Chapter 4: The beggining

The morning light filtered weakly through the blinds, painting thin stripes across Ava’s bedroom floor. She stayed in bed longer than usual, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer answers. The second letter lay on her desk, an ever-present weight pressing down on her chest. Someone she loved was lying to her. The words repeated in her mind, carving themselves into her thoughts. But who? And why?

Her phone buzzed. A text from Eli: Meet me at the library? I need your help with a project. Ava’s fingers hovered over the screen. Could she trust him? Could she even trust herself? If you stay silent, you’ll lose yourself, the letter whispered in her memory. She had to figure this out. Somehow.

By the time she arrived, the library was nearly empty. The scent of old books mingled with the faint hum of computers. Eli sat at a corner table, notes scattered around him, pencil tapping impatiently.

“You okay?” he asked the second she approached.

Ava swallowed. She wanted to tell him everything, but the words stuck. She nodded instead. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He frowned, his eyes searching her face. “You’ve got that look again. The one from yesterday. You’re hiding something.”

She wanted to tell him. Really, she did. But the letter’s warning loomed like a shadow over her. If you expose them, you’ll lose him. Her stomach twisted. “Nothing. Just… stressed about the project.”

Eli didn’t push. He scribbled in his notebook, tapping the pencil against the page. “Well, I could use a second opinion. Think you can help?”

Ava hesitated, then slid into the chair across from him. As they bent over the notes, her mind wandered. What if the letter was wrong about Eli? What if the person lying was closer than she thought?

Her thoughts jumped from her mom to Rick, to old memories she couldn’t quite place. Then her eyes fell on Eli. He chewed the end of his pencil, oblivious, completely unaware of the storm inside her. Could she really lose him? Or was the warning about someone else entirely?

The bell above the library door rang. A tall figure stepped inside, cloaked in shadows, pausing for a moment as if scanning the room. Ava’s heart stopped. The figure’s gaze locked on her, slow and deliberate.

Then, almost silently, a small envelope slid out from the coat pocket and landed on the table with a soft thud.

Her pulse raced. She looked up, but the figure was already moving toward the door. Eli leaned over. “What was that?”

Ava’s hands shook as she picked up the envelope. She tore it open carefully. Inside, the paper was blank—except for a single word, written in the familiar, elegant handwriting:

RUN.

A shiver ran down her spine. RUN. No explanation. No hint of who it was for. Just a command. A warning.

“What does it say?” Eli asked.

Ava’s voice trembled. “Run….” She couldn’t say more.

Eli’s frown deepened. “Run? From what?”

She didn’t know. She couldn’t explain. Not yet.

That night, Ava couldn’t sleep. The word “RUN” echoed in her mind like a drumbeat. She replayed every detail of the day: the letters, the figure, Eli’s concerned look, the library’s quiet corners. Every moment felt heavy with meaning, as if the walls themselves were whispering secrets she wasn’t ready to hear.

The next morning, she walked to school with her backpack slung too tightly over one shoulder. Each step felt louder than usual, her ears straining for the faintest hint of danger. Every shadow seemed to stretch toward her, every passerby a potential threat. She glanced at Eli, walking beside her, smiling and joking, completely unaware of the letters or the figure.

She wanted to tell him, to scream it all aloud, but the letters had warned her too clearly. If you expose them, you’ll lose him. Her hands clenched the straps of her bag. She had to decide. Keep silent, or risk everything.

By lunchtime, Ava’s thoughts had begun to spiral. She wasn’t sure she could trust her own instincts. The letters were accurate, eerie in their precision, but the stakes kept climbing. Someone she loved. Lying. RUN. The words merged into a single, sharp question: who?

When she returned to her locker, another envelope awaited her. Her stomach dropped. This one was different—smaller, almost delicate, but the handwriting was unmistakable. She ripped it open and unfolded the note.

You are running out of time. Do not trust what you see. Some truths are hidden for a reason.

Ava’s chest tightened. This wasn’t just a warning—it was a countdown. Each letter, each word, each choice felt like another step toward a cliff. One wrong move, and she could lose everything.

By the end of the day, Ava had made a decision. She couldn’t ignore the letters any longer. They were guiding her, shaping her, pushing her toward something she didn’t understand. And if she didn’t act, she might lose more than just trust or friendship—she might lose herself.

That night, she opened her desk drawer and pulled out both letters. Laying them side by side, she traced the words with trembling fingers. Tomorrow, the choice will be yours.

Her heart raced. Tomorrow. She had less than twenty-four hours to figure out who she could trust, who she couldn’t, and what it truly meant to stay silent—or speak. The letters had shown her glimpses of the future, flashes of danger and consequence, but the path was still hidden, shrouded in shadows.

Ava swallowed hard. She couldn’t run—not yet. Not until she knew the full story. But she could prepare. She would watch. She would listen. She would decide.

And when the next choice came, she would be ready.