I thought of something—proof. If I was going to convince Mom, I needed everything. So, with God Speed, I flipped through Maya's diaries, my fingers a blur as I photographed every page in seconds. The flash was silent, the process seamless, and in moments, I had everything stored in my phone.
Then, I heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. I activated God Speed again, vibrating my body at a frequency that made me invisible, my form flickering like a mirage. I slipped out of the room just as the front door creaked open.
Maya stepped inside, her shoulders slumped, her red dress clinging to her like a second skin, the fabric rumpled from the long day. She was alone, her face pale, her eyes hollow. She pulled out her phone, her voice tired, defeated, as she dialed a number.
