Beast

The familiar scent of lasagna filled the kitchen, a comforting aroma that usually signaled the end of another ordinary school day. My mother, bustling between the stove and the table, called out, "Annalise, go wash your hands, you're just in time for dinner!" Upstairs, I peeled off my school dress, exchanging it for the worn comfort of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Downstairs, the clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of my parents' voices were the usual soundtrack to our evenings.

Then, my mother's voice, bright with anticipation, cut through the mundane, "Annalise, your birthday is in one week's time, is there anything specific that you want?"

I shrugged, a spoonful of lasagna halfway to my mouth. "Not really."

A moment later, my phone buzzed on my bed, a stark, digital interruption. Unknown Number: 'The countdown begins.' I frowned, a prickle of unease unsettling the familiar comfort of my room. What countdown? A prank? I dismissed it, turning back to my homework, but the cryptic message lingered, an unwelcome shadow at the edges of my thoughts.