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On the first day of the new semester, I found an old phone at home. It didn't even have a passcode. There was only one app on the phone. I tapped on it. The first page had only one sentence. [September 1st. Today is my birthday, but nobody showed up to celebrate with me.] I skimmed through the notes—it was all fragmented, every line thick with fear and anxiety. [They are demons.] [I want to escape, but the door is locked.] [I think I'm getting sick. It's so cold.] A chill ran down my spine. Just as I was about to close the app, my mother, Holly, called. "Delilah, don't forget you're having dinner with Vernon this weekend. Be good, okay?" After hanging up, I caught a glimpse of the app's latest entry—it had been updated just a minute ago. [Delilah, save me.]