Mara stared at the cake. The glossy surface reflected the light of the kitchen, a strange sheen that made it look almost too perfect. It was a simple thing, a round chocolate cake with a delicate layer of frosting. But something about it felt wrong, unsettling. Her eyes narrowed.
"It's perfect, isn't it?" Her friend, Elsa, smiled at her from the doorway, arms crossed.
Mara nodded slowly. "It's too perfect."
Elsa laughed softly. "What do you mean? It's just a cake. It's for your birthday."
Mara glanced over her shoulder at Elsa. There was a hollowness to Elsa's voice, something too rehearsed. She turned back to the cake. It sat there, as still as the silence in the room. No scent of chocolate filled the air, no promise of sweetness. Just a feeling, a sense of wrongness.
"I don't know," Mara muttered. "I feel like it's not… right."
Elsa stepped closer, her presence more forceful now. "Don't overthink it. We've been planning this for weeks. Just eat the damn cake."
Mara felt a chill. She wanted to tell Elsa to leave, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she reached for the knife and cut the first slice. The cake made a strange sound as the knife sank into it—soft, almost too soft. It felt like cutting into air.
Her stomach churned, but she forced the slice onto the plate. The frosting glinted under the light like it was somehow… too smooth. Too perfect.
Mara took a bite.
Her vision blurred.
At first, it was nothing more than a dull sensation, like the air had thickened around her. Then it became clearer—faster. She felt her chest tighten. Her limbs grew heavier, the room closing in. The walls felt too tight, the space too small. A ringing filled her ears, louder than her heartbeat, louder than her thoughts.
"Mara?" Elsa's voice broke through, but it sounded distant, muffled.
Mara's hands began to tremble, and she pushed herself off the table. She barely made it two steps before her knees buckled, her mind clouding. Panic set in.
"Elsa… what's… what's happening?" Her voice came out as a rasp, dry and thin.
Elsa stepped forward, her smile no longer a comforting thing. It had twisted into something almost sinister, stretching unnaturally across her face.
"You shouldn't have eaten it, Mara," Elsa said, her tone cold now. "You shouldn't have taken that bite."
Mara stumbled back, but the world around her was dissolving. The kitchen, the walls, everything—slipping away like a dream fading from her mind. She reached out, desperate to hold onto something, anything.
"Elsa… help…" Mara's voice was a broken whisper, but Elsa wasn't there anymore. The kitchen, the room—it was gone.
------
When Mara opened her eyes again, she was standing outside. The air felt different—sharp, bitter. The ground beneath her feet was uneven, cold. She looked around, but the world didn't make sense. It was familiar, but distant, like a memory she couldn't quite reach.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she searched for Elsa, for anything. But the streets were empty. No one walked by. No sound came from the houses or buildings around her. It was as if everything had been erased. She moved down the street, her breath coming quicker, panic bubbling beneath her skin.
Where was Elsa? Where was everyone?
A dull ache started in her head. She stumbled, her mind spinning. It felt like the world was slipping away from her with every step. She glanced at her hands, and her heart froze.
Her hands. They were fading, the edges of her fingers blurring as if they weren't truly hers anymore.
"Mara?" Elsa's voice, soft and hollow, echoed from behind her. She spun around, but Elsa wasn't there. Only the empty street.
"Mara… you're already gone."
Mara's breath caught in her throat, her knees buckling. She collapsed to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Her chest burned as if something inside her was being torn apart.
"Gone?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Gone where?"
The world around her flickered again, and for a moment, she thought she saw a shape—no, something—moving at the edge of her vision. A figure. But when she turned to face it, it was gone.
She couldn't move. Couldn't think. All she could do was feel the emptiness pulling at her, dragging her deeper.
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was back in the kitchen. The cake sat on the counter, gleaming. It was exactly as it had been.
Her breath hitched. "No. No, this isn't happening."
She stepped forward, her legs weak, unsteady. She couldn't stop herself. She didn't want to, but the pull was too strong. She reached for the cake again, picking up the knife, and cutting another slice.
The soft, sickening sound of the blade slicing through the cake filled the room again. The same hollow feeling, the same dread. She had to stop. She had to… but she couldn't.
The moment the cake touched her tongue, the world started to dissolve once more. This time, there was no panic. No fear. Just a slow, steady erasure. Everything began to fade. Her body, the kitchen, the world—nothing was left. Only darkness.
And then, a new kitchen.
The cake was there again. Waiting.
------
The pattern repeated for hours—or was it days? It was hard to tell anymore. Each time she ate the cake, she vanished. Each time she returned, the same kitchen, the same eerie silence. No one spoke. No one came. Elsa never came back.
She couldn't remember how many times she had done it, how many times she had tried to resist. The hunger gnawed at her, a desperate need to end it, to find a way to stop the cycle. But every bite, every time she tried to end it, she only returned to that same place. The same kitchen.
A voice, low and distant, began to echo in her mind. It was Elsa's voice, but it wasn't. It was a whisper, but not a whisper.
"You chose this," the voice said. "You chose it."
"No!" Mara screamed, her voice breaking. "I didn't choose this!"
But the kitchen didn't answer.
And Elsa wasn't there.
------
Hours or days passed. It didn't matter. She had forgotten the concept of time. The cake sat in front of her, a sickening reminder. Her stomach ached from hunger, from the endless cycle. It wasn't even hunger anymore. It was something else.
Something deeper.
"Why?" Mara whispered, reaching for the knife once more. She was too tired to fight. Too broken.
The knife slid through the cake. The texture was almost too soft now, like cutting through air. She swallowed a bite.
And again, everything was gone.
------
The last time Mara opened her eyes, she was standing on the edge of a cliff. Below her, the ocean stretched out, an endless abyss. There was no sound. No wind. Only her own breath.
"Mara…"
The voice. Elsa's voice.
But she didn't turn around. She couldn't. Her hands were fading. Her body was disappearing, like dust carried away by the wind.
"Mara, you were never meant to exist," Elsa's voice echoed, distant, sorrowful.
Mara closed her eyes, and for the first time, the darkness felt like relief.
Then the world was gone.
And the cake was back. Always waiting.