I'm sprawled out on my bed, mindlessly scrolling through my social media. It's a mess, with blankets dangling off the side, and it matches the rest of my room perfectly: pillows and clothes carelessly strewn around the room, books stacked precariously all over the floor, a backpack slumped against the door. Organization obviously isn't my thing.

I sigh, discarding my phone, and rest my head on my arms, staring at the annoyingly bright yellow wall. It's the same as every week- nothing interesting. I have nothing better to do, though, except for listen to the steady pitter-patter of the rain hitting my window. Well, unless you count the mountain of homework I'm currently procrastinating on. I don't, of course.

I lie there, contemplating my questionable past decisions (why had I thought yellow and blue triangles were a good idea?) and drumming my fingers on my phone screen, until I'm suddenly aware that I'm tapping along to a song. It's faint, but loud enough that I know it's coming from somewhere inside the house. I glance at my old analog clock. It's two, almost time for her to get off of work. Maybe she's home early.

I slide off the bed. "Mom?" I call, peering out my doorway. My only answer is the notes floating down to me. The notes are high, the melody sweet yet eerie- and it's mysteriousness only makes it even more so. I check the kitchen and living room, but they're empty. Frowning, I make my way up the stairs.

The music's volume increases with every step I take, and my trepidation only grows with it. I pause when I realize where the music is coming from- Mateo's room. My brother, who's at college halfway across the country. A pang of sadness hits me as I think of his kind smile, but I shove it away and push the door open.

I step into the room, shivering as my bare feet touch the chilly floorboards. I see it immediately: an old wooden music box lying on the desk, its lid open and a dainty ballerina rotating in the center. The music continues to play as I cross the room and examine her closer. Maybe four inches tall, she's poised with her right foot resting on her other knee. Her arms are held out in front of her, forming a circle.

The music unexpectedly turns screechy and dies, even as the ballerina continues her slow turn. I shiver and take a step back. If this was a movie, this is exactly when everyone in the audience would be yelling at me to get out. I suddenly have a strong urge to check what's behind me. There's thankfully no murder clown creeping towards me.

When I look back, the ballerina is just beginning to rotate towards me. Something's wrong, I realize. She's moving out of her pose. Her foot moves to rest on the ground, and as she slowly completes her final turn, the glint of something metal in her hand catches my eye. A knife.

She smiles sweetly at me as she steps off the platform. She makes her way toward me, her movements fluid and graceful. I can't help but notice the incredible detail etched into her face. Her features give her the appearance of being a tiny delicate person.

I try to do something, anything- run, scream, cry- but I'm glued to my spot. I focus on her eyes. They surprise me- chilly, enigmatic, unwavering in their resolve. And getting so, so close.

They're the last thing I see before everything goes dark.
. . .
I'm greeted by an eyeball-scorching yellow. I blink from under the blankets, disoriented. When did I go to bed? I try to remember what happened earlier, but everything feels distant and fuzzy. I give up after a while.

My eyes drift across my room. I notice my backpack has fallen over and my supplies are spilling out, but I'm too snug and toasty to pick them up. Instead, I focus on my clock. It takes me a moment to read the time: six o'clock. I frown. Mom should've been home by now.

Mom, who I'd been looking for yesterday when I heard the music.

I scramble out of bed, getting tangled in the blankets and tripping in the process. Rubbing my elbow, I rush upstairs to Mateo's room. Belatedly, I realize I should probably have grabbed something to defend myself with. I grab the first thing I see- an empty vase. It's not much, but it'll have to do.

Holding my makeshift weapon out in front of me, I inch the door open and peek into the room. Nothing. Confused, I push the door open all the way and take a hesitant step inside, hoping nothing is ready to jump out at me. It doesn't change the scene: the desk is now empty, the music box gone. The ballerina is nowhere to be seen.

I leave the room, making sure to close the door behind me. I don't know where she's disappeared to and it probably won't trap her anyways, but I feel safer knowing the door isn't wide open. I proceed to check the rest of the house, closing each door once I'm done. Holding the vase tightly, I step outside.

The light hits me first. It's warm and sunny, without a single cloud in the sky, and I have to squint and shield my eyes with my hand. I'm disoriented- what happened to the heavy rain? And then- maybe it's been more than just a few hours. I can feel my panic rising, but I push it down. I don't have time to deal with it right now.

I notice our car parked in the driveway. I try the door and find it unlocked. Strange- she never does that, saying no one can be trusted. There are old receipts and discarded wrappers inside the car, but nothing that hints at her whereabouts. Slamming the car door, I scan my surroundings and finally notice what should've caught my attention in the beginning: even outside, the silence is overwhelming. Where there should be birds chirping and dogs barking and the sound of kids playing and laughing- nothing.

Struggling to not freak out, I knock on my neighbor's house. Silence. I wait a few moments before knocking again. This time I try the door. It swings open and I step inside.

I take a deep breath and order myself to stay calm. There are so many reasons why she could be out. Same with my mom. Maybe she had an errand to run and forgot to text me.

Text. Right, my phone.

I rush back to my room and search for it. It's fallen under the bed, and when I reach for it I snatch it quickly, feeling that something may try to drag me under otherwise. A dumb idea, perhaps, but not entirely implausible.

I skim through my notifications. A new post in a Discord group, a text from a classmate. But all from yesterday, and nothing from my mom. She could've forgotten, I say to myself. It does nothing to calm my trembling fingers as I text her. Where are you? Even that simple question is difficult to type.

Going back outside, this time armed with my phone (not that it'd do much- it just gives me a sense of comfort, of something being right in this warped world), I check the rest of the houses on my street. It only confirms what I already knew- empty. Everyone is gone.

I desperately try to make sense of the situation. How does everyone just disappear? I have no answer, and there's no one around to give me one. Instead, I'm forced to face the truth: I'm all alone in this strange, abandoned world.