It all seemed so ordinary at first. Peaceful, even—the rare kind of hush that feels like luck on a crowded train. I had the aisle seat, casually scrolling the news. Across from me, a blonde boy—maybe 12, maybe younger—sat silently by the window. His damp hair clung to his forehead, like he’d sprinted to catch the train. He wore a white tank top that looked more suited to a beach day than a commuter rail.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t squirm. Just stared outside with laser focus, as if the blur of trees held secrets only he could see.
Then I realized—he hadn’t blinked in a while.
Suddenly, he made this odd sound. Sharper than a hiccup. His hands began twitching—not the kind of twitch you get when you’re cold, but like something inside him had disconnected. For a second, I thought he was just acting out a video. You know how some kids are.
But then his whole body jerked.
Violently.
He slammed into the seat, eyes wide, mouth open, completely silent. His fingers curled like claws. The woman beside him gasped and tried to shake him, but he didn’t react. His body convulsed in sharp, trembling waves, rocking the seat beneath him.
Someone called for help. A conductor started pushing his way down the aisle. I scanned around to see if the boy had someone with him, but he was clearly alone. No bag. No phone. No adult.
And then something happened that made the air around me feel suddenly cold.
His lips were moving.
Barely. Silently. Repeating something again and again. Like a name.
I leaned closer, heart pounding.
I saw it—just one word, mouthed over and over: “Lina… Lina… Lina…”
The conductor arrived just then, first aid kit in hand. “Everyone step back! Let me through!”
The boy’s eyes rolled back. Then, just like that, the convulsing stopped. His body went limp, slumped like a marionette with its strings cut. The woman beside him let out a sharp breath. I didn’t realize I’d been holding mine.
His eyes fluttered open.
They were cloudy, confused—but he was awake. Kind of. The conductor crouched next to him, gentle and steady. “Hey, buddy. Can you hear me? What’s your name?”
The boy blinked slowly, then whispered something.
We all leaned closer.
“Where’s Lina?” he rasped. “She’s lost. I saw her. In the woods.”
My stomach dropped.
The conductor looked puzzled. “Lina? Who’s Lina?”
The boy pushed himself up slightly, shaking. “She’s my sister. She… she’s still there. I think she’s stuck.”
The woman beside him wiped her eyes. “Sweetheart, were you with someone? Did she get off the train?”
—And that’s when the questions really started.