Chapter 21 – Hints of Her
Sam's POV
I didn’t sleep. Not even for a second.
When dawn crept through the blinds, pale and gray, I was still lying on my side, staring at the wall, the note clutched so tight in my hand it left faint red lines in my palm.
By breakfast time, the paper had become a phantom weight in my pocket, brushing against my thigh with every step, every shift in my seat. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way my name had been written. Clean, deliberate. The way the words burrowed under my skin like a splinter.
I know what you’re doing.
But what really haunted me was the second part. The stairwell. The command to come alone. Why me? Why now?
I forced myself through the day. Sat through lectures I couldn’t focus on, nodded at conversations that slipped right past me. Elias walked beside me more often than usual, his gaze cutting to me when he thought I wouldn’t notice. Like he was waiting for me to crack.
But I didn’t. Not yet.
By the time night fell, my nerves were shot. My palms slick with sweat. Every tick of the clock brought me closer to midnight. Closer to the stairwell.
I waited until Elias’s breathing deepened, slow and steady. Only then did I slip out of bed, pulling on a hoodie, stuffing the note in my pocket. My hands trembled as I pushed open the door, heart thundering at every creak of the hinges.
The hallway was deserted, washed in dim yellow light. My footsteps echoed as I made my way toward the east stairwell, each step heavier than the last.
I reached it just before midnight.
The stairwell was narrow, shadowed, the concrete walls chipped with age. My breath fogged faintly in the cool air.
For a moment, I thought no one was there.
Then I saw it.
Another folded piece of paper tucked into the crack of the wall, like someone had slid it there for me to find.
My chest squeezed.
Hands shaking, I pulled it free. Unfolded it.
This time, the handwriting was the same. Clean. Deliberate.
You’re braver than she was.
I froze.
“She.”
It could mean anyone, I told myself. Any girl. But my stomach dropped, because deep down, I knew who they meant.
My sister.
I gripped the paper so tightly the edges cut into my skin. My eyes blurred with hot tears I refused to let fall. Whoever wrote this knew about her. About what happened.
How?
A whisper of sound made me whirl around, heart leaping into my throat. But the stairwell was empty. No footsteps. No shadow moving in the dim light.
Just me. And the note.
My breath came fast, shallow. The words blurred in my vision, searing into me with every blink.
You’re braver than she was.
I wanted to scream, demand answers from the darkness, but the sound caught in my throat. My chest ached with the weight of it, the sudden rush of memories I’d tried so hard to bury. Her laughter, her tears, her silence in those last days.
This wasn’t random. Whoever this was—they weren’t just toying with me. They knew her. They knew what had been done to her.
And maybe, just maybe, they knew more.
I shoved the note into my pocket and stumbled back toward the dorm, my pulse a wildfire in my veins.
Back in the room, I slipped under the covers, body trembling with the effort of staying quiet. Elias shifted slightly in his sleep, or maybe he wasn’t asleep at all. His breathing stayed steady, but I could feel the weight of him there, too close, too aware.
I clutched the notes under the blanket, holding them tight against my chest.
Somebody out there knew about my sister.
Somebody wanted me to know they knew.
And as the hours dragged by, one thought echoed louder than the rest:
Whoever left those notes could either be my greatest ally… or my deadliest enemy.
And I wasn’t sure which terrified me more.
The next morning, the dorm buzzed with the usual noise—guys shouting, laughing, slamming doors—but I heard none of it. All I could think about was the note. The cruel simplicity of it. The way it clawed open wounds I hadn’t let myself touch in months.
I kept catching myself staring at Elias across the table, searching his face for some sign. Was it him? Was he trying to get into my head?
But he looked as unreadable as always, eating his breakfast with calm indifference. And when he finally glanced up at me, our eyes met, and for one terrifying second, I thought he knew.
That he could see the note burning a hole in my pocket.
That he could hear the way my heart stuttered every time I thought about the word “she.”
I thought about ignoring it. Pretending it never happened. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t.
The notes were only the beginning. Whoever was leaving them wasn’t going to stop. Not until they got what they wanted.
The question was… what did they want from me?
That night, when I slipped my hand under the mattress to check for my notebook, I found something else waiting there.
Another folded piece of paper.
I yanked it out, chest heaving, heart nearly breaking through my ribs.
This one was shorter. Only five words.
She never told you everything.
My blood ran cold.
The words blurred, but I forced myself to read them again, each one a blade cutting deeper than the last.
My sister. My sister who’d died with secrets locked behind her eyes. My sister who’d left me with nothing but pain and silence.
What hadn’t she told me?
My hands shook violently as I clutched the note, the paper crumpling in my grip. The room felt too small, the air too thin.
Across the room, Elias stirred, shifting onto his side. His eyes flickered open, heavy with sleep.
“You okay?” he murmured, voice rough.
I swallowed hard, shoving the note under the blanket, hiding it like contraband.
“Fine,” I whispered.
But I wasn’t fine.
Because now the game had changed.
Someone knew about my sister. Someone knew there were things she’d never confessed.
And they were determined to make sure I found out.
Even if it destroyed me.