Chapter 3: The second letter

Ava couldn’t shake the sound of the sirens.

Even hours later, curled under her blanket with the glow of her desk lamp throwing shadows across the walls, the memory of them screamed in her ears. The way they had cut through the afternoon, racing toward the shortcut, toward the gas station, toward the place she almost—almost—went.

She kept picturing it: Eli at her side, laughing, tossing gummy worms into his mouth as they turned down the cracked path. And then—flashing lights, chaos, a stretcher.

The letter had been right.

Which meant…

Ava sat up abruptly, heart hammering. Which meant whoever wrote it had known.

Not guessed. Not threatened. Known.

Her stomach twisted.

She dug through her backpack and pulled the letter out, smoothing the creases with shaking fingers. It looked so ordinary now. Just paper. Just ink. But she couldn’t ignore what had happened.

Tomorrow, do not take the shortcut home. If you do, he will never wake up.

It was impossible. And yet, the sirens. The smoke she thought she’d glimpsed rising in the distance before they turned away. The fact that Eli was still alive, breathing, texting her dumb jokes about his shoelaces right now—because she had listened.

The walls of her room felt like they were closing in. She shoved the letter back into the envelope, stuffed it into her desk drawer, and slammed it shut.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

Except it wasn’t.

The next morning, Eli was waiting for her at the corner.

“Morning, psychic,” he said with a grin, though his eyes searched her face.

Ava blinked. “Psychic?”

He shrugged. “You freaked out about the shortcut yesterday, and then—boom. Sirens. Gas station fire. Whole block taped off. Tell me that’s not creepy.”

Her stomach dropped. “There was a fire?”

“Yeah.” His grin faded. “You seriously didn’t hear? Some electrical thing. Guy from the neighborhood got burned bad. They said if anyone had been walking back there…”

He trailed off.

Ava swallowed hard.

Eli tilted his head. “So… what’s the deal? Did you know something?”

She forced a laugh that sounded thin, brittle. “Of course not. Total coincidence.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.

Still, his words followed her all day like shadows. Did you know something?

She wanted to scream yes. Yes, I knew. I knew because of a letter that shouldn’t exist. A letter signed by—me?

But saying it out loud felt impossible. Too heavy. Too strange.

So she said nothing.

When Ava got home that afternoon, the first thing she did was check her door.

And her heart lurched.

Another envelope lay there.

She froze, staring at it like it might bite. For a second, she considered leaving it untouched, pretending she hadn’t seen it. Maybe if she ignored it, it wouldn’t matter.

But her hands moved on their own. She picked it up.

Same thick paper. Same looping handwriting. Same single word across the front: AVA.

Her pulse roared in her ears. She tore it open with shaking fingers.

You listened. Good. But it’s not over. The next choice is harder. Someone you love is lying to you. If you expose them, you’ll lose him. If you stay silent, you’ll lose yourself.

Ava’s throat went dry.

There was no explanation. No names. No details. Just those words, cruel and sharp as glass.

She sank onto her bed, reading it again and again, as if the letters might rearrange themselves into something safer. But they didn’t. The meaning was clear, even if the details weren’t.

Someone she loved. Lying to her.

If she exposed them, she’d lose him.

Eli. It had to mean Eli.

But what could Eli be lying about? He was hopeless at lying—he couldn’t even bluff in Uno without grinning.

Her chest tightened. Unless it wasn’t Eli. Unless it was her mom. Or—

Ava’s thoughts spiraled until her head hurt.

She shoved the second letter into her drawer with the first, but the words clung to her like smoke.

If you stay silent, you’ll lose yourself.

At dinner, Ava sat across from her mom, picking at her pasta. Rick cracked jokes between mouthfuls, her mom laughed too loud, and Ava couldn’t stop staring at the way her mom avoided her eyes.

Had she always done that? Or was it new?

The letter gnawed at her brain.

Her mom had secrets. Ava knew that much. She never talked about her dad, never explained why she hated questions about the past. Sometimes Ava caught her staring at old photos, her expression soft and sad.

Someone you love is lying to you.

Her fork clattered against the plate. Both her mom and Rick looked up.

“You okay?” her mom asked.

“Fine,” Ava mumbled. “Just tired.”

But inside, her thoughts were screaming.

That night, she sat at her desk with both letters spread out in front of her. The warnings. The threats. The impossible accuracy.

If one had already come true, then the second…

She pressed her palms to her eyes.

She didn’t know if the letters were protecting her or trapping her. She didn’t know if they were saving Eli or setting him up to be lost another way.

All she knew was that tomorrow, another choice was waiting.

And she was terrified of what it would cost.