1 It was the final afternoon of our twoweek environmental geology field practicum in the high desert of the American Southwest.

The sun hung low over the canyon rim, bathing the jagged sandstone in a rich, deceptive amber.

Sadie Wells stood near the edge of a sheer cliff overhang, turning back to flash me a brilliant, rehearsed smile. "Hey, Brooke!" she called out, her voice lilting and honeysweet. "Come on, let's get the whole group out here for a final photo." Sadie was the department’s resident influencer.

For the past fourteen days, while the rest of us hauled soil corers, logged sedimentary strata, and sweated through our field shirts, Sadie had spent every waking hour hunting for the perfect goldenhour lighting to feed her Instagram grid.

Since the department required photographic proof of our field research for the grant wrapup report, a group shot sounded reasonable enough.

I opened my mouth, about to nod, when an earsplitting voice detonated inside my skull. Don’t you dare step onto that ledge.

The moment the whole group stands on that sandstone shelf, the entire overhang will shear off. Everyone will plummet.

You’ll be paralyzed from the neck down, and you’ll spend the rest of your ruined life bearing the blame for their deaths. My chest contracted in a vicelike spasm.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head hard. It had to be the heat.

Two weeks of desert sun and fortyeight hours of sleep deprivation finishing the field logs were finally catching up to me. Hallucinations.

Seeing me hesitate, Sadie’s smile thinned into impatience. "Brooke? What are you waiting for? Get everyone lined up!

The sun’s dropping behind the ridge—in five minutes we’ll be completely backlit!" I drew a breath to speak, but the voice struck again, shrill and frantic.

Sadie will step back at the last second to check her lip gloss. She survives without a scratch.

And when the local news crews arrive, she’ll sob on camera and tell the world that you were the reckless student leader who forced everyone onto that rock. A chill seized my throat.

I couldn't stop the silent, terrified query forming in my mind: Who are you?! A beat of suffocating silence followed, broken only by a low, ragged sob. I am you.

Ten years from now. "What the hell..." The words slipped past my lips in a whisper. The voice hitched, trembling with an agony that felt entirely too real. It’s true, Brooke.

I know that during your freshman year, you had a massive crush on Tyler from the varsity basketball team.

Every single evening at six, you’d lace up your running shoes and take the long way around East Campus just to catch a glimpse of him shooting free throws. My blood ran icecold.

The heat of the desert evaporated around me. Nobody in the world knew that. Not my roommate, not my best friend, not my mother.

It was a secret I had buried so deep it lived only in the quietest corners of my own memory. My throat tightened until I could barely draw oxygen.

In my head, I stammered, Then... what am I supposed to do? Do not let them step onto that shelf, the voice warned, every syllable laced with a dark, bottomless dread.

And if they refuse to listen, you make damn sure your hands are clean. In the next second, a violent cascade of imagery ripped across my mind’s eye.

I saw the group huddled together, grinning, shouting the countdown—three, two, one—and then the deafening snap of fracturing rock.

The sandstone shelf gave way beneath our feet like dry pastry.

I watched my classmates drop into the canyon void, their screams swallowed by the rush of wind, their bodies smashing onto the jagged talus hundreds of feet below.

I saw myself snagged on a twisted bristlecone root jutting from the cliff face, the violent impact snapping my spine with a sickening crunch.

The phantom pain was so sharp, so brutally visceral, that my knees buckled. Then came the wail of sirens.

Grieving parents clutching my bloodsoaked collar at the hospital, screaming into my face: You killed my baby! Why didn't you die instead?!

I saw television cameras shoved into my face, and there was Sadie, tears streaming down her immaculate cheeks for the evening news: Brooke insisted on going out to the edge.

We all told her it wasn't safe, but she wouldn't listen. It’s all Brooke’s fault...

And finally, the day I was wheeled out of the rehabilitation clinic: my graduate fellowship revoked, the university expulsion letter waiting in our mailbox.

I watched my mother look down at the letter, clutch her chest, and collapse onto the linoleum floor. Massive myocardial infarction. She never opened her eyes again.

Twentytwo years of a bright, promising life, obliterated in the single click of a shutter. I gasped, snapping back to the searing sunlight.

Sweat drenched my collar, yet my hands were shaking and cold as marble. "Brooke?

Seriously, what is your problem?" Sadie’s sharp voice cut through the ringing in my ears. "Did you hear a word I said?" I braced my trembling legs, feeling the cold terror settle into my marrow. "I...

I think I've got a touch of heat exhaustion. What did you just say?" Sadie rolled her eyes, pointing toward the sinking sun. "Look at the lighting! Call everyone over right now!

A wideangle group shot on that cliff will blow up my feed!" She pulled out a compact mirror, checking her contour with smug satisfaction.

I looked at her closely for the first time that day. She was fully made up, not a hair out of place.

Her linen dress was an earthy, desertochre tone that matched the sandstone formations behind her with calculated precision.

She hadn't stumbled upon this view by chance; she had scouted the location, coordinated her palette, and planned this exact shot down to the minute.

I swallowed hard, keeping my tone measured and cool. "Sadie, there are eighteen of us. That ledge looks structurally unstable. It can't hold that kind of weight.

If you want a photo, take it yourself." "No way!" Sadie shook her head instantly. "I want the whole group in it!" I frowned, caught off guard.

If her entire goal was aesthetic perfection, wouldn't a clean solo portrait against the vast desert landscape serve her better?

Why was she so obsessed with dragging eighteen sweaty, exhausted students into the frame? "You don't need us," I said calmly. "If you want a moody, atmospheric portrait, I'll take it for you.

Give me your phone. I know how to frame a good composition." Sadie sneered. "Ugh, you don't get it at all! I told my followers days ago that we'd have a massive team wrapup photo!

How does it look if it's just me standing there alone?" She sounded utterly righteous. And in a flash of clarity, everything clicked.

Two weeks ago, at the start of the practicum, I had stumbled across Sadie’s public account. She was a microinfluencer with a few thousand followers.

Her first post of the trip was a group selfie taken at the university departure lot.

Sadie stood deadcenter, beaming and flawless, while the rest of us were squinting in the harsh morning light.

The comment section had been full of worshipful praise: Omg, you look like a model and everyone else looks like background extras! Literally Snow White and the seven dwarves.

You are definitely the main character of that department.

And Sadie had replied with practiced fauxhumility: Stop, guys, everyone is beautiful, we just had an early morning and no one had time for makeup! Pure, calculated condescension.

I looked past her toward the rest of the cohort.

After fourteen days of baking in the desert wind, our skin was peeling, our lips were chapped, and our shirts were stained with red dust. We looked like survivalists.

And there stood Sadie, retouched and styled to the nines. I understood now. The more exhausted and unkempt we looked, the more radiant she appeared by comparison.

Surrounded by a ragged crowd, she was the undisputed centerpiece. Standing alone, she was just another tourist taking a snapshot. A cold, bitter anger rose in my chest.

Before I could speak, Sadie stamped her foot in irritation. "Fine!

If you won't tell them, I will!" She spun around and dashed toward the shaded rest area where the others were packing up their gear. "Guys! Look at the view over on the rim!

Brooke says we should all head over for our final group shot! Come on, let's get lined up!" The chatter died down. One of the guys chuckled nervously. "Out on that dropoff?

Is that safe?

Would suck to fall off right before graduation." Sadie was already holding up her phone, displaying a saved Pinterest board of influencers posing on redrock perches. "Look how epic this looks!

I checked the trail guides—this bedrock is solid.

It could support a truck!" A few people leaned in, their interest piqued. "Damn, that actually looks incredible." "Right?" Sadie pressed her advantage. "We'll do the group shot first, and then I'll take individual portraits for anyone who wants one.

Free portfolio shots, deal?" Several students scrambled to their feet. "Count me in!

Sadie always gets the best angles." "Let's go before we lose the golden hour!" One by one, the cohort began wandering toward the crumbling sandstone shelf.

Someone glanced back and waved at me. "Brooke! Hurry up, we're waiting on you!" Sadie led the pack, an unmistakable smirk playing on her lips.

They were less than thirty feet from the edge. Every nerve in my body screamed. "Stop!" I yelled, my voice ringing out across the canyon. "Nobody go near that ledge!

Back up right now!" The entire group froze. Nearly twenty pairs of eyes locked onto me in confusion. "What's wrong, Brooke?

Didn't you just tell Sadie you wanted us over there?" I shook my head violently, my throat constricting. "No. I never said that.

I never authorized a group photo on that cliff." Sadie rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, come on, Brooke. It’s just a picture.

It’s not like we're walking into a minefield. Do you have to turn everything into a crisis?" She turned to the crowd, placing a hand over her heart. "Look, it was my idea, okay?

I just wanted us to have something gorgeous to remember this trip by." Her admission only fueled the group’s annoyance with me. "I was gonna say," someone muttered. "Brooke’s idea of a photo is a blurry shot of a rock crosssection." "Exactly.

Leave it to Sadie to actually make us look good." "Come on, guys, let's just go.

The sun isn't waiting around for Brooke to stop overthinking." Laughing, they turned their backs on me and continued toward the precipice. Ten yards away.

Stop them! the voice in my head cried out, frayed with terror. You cannot let them step out there!

The blood surged into my temples. "Are you all completely blind?!" I shouted, sprinting forward to block their path. "This is aeolian sandstone!

It’s been weathered by wind and flash floods for thousands of years. It’s microfractured all the way through—it’s as brittle as dry toast!

You put eighteen people on that unsupported overhang and the whole thing will shear off!" The group stopped again. A tense silence hung over the dust.

Then, someone let out a dismissive scoff. "Brooke, did you bingewatch disaster documentaries last night or something? That rock is massive.

There's not a single crack on the surface. Stop being such a drama queen." "Seriously, let's go.

Sadie's waiting." Sadie looked back at me over her shoulder, her lips curling into a sharp, victorious little smirk. No one was listening. They took another step forward.

My stomach dropped.

I whipped out my phone, flipped on the video camera, and pointed it squarely at the crowd. "If you're going out there, state your names right now and state clearly on camera that you are doing this against my explicit safety warnings as the student lead." The air turned hostile. "Brooke, what the hell is your problem?" "You're filming us now?

Over a group photo?" I kept the camera steady, my voice firm despite the violent tremor in my chest. "Sadie wants her aesthetic content, and I can't physically tackle all of you.

But if you choose to risk your lives for an Instagram shot, I am making sure the department knows this had nothing to do with me.

I warned you." They stared at the lens, their expressions hardening with disgust. Suddenly, Sadie sniffled.

Her lower lip began to quiver, and her eyes welled with perfectly timed tears. "I get it, Brooke," she whispered, her voice breaking softly. "Is this because of that photo from the first day?

You're still mad because you didn't like how you looked next to me?" She covered her face with her hands, letting out a delicate, wounded sob. "If my presence bothers you that much, I just won't be in the picture.

You guys go ahead without me. I'll just sit here by myself..." I stared at her, stunned by the sheer audacity of the pivot.

One of the guys slapped his thigh in sudden realization. "Oh, man. That’s totally it." "Right! Brooke was standing right next to Sadie in that departure post!" "Jesus, Brooke.

Are you seriously sabotaging our final photo because your ego got bruised two weeks ago?" Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. They exchanged knowing, contemptuous looks.

I trembled with pure, unadulterated fury. "You would rather believe petty middleschool drama than basic geological science?!" They shook their heads, scoffing. "Whatever, Brooke.

Keep your insecurities to yourself." "Come on, Sadie, don't cry.

We're taking this photo, with or without her." "When the department features this on the university homepage, someone’s gonna look real stupid for sitting out." The absurdity of it nearly choked me.

They were standing on the literal edge of a fatal drop, and their primary concern was social media engagement.

If you can't stop them, keep yourself clear, the future voice whispered, weary and hollow. I looked down at the blinking red recording icon on my screen. The footage was clear.

I had warned them, documented their defiance, and refused participation. Legally, academically, I was safe.

Yet when I looked up, I saw the faces of the people I had shared labs, dining halls, and study sessions with for three years.

The girls were adjusting their windblown hair; the guys were throwing their arms around each other's shoulders. They were standing less than three feet from the fracture line.

The vision flashed behind my eyelids again—bodies broken on the boulders below, the metallic stench of blood, the deafening screams. I couldn't just walk away.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. "Is a picture really worth your lives? Just think for one second." The group fell quiet for a fleeting second.

Then, someone tossed an empty water bottle onto the gravel. "Brooke, shut the hell up! You've been whining for twenty minutes.

If you don't want to be in it, then get out of the way! Nobody needs you here!" "Yeah, let it go.

Ignore her, guys." Just as they turned back toward the edge, Sadie turned around. "Wait! Everyone, wait a second!" They paused, looking at her.

Sadie offered me a soft, patronizing smile. "I really think Brooke should be in the photo with us," she said sweetly. "She worked so hard these past two weeks as our team lead—managing the logistics, organizing the meals, writing the daily reports.

It wouldn't be fair to leave her out of the final class memory." She took two steps toward me, extending an open hand.

Before I could back away, the voice in my head shrieked with absolute fury. Don't fall for it! She needs you in that frame!

The university PR department won't feature an official field photo without the assigned student lead in the shot!

Sadie knows her viral picture won't make the university's main page unless you're standing right there beside her to legitimize it! A cold sweat erupted across my scalp.

The rest of the class, completely oblivious to Sadie’s calculation, only grew more irritated by my hesitation. "Brooke, are you kidding me?!" someone barked. "Sadie’s literally begging you to join, and you're still acting like an entitled diva?" "Get over yourself and get in the damn picture!" "Seriously, Brooke, stop being so toxic!" The wave of hostility crashed over me.

Every single person looked at me with open scorn, treating me like a bitter outcast throwing a tantrum. I parted my lips, but no sound came out. There was nothing left to say.

I had exhausted every warning. I turned on my heel to walk away. Suddenly, Sadie lunged forward.

Her manicured fingers clamped around my wrist, her nails digging into my skin like talons. "Come on, Brooke! We have to be together!

Don't ruin this for us!" Before I could wrench myself free, three other classmates swarmed in, grabbing my shoulders and hauling me backward toward the cliff. "Hurry up, grab her!

Sun's dropping!" "Got her! Let's go, everyone in position!" Panic surged through my veins. I kicked and fought, but their combined weight dragged me inexorably toward the edge.

My boot soles scraped across the crumbling sandstone rim. Tiny pebbles skittered over the void, tumbling into the abyss below.

And in that split second, a sound tore through the canyon.