It was July of 2014, just days before I would turn nine, when Charlie and Lucas had turned their backs on me for what felt like an eternity. Seven whole days without a word, a glance, or even a hint of explanation.
Then, one morning wrapped in a misty haze, a soft tapping at my fogged window jolted me awake. Their voices, urgent yet familiar, called me into the forest that skirted our neighborhood. Without hesitation, I slipped into my white nightdress, the fabric cool against my skin, and followed their shadows into the dense embrace of the woods.
Charlie’s hand found mine, warm and steady, as we trailed behind Lucas, his figure leading us deeper through the tangled green. I already knew why they’d summoned me, though dread twisted in my gut like a thick vine.
“Lucy, it wasn’t as terrible as you think,” Charlie whispered softly, his voice a balm to my aching heart. “Lucas is just scared. He always gets that way.”
Lucas glanced back briefly, his dark curls falling across his forehead, eyes sharper than the cold air around us. “She needs to understand what happened. What she did,” he said, voice low and steady.
I bowed my head, the chill creeping beneath my skin. The ground was damp with dew; the blades of grass clung to my legs, leaving a clammy sensation that made me shiver.
Charlie squeezed my hand reassuringly as we clambered over fallen branches and carpets of dry leaves. “It’s alright,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t be angry with you. If I’d been there, I’d have stepped in.”
“Don’t say that, Charlie,” I whispered, voice breaking. “I did a terrible thing...”
At last, we reached our sanctuary — a fragile fortress cradled between four towering trees, a patchwork of scrap wood and rusted metal assembled with childish determination. Lucas strode ahead, his hand pushing open the creaking door. Charlie stayed close, still holding my hand, as we stepped inside.
But the space felt alien, darker somehow, as though shadows had settled in during our absence.
Lucas turned slowly, his eyes as cold and unforgiving as a winter storm. “Lucy,” he said quietly, “close the door.”
***
Ten years later.
My feet were rooted to the spot, every ounce of blood in me congealing into a silent stone. The auditorium was suffused with darkness, Lucas’s voice echoing in my mind like a haunting refrain.
“Close the door, Lucy,” he repeated, his tone brittle and urgent.
I couldn’t spot him in the gloom. I craved the comfort of Charlie’s hand in mine, his presence a shield against the cold.
With trembling limbs, I turned and pressed my palms against the heavy double doors, feeling the worn wood grain beneath my fingertips. A slow, deliberate push sealed the room from the outside world, cutting off the last shreds of light.
The click of the lock was a dull thunder in the silence. Then, suddenly, a force pressed against me from behind. I gasped, a breath caught in my throat, my body rigid with alarm.
“I need to know, Lucy...”
Lucas’s hands gripped my wrists, still resting on the door, turning me to face him. My back slammed into the polished oak with a thud that echoed through my ribs. I braced myself, expecting harsh words or worse.
“I swear, Lucas, I didn’t...” I started, but the sentence died in my mouth.
Fragments of Doctor Whitlock’s unsettling words and the dreadful note from before flooded my mind. Doubt gnawed at me—could I truly claim innocence?
Don’t you think it’s possible you suffer from dissociative amnesia?
No, that can’t be true...
Lucy... My dear Lucy... Don’t you remember how you killed Charlie Whyte?
I couldn’t believe it.
“Tell me, Lucy. I have to know,” Lucas’s grip tightened, anchoring me to the moment.
A pale beam filtered down from high windows, stirring particles of dust to life in the stale air. The weak light haloed him, his stark white hair and pale complexion lending him an almost spectral aura.
But those eyes—icy and unyielding—were the same I’d seen a decade ago. I never imagined I’d face them again after all we’d vowed to forget.
“I loved Charlie,” I confessed, voice low and trembling, more a plea than a statement. “You were both like brothers. He was my twin, my best friend. Why would I...” My words faltered, swallowed by the weight of memory.
Lucas’s gaze darkened. “That’s not what I need to hear.” His breath was shallow, heavy with years of grief.
“Then what do you want from me?” I whispered, desperation threading through my tone.
“What did he tell you that day?”
A suffocating silence swallowed me. Not a breath escaped; even the shadows seemed to hold their breath.
“Tell me, Lucy,” Lucas urged again, voice cracking with pain. “What did my brother reveal to you?”
My bottom lip trembled fiercely, but I fought tears. Instead, I forced a fragile smile, a silent plea for mercy.
“Lucas, please... I promised him I wouldn’t say a word.”
“Tell me.” His voice was brittle, an edge of desperation sharpening his demand.
I shook my head, lips sealed tight as if the secret might spill out without consent.
“Tell me!” His hand shot out, swift and fierce. I tensed, bracing for a slap—but instead, he tore the pendant from my neck and flung it onto the floor.
Shock widened my eyes. I shoved against him with every ounce of strength, but he was relentless, pinning me firmly against the door. My heart thundered in my chest.
“Lucy, calm down. Please.” His voice softened, pleading.
I struggled frantically. That necklace was the last tether I had left—another loss unbearable to bear. Not again. Please, not again.
“Lucy!” he called, his voice rising over the frantic pounding of my heart.
When words failed, Lucas pulled me into his arms, a sudden embrace so gentle it drained the power from my limbs. I sagged against him, sinking to the wooden floor, the warmth of his presence dulling the fear.
“I miss him, Lucy,” he murmured into my hair. “I just want answers. Charlie was good… I can’t believe someone did this to him. I’m broken, Lucy. I need to know what happened.”
Eyes closed, I returned the hug, the raw honesty in his voice unraveling my defenses.
His steady breath brushed against my neck, and I wondered if he could hear the frantic rhythm of my pulse.
“Do you think I did it?” The question slipped out, fragile but urgent. I needed the truth more than anything.
Time stretched thin as I waited for his answer, each second a dagger of uncertainty.
Finally, he spoke, weight in his words. “No. If you wanted Charlie gone, he’d have taken himself from this world for you.”
My eyes fell to the shattered pendant lying on the shadowed floor, its fragments catching the faint light like broken promises.
“I wish it had been me who disappeared,” I whispered. “I wish Charlie was still here.”
In my heart, I would trade places a thousand times over. No one deserved the darkness that stole him away.
Only when I was certain my next lecture had long begun did Lucas release me. We remained seated on the cold wooden floor, the silence thick but less oppressive.
“I’ll find who did this,” Lucas vowed, voice firm with newfound resolve. “I won’t let them slip away.”
The session with Doctor Whitlock haunted me still. Until the killer was unmasked, the possibility that it could have been me would cling to every shadow in my mind, no matter how insane it seemed.
We sat together in the gathering quiet, the weight of lost years and fragile hope hanging between us, both of us prisoners to the past we couldn’t undo.