Holybabe342

"Tonight," she said, her voice a practiced whisper, "we're going to play a game that found me. It’s called The Follower's Path . An indie horror. Don't worry—I'll keep us safe."

Tonight, the chat was slow. A few bots, one lurker named VoidSeeker99, and a regular, KindnessMatters7, who always donated five dollars and said, "You have an old soul." holybabe342

Cassie looked at her reflection in the dark screen. For the first time, she saw someone who wasn’t performing. She deleted the stream. She deleted the username. "Tonight," she said, her voice a practiced whisper,

Cassie’s blood chilled. On the screen, the little girl had turned around. Her features blurred, then reformed. Same tired eyes. Same lavender nails. The game had hacked her webcam. Don't worry—I'll keep us safe

She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that had earned her the "babe" moniker. But her eyes were tired. Under the desk, her bare foot tapped a frantic rhythm against the floorboard.

The final line on the first page: "Holy is not pretending to be good. Babe is not shrinking to be loved. And 342 was the number of days I wasted being afraid of my own truth. Burn the cardigans, Cassie. The world needs your real shadow."