open, and she glances at Johnny fearfully, his expression matching hers. Because it's not just Ripp who's gone. It's Tank and Buck too. She couldn't really care less about Tank, and she knows Johnny hates him too, but the fact that all the Grunt boys are missing shoots off a warning flare in the back of her mind.

Ophelia holds her breath as a feeling of restlessness and dread overtake her, her head spinning in all directions as it tries to deny the words she had just heard, while her heart plummets further into her chest as it tries to accept them.

"Oh… my." Jenny swallows, her eyes falling to the floor briefly before returning her gaze to Buzz. "I'm sorry to hear that, Buzz."

"Are you?" Buzz snaps, and he's back to that familiar aggression that saturates his tone. "Because I bet you that they're missing due to all these damn aliens abducting people left and right!" He points to Pollination Tech#9 in disgust, hands trembling. "This is why your kind shouldn't be allowed here. All you freaks do is ruin the lives of good, honest folk."

"Plenty of people who aren't aliens have done much worse," Jenny says matter-of-factly while maintaining her cool. "And everybody who gets abducted always returns. My brothers would know."

"Your brothers are filthy alien-lovers, just like you," Buzz retorts. His eyes briefly dart toward Ophelia, face in a dangerous scowl.

Jenny takes a moment to compose herself before mustering up a reply. "I think you should leave now," she says. Her voice is low and calm, yet a threatening undertone is evident by her darkened stare. Jenny gestures to the door, gaze not flinching in the slightest. "Don't come back until you can hold a conversation that doesn't end with you insulting me and my family."

Buzz Grunt grunts, but he doesn't say anything else. His grimace lingers on Jenny before flicking over to Pollination Tech#9, then to Johnny, then to Ophelia, until he finally turns his back in a haughty, self-contained rage. He marches out the front door, which has remained open all this time, throwing back a few defiant glares before finally disappearing around the corner of the street.

"That man is a piece of work!" Jenny cries out into the arms of her husband, who holds her firmly in response. "No wonder Lyla went up and left him!"

"Jenny…" Pollination Tech#9 warns.

"Yeah, Paul. Yeah, I know."

Jenny sighs, glancing over at Johnny and Ophelia from across the room. She walks over to them, taking an adjacent seat on the dining room table, eyes flashing concern. "I'm sorry you two had to see that. Johnny, you stay away from him, alright? You too, Ophelia. I know I'm not your mom, but that man seems to have it out for everybody these days…"

"He's not really fond of my aunt," Ophelia admits with a shaky breath. "Because of—"

"Right," Jenny stops her there, knowing what Ophelia was about to say before she had the need to say it. "At any rate, be safe out there. With the Grunt boys missing, who knows what the hell's going on."

Ophelia freezes, the words hitting her with much more force than they had before, as if hearing them a second time really cements it as reality, as if the repetition is a reminder to what she thought she could bury in the back of her mind. But if Ophelia knows one thing, if she knows anything at all from living with Olive Specter for all these years, it's that there is nothing in this world that ever stays buried.

"I know," she finally manages to say, the words nearly getting caught at the back of her throat. "Seems like there's always something going on in Strangetown."

The Grunt boys aren't the only ones who are missing.

Gossip spreads like brushfire amongst this rural desert town, and word gets out quickly that notorious scientist Circe Beaker has vanished without a trace, along with one of Johnny's uncles, Lazlo Curious. The sudden and mysterious disappearances of several community members rapidly sends the remaining residents into a downwards spiral, with a call to action at the parking lot of 88 Road to Nowhere fronted by none other than General Buzz Grunt himself.

The whole neighborhood seems to turn up for the affair, with everyone collectively on edge at the recent turn of events. Apprehensive glances are shared all around, with heads turning and eyes shifting as if they are all waiting to see if anyone else is found to be missing, as if they are all waiting to see who will be next. But people here aren't used to things being like this, despite the fact that odd things happen all the time around here.

Strangetown just isn't the place where people disappear.

It's the place where missing people go to be found.

Ophelia takes to Johnny's side. Meanwhile, her Aunt Olive hangs back, garnering some distance from the crowd, a look of intrigue plastered across her face as she watches the rest of the town feeding into the paranoia, while she retains that air of superiority about her which she always seems to possess.

"I'm worried about what's going to happen next," Jenny Smith says in an offhand comment to her husband. "Most would write Buzz off in a heartbeat, but people are scared. I bet he could work a mob if it came down to it."

"It is a bit concerning," Pollination Tech#9 admits with a hardened stare. "He is a general. He certainly has it in him to 'rally the troops,' so to speak."

Ophelia tugs at Johnny's sleeve. "Maybe we shouldn't be here…" she says. "It doesn't seem safe."

Johnny scratches the back of his neck and releases an elongated sigh. "Don't know, Phe," he says, squeezing her hand. "Feels like it's better to be here with everyone else than to hide at home and make ourselves look guilty. If we didn't show, Buzz would've used that to spin some narrative."

"Suppose you're right," she says. "But I don't have to like it."

Johnny gives her a halfhearted shoulder bump. "Ah. You never like it when I'm right," he points out. This elicits a soft chuckle from her, but it is cut short by the roaring voice of Buzz Grunt that seems to rip apart the sky itself.

"THIS HAS GONE ON LONG ENOUGH!"

Buzz perches himself atop a chair, towering over everyone else with his commanding presence. His face is distorted into a permanent sneer, the veins on his forehead bulging out as if they were about to pop. Sweat shines on his brow through this midday desert heat, trickling down his beady, reddened face.

"Are we gonna keep sitting on our asses while good folks get kidnapped by those freaks from the stars?" he continues, each word dripping off of him like venom as he stares down Johnny and his family. "The Smiths should all be shot out into outer space till they bring us back our families!"

Loki Beaker steps forward from the crowd and turns to face everyone. "I bet the Curious brothers have something to do with all this!" he says with an indignant puff, pointing an accusing finger at Vidcund Curious. "Always observing things from beyond this world. I bet they've been in cahoots with the aliens all this time, plotting our doom!"

Gasps and murmurs are exchanged amongst the crowd, and through the corner of her eye, Ophelia catches Jenny Smith stricken with a mixture of anger and fear. Pollination Tech#9 gives Jenny a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but it does nothing to ease the look on her face.

Loki sneers. "Not to mention," he adds, "their 'science' is utter buffoonery. A mockery of modern achievement."

Vidcund breaks off from the center, hands tightened into fists as he grows dangerously close to Loki. "Our science is valid and has more merit in a single sentence than your inhumane and illegal experiments have in an entire lifetime's worth of journals!" he spits out.

"As if you're a man of merit," Loki says, rolling his eyes. He then smirks. "Circe would most certainly agree with me."

Vidcund lunges for Loki, but Pascal intercepts him, holding him back just enough to pry his brother away from a fight he was sure to lose. Loki crosses his arms, satisfied at the result.

"May I remind you that your logic is flawed," Pascal says to Loki, exasperated. "Our brother is also missing. We wouldn't be 'in cahoots' with hurting anyone, but especially not one of our own."

"He's part of it, I'm sure," Loki huffs. "It's all part of your grand master plan."

Pascal shakes his head in disbelief. "What plan?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Do elaborate."

"You guys are totally dumb for thinking aliens caused this shit," Jessica Ebadi pipes out from afar. "Olive Specter definitely killed them all. Just like she probably murdered everyone else who died on her property. She's suspicious. That old lady gives me the creeps."

Olive laughs softly, deciding to chime in. "I've already got one person named Jessica Ebadi buried in my yard," she insinuates, but says nothing further.

It's enough to shut up Jessica, whose face is now a few shades paler than it once was. If it wasn't for Olive Specter's reputation and terrifying calmness, more whispers and hearsay would likely be catching flame. But instead, Olive's words are met with an eerie silence and an elongated pause, the atmosphere so thick with tension only a sword could slice through it.

"God, why," Ophelia mutters under her breath, wishing for nothing more than to stop existing in this very moment. Johnny gives her hand another squeeze, but it isn't enough to shake away the feeling of dread that always happens whenever Ophelia lets the rumors of Aunt Olive get to her head.

"I also think aliens are responsible…"

Everyone is taken aback, redirecting their attention towards the female voice that had just spoken. The source is none other than Strangetown's Lady in Red, its Arcane Maiden, its Crowning Jewel that adds to the neighborhood's rich tapestry of secrets.

The beautiful, the infamous, the Bella Goth.

"The aliens… they did something to me," Bella continues, with a little more courage this time around. "And I can't remember what. I can't remember anything. Aliens could've done to the others what they did to me."

Esther Tse, local paper girl, scoffs. "You're not even from here," she says. "Trying to use aliens as a scapegoat, deflecting the attention off of yourself. The Smiths have been here for years. No trouble from them as far as I've seen. They've got nothing to prove. "

Ophelia and Johnny shoot each other quick smiles, a much needed surge of relief helping ease the apprehension that has been deeply rooted since the beginning of this impromptu assembly.

"But you've only been here for what? A few months?" Esther continues to address Bella, cocking her head. "People around here keep pretty close tabs on everyone else. But people around here hardly see you. We don't know you. So, what do you do with all that time spent hiding away from the rest of the town, Bella?"

The crowd mumbles, many nodding in agreement with Esther's reasoning. A look of horror strikes Bella Goth's face as the people surrounding her begin to throw expressions of skepticism and disdain pertaining to the integrity of her character.

"For all we know," Esther says, "you're the reason behind the disappearances. Everything was just fine before you showed up." She raises her eyebrows, as if to challenge her. "Face it. You're the odd one out, Bella. And that's saying something here in Strangetown."

Stricken with panic, Bella tries to muster up a defense, albeit disheveled, "I didn't—I'm not—" She stammers on her words, completely rattled by how perceptions have quickly flipped.

"Now, hold on!" Buzz Grunt calls out to the masses in an attempt to regain their attention. "This young lady's done nothing wrong!"

Jan Tellerman, local mail carrier, releases a sardonic laugh. "Of course you'd say that," she sneers. Then, to everyone else, "He probably has a thing for her."

"He's biased as hell!" Randy Kody, local exterminator, hollers out. He turns and addresses the rest of the crowd. "Why are we listening to this bozo anyways?"

A large chunk of the townsfolk suddenly rallies behind Randy, the herd-like encouragement taking over as people shake their fists and cry out and have adrenaline-fueled anger spill from every inch of their blood.

"Yeah, who put the dumb jock in charge?"

"Buzz Grunt's all washed up!"

"Who does he think he is, trying to intimidate us?"

"Someone push him off the chair!"

"Have PT9 kick his ass!"

Jenny Smith tilts her head in amusement at her husband, who merely observes the ensuing dethronement of Buzz Grunt with a furrowed brow and a hand to his chin, deep in thought. Ophelia and Johnny exchange pleasantly surprised shrugs, while Jill clings closer to her mom, hugging her side.

"Think this is our cue to leave," Jenny says. "Don't you agree?"

Pollination Tech#9 offers a curt nod. "It would seem so."

Ophelia takes off with the Smith family, leaving her aunt to enjoy the spectacle before her. Against her better judgment, she takes one last glimpse over her shoulder as Johnny tugs her along, her line of sight accidentally locking with Buzz Grunt's bitter stare. He shouts something at her, but he is too far away, too drowned out by the rest of the crowd for her to hear. But she has a pretty good idea of what it could be.

So she turns around, and she doesn't look back.

That night, Ophelia garners a scrap of courage and confronts her Aunt Olive.

"There isn't any truth to those rumors… is there?" she asks, instantly regretting the question the moment it passes through her lips.

But Aunt Olive, cryptic as ever, says, "Well, Ophelia. You know what they say about rumors."

And leaves it at that.

A few days later, 94 Road to Nowhere—home to the Strangetown Spa, home to rambunctious children running amok during the day, home to rowdy teens loitering at night—vanishes. Completely. No traces of wreckage, of ruin, no gaping hole in the ground where the pool once was, where the pool should be.

It's just… gone.

As if it was never even there to begin with.

Word catches fast like it always does, and soon the whole town gathers at the vacant lot. Dumbfounded looks are slapped across everyone's faces, and not even Buzz Grunt has words for what is—or isn't—before him.

"Aliens couldn't have done this," Ophelia says offhandedly to Johnny, eyes wide. "There's no way. There just isn't an explanation for something like this."

But the roar of Buzz Grunt carries over her voice. "Only aliens could've done this!" he yells, fists shaking in the air. "Wake up, Strangetown! Who else would have the technology to pull this shit off? Certainly not us decent folk!" He looks at Pollination Tech#9 right in the eyes. "Not the ones born and raised here," he adds, his glare unwavering.

"Nobody cares about what you have to say!" Randy Kody shouts from the tailend of the crowd, accruing many nods of approval.

"Somebody shut him up already!"

"Yeah, buzz off!"

Johnny nudges Ophelia with the crook of his elbow. "Hey," he says. "At least the whole town has our backs."

Ophelia shrugs, not entirely convinced of the sentiment. "Think it has less to do with them on our side and more to do with straight up roasting Buzz."

Johnny laughs and pulls her closer with his hand to her waist. Ophelia leans her head against his, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath and just letting herself become lost in the warmth he has to offer. This past week has been a nonstop rollercoaster, one that just keeps stretching out further, as if there is no end in sight, as if there is nowhere to go except worse from where it already is.

Johnny is the only solace, the only constant that Ophelia has. So she'll cling to him as much as she can, because she doesn't know where this rollercoaster will take her, because she doesn't know if she'll be okay by the end of this ride.

The rest of the afternoon spent at the empty lot is—more or less—the same nonsensical, directionless echo chamber as the one that had preceded it. There is no definitive conclusion to arrive at, no logical consensus among the townsfolk that can be drawn from context. There are only more wild accusations, more mob mentality, more fire fueling the already burning predispositions that run deep throughout the roots of this town. People are stuck in their ways, and recent events have only accentuated these convictions.

At least there's Johnny.

There will always be Johnny.

"I hope Ripp's alright, wherever he is," Ophelia murmurs, her voice almost lost amidst the animosity of the crowd. "I want to believe that he chose to leave. I don't believe that. But I'd like to."

Johnny wraps his arms around her from behind, holding her as if she is mere moments from slipping away, as if she too will disappear, just like Ripp, like Circe, like Lazlo.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Me too."

Ophelia dismisses the headaches as stress.

With every new day comes another mysterious disappearance, another missing persons report to be filed away and thrown into the rising stack with all the others. Every new day brings another angry cry, another weeping face, another strike of terror to sweep across this dwindling town. And every new day keeps the remaining population on their toes, keeps everybody wondering who will be the latest victim, dreading if they are the ones to be next.

So when the headaches hit her and hit her hard, Ophelia doesn't second guess it. Doesn't think about it at all. They're just there. A nuisance. Just another thing to deal with.

Johnny has told her numerous times to see a doctor, but Ophelia isn't quite sure if there are any of them left in this decaying community. So she puts it off and tucks it away in the back of her mind, and suddenly she isn't the only one in Strangetown experiencing on-again, off-again migraines. Johnny's dad, Aunt Olive, and even Buzz Grunt have all mentioned having headaches at some point, and that's only to name a few.

It seems like everywhere Ophelia goes, another fresh face is caught in the same aching hell that she's in, another who has fallen prey to the latest unnerving trend to strike this town. It could be an outbreak of some emerging disease, could be a symptom of burgeoning mass hysteria, of everyone's fear and anger siphoning off each other like desperate mosquitoes.

Or, simply put, it could just be stress.

Because everyone, including Ophelia, is completely and utterly stressed.

But with each rising sun, the pain hits her with more intensity, lingers longer than the day before, causing her head to throb so much that she can't think straight. It's as if her thoughts are jumbled lines, tangling together in a knot so twisted that it can never be unwoven. And with each rising sun, with each pulsing headache pounding away, it becomes more and more difficult to focus on everyday things, becomes more and more difficult to simply live.

But Ophelia is convinced that it's just stress.

It has to be.

The Specter family dining table is always quiet at meals. Aunt Olive has never been one to talk, and Ophelia has never been one to listen. But tonight, Aunt Olive stops in the middle of eating, looking wistful as she leans back in her chair, as she hums quietly to herself, and her eyes lock onto Ophelia's.

Tonight, Aunt Olive talks.

And tonight, Ophelia listens.

"Your birthday," Aunt Olive begins, "I don't know why. But somehow this memory keeps playing out in my head."

Ophelia doesn't say anything. She just puts down her fork and stares directly at Aunt Olive, who doesn't even seem to be paying attention to her at this point. She looks distant. Detached. As if she isn't looking at Ophelia, but looking through Ophelia. As if her mind is elsewhere, beyond here, beyond what is right in front of her.

"I remember your parents trying so hard to take a nice picture of you and Johnny," Aunt Olive continues. "But you two were so busy shoving cake in each other's faces they could never get that perfect picture that they really wanted." She sighs. "Where does the time go?"

Ophelia swallows, her spine becoming rigid as she barely manages to squeak out the words that follow.

"That… never happened," she says warily. "Mom and Dad died before me and Johnny got together." Her voice softens as she cants her head to the side. "You know that… right?"

Ophelia's words catch Aunt Olive off guard, as if she wasn't expecting that to be her reaction to her fragile attempt at bonding. Aunt Olive's eyebrows crease together in a tight frown, mouth hung slightly ajar. It's as if she is unable to process what Ophelia had said as truth, as if she is unable to accept the reality that her mind is slipping.

"Oh," is all she can manage as a response, which is saying something, considering that Aunt Olive is known for her dry wit. She squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment and then inhales a sharp breath, shaking her head. "Think old age is finally getting the best of me, isn't it?"

Ophelia nods along, but there's something in the back of her mind that just doesn't seem right, something deep inside her gut that just doesn't seem to settle.

"Don't start going senile on me," Ophelia half jokes, unsure of how her aunt will take it.

But Aunt Olive chuckles lightly, not faltered by her niece's jest.

"Well, Ophelia," she says, "I should hope the Reaper would take me before I'm given that chance."

When Johnny's sister goes missing, there is a certain spark that dies within him from that moment onward, a certain light in his eyes that Ophelia knows she will never see again in her lifetime. And it's not just him. Of course it's not just him. His mom, his dad, everyone acknowledges that Jill being gone means that there's a slim to none chance that they will ever see her again.

Because with the way things are going right now, going missing in Strangetown is as good as a death sentence.

At this point, other residents are too preoccupied in their own grief to take notice of yet another missing person. After all, people disappear every day that it's like clockwork around here, so much that it would be more shocking to go a day without someone going missing.

Only one other person outside of the Smith family—aside from Ophelia—finds out that Jill Smith is another checkmark on Strangetown's growing list of missing persons. And that person appears at the doorstep of the Smith home, hands folded together, head hung in defeat.

Jenny Smith answers the door, but wastes no time in keeping things brief.

"We don't have time for you," she says, making no attempt to mask the irritation in her tone. "What do you want?"

At that, Buzz Grunt stiffens up a bit, his face scrunching up as a defensive reflex. But he swallows his pride and wipes his brow, speaking firmly but not curtly. "I'm sorry," he finally says after a few seconds of long, awkward silence. "Heard about your little girl."

Jenny sighs. "Yes."

Buzz shifts his weight. "Sorry for…" Another pause. "Sorry for accusing your family. Don't know what the hell's going on around here. But I'm sure you folks have nothing to do with it."

"We never did," Jenny points out abruptly.

"Right. Well." Buzz clears his throat. "Hope she comes back."

"Yes," Jenny says. Then, softer, she adds, "I hope your boys come back too."

Before turning around and walking away, Buzz gives her a slight nod.

She reciprocates the gesture.

Later that evening, Johnny asks Ophelia if she could stay the night.

"I'm just… I'm worried," he says, eyes soft and pleading. "Worried that if I let you go tonight, you'll never come back. Worried that if I fall asleep, I'll wake up and you won't be there. That you'll disappear too." He sniffs, wiping away his tears and tugging on her arm gently. "I can't lose anyone else."

Ophelia nods. "Hey, of course I'll stay," she reassures him gently. "Let me just call my aunt and let her know I won't be coming home tonight."

Aunt Olive never picks up the phone.

Ophelia didn't think that 13 Dead End Lane could get any lonelier than it already is, but even she catches herself missing Aunt Olive's quiet presence lurking amongst these stone walls from time to time. Admittedly, there is a sense of relief that supplements not living with a potential serial killer anymore, but Ophelia finds being the only one amidst the eerie silence far more haunting, strangely enough.

A squeaking gate at the brink of dusk immediately rattles Ophelia's nerves. Adrenaline shoots through her veins as she tiptoes her way outside, stealing a glimpse of the intruder through a crack in the front door. Her muscles tense up as the figure makes their way into the courtyard—the graveyard really—and stops at the foot of a tombstone.

Curious, Ophelia relaxes and walks out toward the trespasser, crossing her arms and shuddering at the sudden desert breeze. She squints her eyes as she approaches, unable to wrap her head around why this person is here of all places, of all the times to be. Her eyes widen in shock as soon as she is able to discern the figure in the distance.

It's Bella.

Bella Goth.

"What are you doing here?" Ophelia asks as she approaches her from behind.

Bella jolts a little, taken aback by the sudden presence of another person. "It's funny," she says, overlooking the courtyard with wistful eyes. "I know these people. I know every single one of these people who have been buried here."

"That's impossible," Ophelia points out. "They all died before you came here."

"See, that's the thing," Bella says, nodding. "I know that. So why do I have memories of these people? Why do I remember people I should've never known?" She winces, shutting her eyes briefly and rubbing her fingers to her temples. "It doesn't make any sense."

It's the first real conversation Ophelia has had with Bella Goth, and it's the first time she has gotten a look at who Bella Goth really is.

Turns out, she's just as messed up as anyone else in this forsaken desert town.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," Bella continues. "But I swear that I'm Johnny and Jill Smith's aunt. I'm fully convinced that I am."

Ophelia snorts at the thought. "Yeah," she says. "You're definitely not."

Bella shakes her head. "God," she says, releasing a bitter laugh. "I don't even know who I am."

She sobs into her hands, nearly crumpling to the ground but picking herself back up before she does. Ophelia doesn't know what to do aside from standing there awkwardly as the minute drags on, as the sound of Bella's wailing fills the gloomy night air.

Then, she stops. A heavy sigh escapes her, and she turns to face Ophelia under the shadow of the moonlight.

"I feel like such a fake," Bella finally says. "Like I don't belong anywhere."

"You belong here," Ophelia says. "Trust me."

Bella sniffs, hugging her arms closely to her chest. "How do you know?"

Ophelia offers a small smile, but she isn't convinced that Bella can actually see it amidst the dark.

"Because anyone can belong in Strangetown."

It seems as if there are only a handful of people left these days.

This fact is only hammered in further when Ophelia goes grocery shopping, the once lively supermarket filled with the bustle of a tight-knit community now barren, like a ghost town. Right now it is only her and the cashier occupying this empty space, when normally on Sundays, this place would be packed from wall to wall.

It feels wrong.

It doesn't feel like home anymore.

Ophelia freezes momentarily when the door swings open, and she catches a glimpse of Buzz Grunt entering the vicinity. At first, she decides to carry on and mind her own business, but that quickly dissipates once she notices him approaching her in a begrudging fashion. She stops, cocking her head to find him standing in front of her awkwardly, that typical gruff expression wired onto his face as he seems to search for the right words to say.

"You knew my boy," he finally says, but doesn't add anything after that.

Ophelia takes a deep breath, a surge of anger hitting her like a sequence of drums. "Ripp was my friend," she says, feeling a pang of guilt for mentioning him in past tense, knowing that it solidifies that he is gone and probably never coming back. "He had a lot of heart. Was super funny, too. Had a killer smile to match his killer laugh."

Buzz Grunt nods, his lips twitching slightly. He remains silent as his brows furrow, eyes squinting.

"Ripp was such a good person," Ophelia manages after a choking pause. "I was lucky to be his friend." She swallows, stifling the urge to cry in front of Buzz Grunt of all people. "And I miss him. I miss him a lot."

She doesn't tell him how much Ripp hated him, how much he feared him, doesn't tell him how many times Ripp confided in her and Johnny about wanting to get away from his home. She doesn't tell him how much pressure he placed on his son, how his irrational expectations caused cracks in Ripp's smiles, how it left a heavy burden that suffocated his heart. Instead, Ophelia just allows Buzz to sink further into the guilt that his iron first had created, just stands there watching as realization strikes him like a punch to the face.

If there's one thing Ophelia knows for certain, it's that Buzz Grunt will never know how incredible his son truly was. He can hear about it all day long from her and Johnny, but he'll never truly understand it. Not really.

And Buzz knows this. He may not have known it then, but it sure as hell is dawning upon him now. Ophelia can see it written all over his face, can see the mixture of regret and sorrow hitting him all at once.

Good.

He didn't deserve to know Ripp anyway, and he doesn't deserve to now.

"I should've been softer on him," Buzz adds after a long wave of silence. "Should've paid more attention. And to Buck too. Guess I was too focused on the bigger picture that I forgot about what really matters."

Ophelia doesn't know why Buzz is telling her this. Perhaps he thinks she'll give him solace through empty words. Perhaps he thinks she'll tell him that it's all okay, that he did a good job as a father and that Ripp understood that deep down inside. Perhaps he thinks she'll find common ground with him, that she'll sympathize with him, that she'll somehow give him the comfort he needs that he cannot find for himself.

But she won't.

She'd never.

"Yeah," Ophelia finally says, pinning Buzz straight in the eye with a hardened stare. "You screwed up."

And with that, she walks away.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

Ophelia asks Johnny this question right as they halt in their tracks, standing on the sidewalk and overlooking the empty lot of 94 Road to Nowhere as dimly lit stars hang above them in the night sky. Johnny squeezes her hand and bumps her shoulder softly, leaning his head against hers.

"Of course," Johnny says with ease.

"Yeah?" she asks, almost as if she doesn't believe him.

"Well, yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "Why do you ask?"

Ophelia shakes her head, biting down on her bottom lip and resisting the urge to break down right in front of him.

"Because I don't."

Tears begin to slide down her face, and soon all Ophelia can see are shapeless blurs. When Johnny wraps his arms around her in a fierce embrace, she sobs into the crook of his shoulder as she tries desperately to fight the tears, to fight the headaches, to fight to simply remember.

Whenever Ophelia attempts to open her mouth to speak, all she can manage is an incoherent stutter, and it's so damn frustrating. Everything is so damn frustrating. To not remember how they met, to not remember how they got together. To lose that feeling of their first laugh, their first hug, their first kiss. It's as if her mind is at war within itself, as if her memories are being chipped away from inside of her until there is nothing remaining for her but an empty husk of a soul.

"Why can't I remember?" Ophelia chokes out, her voice desperate and pleading. Johnny's grip on her tightens as she coughs and sniffles, but it does nothing to ease the panic rising in her chest. "I just want to remember. God. It feels like I'm losing my mind."

Johnny plants a small kiss on the top of her forehead, smiling sadly. He may not know it, but Ophelia can sense it. There's something happening to her, to them, to everyone. It's one massive ripple effect that reaches even the furthest corners of Strangetown, that no one can escape, that no one could have ever seen coming.

Something's happening to this town, and it's going to tear them apart.

It's going to tear everyone apart.

"It's alright, Phe," Johnny finally says. "I'll remember enough for the both of us."

"No," Ophelia whispers. "No, you won't." She pulls away from him gently, taking a step forward on the empty lot as if it is sacred ground. Ophelia then turns back to glance over at Johnny, and she shakes her head. "Soon you'll forget too. And then we'll have nothing left. Not even the memories."

Ophelia inhales a jagged breath, arms folded across her chest, head hanging low. "Johnny. I'm scared," she admits quietly. Then, with more panic in her voice, "What the hell is happening?"

Johnny pulls her into his arms once more and presses his head against hers, sighing softly. "I don't know," he says, squeezing her more. "I really wish I could tell you that everything's gonna be alright. I wish I could say it'll all work out in the end."

"But you can't," Ophelia says, trembling as she speaks. "I know." She sighs. "I think…" A pause. "I think our time is almost up. I don't know when, but I think it's soon. Like the world is ending."

When Ophelia pulls back to look into Johnny's eyes, she finds herself getting lost. She searches for something, anything, as if their gravitational pull will somehow have the answers she is looking for. And as he stares back at her, gaze not faltering, for the briefest of moments, just looking at him is enough.

For this one, fleeting piece of time—his eyes, his presence—it's enough.

"Hey, who knows what's really going on?" Johnny says, trying to keep his tone of voice light and playful. "Maybe this isn't the end of the world. Maybe this is only the beginning. And maybe things will go back to the way they were before, as if none of this ever happened."

Ophelia shakes her head. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"No," he admits as he cups Ophelia's cheek in his hand, gently caressing the side of her face with the tip of his thumb. "Not really. But maybe there's another universe out there where things turn out alright. And in that alternate universe we're still together, and everyone's still around. And there's no crazy things happening like missing people, or disappearing buildings, or memory loss, or mass headaches."

Ophelia wants to laugh at that as much as she wants to cry. "Yeah?" she asks, feeling hopeful in spite of herself. "You think so?"

She knows it's a stupid question, that all she can expect at this point is false assurance. She knows that this reality, the only one she has ever known, is the only one that matters, because it's the only one she will ever have. But a part of her, a small part of her—one that's buried deep within herself— wants to believe it. She wants to believe in something. She has to. She needs to.

Because what else is left for her in this dying world?

Johnny shrugs, and then he yanks her into his arms, holding her closely and fiercely. He sighs, and he whispers against her ear.

"We can dream, can't we?"

Ophelia buries her face into Johnny's neck, tears sliding down her cheeks as she stifles her cries, and his tightened grip makes her feel safe, albeit transient. She can feel herself shaking as Johnny holds her, so she lets herself melt in his embrace, lets herself get lost in a moment that she doesn't know how long it will last.

She can feel herself slipping away, can feel herself fading in and out of existence, as if her time in this world means nothing in the grand cosmic scheme, as if there is an eternity out there waiting for her and she is about to cross the threshold to reach it.

So Ophelia just closes her eyes.

And she dreams.

Fin.