---
Chapter Two: Her Voice in the Mirror
That night, I lock every window. I leave the hallway light on. I even slide my dresser in front of the door like I'm in a horror movie.
Because it's starting to feel like I am.
Still, when I close my eyes, the dream finds me. It always does.
But this time, it's different.
I'm standing at the bridge. Chloe is there, but she isn't holding a knife. She's just staring at me. Her eyes don't look angry. They look… sad.
"You forgot," she whispers.
I try to move, but my feet are stuck to the pavement.
"You promised."
The air turns cold. The sky splits open. Chloe steps backward—and falls.
I scream.
I wake up gasping.
---
The next morning, I decide to go back to the bridge.
I haven't been there since the police found her body. I told them I didn't remember anything. That was true. But maybe going back will help me remember.
The place hasn't changed. It's still old, rusted, abandoned. Graffiti covers the rails. Someone spray-painted Fly Free in pink letters. I doubt they knew Chloe.
I walk to the edge and look down. The drop is steep. Sharp rocks and water below. The wind pushes against me like it wants to send me over.
"She wouldn't have come here alone," her mother had said.
I close my eyes. Flashes again. Chloe's hand grabbing mine. Her voice shouting something. A loud crack. A scream.
But whose?
Suddenly, I feel someone watching me.
I spin around.
Nothing.
Just a girl jogging past with earbuds in.
I'm losing it.
---
That evening, Cami and I eat noodles in silence.
"You okay?" she asks.
I nod. Lie. "Just tired."
"I saw you looking up the bridge on your phone. You thinking about going back?"
"Already did," I admit.
Her fork stops mid-air. "Why?"
"Because I think I was there that night. And I think someone else was too."
She sets the fork down slowly.
"You think someone pushed her?"
I shrug. "Or maybe she wasn't alone. Maybe she saw something she shouldn't have. Or... maybe I did."
Cami doesn't speak for a minute. Then she reaches out and squeezes my hand. "If you want help digging, I'm in. But promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't go crazy on me."
I laugh a little. "Too late."
---
Later, while brushing my teeth, I hear a thump from my room.
I freeze.
I tiptoe back inside. My dresser is still in front of the door, unmoved. But the mirror on my closet is fogged up.
There, in the fog, is a single word:
LIAR
I stumble backward. There's no one in the room.
Cami is in the shower.
The window is locked.
My hands tremble as I wipe the mirror clean.
Nothing.
No trace.
No proof.
But I know what I saw.
---
That night, I barely sleep. I toss and turn, Chloe's face haunting the darkness. My heart races every time the wind moves against the windowpane.
In the morning, I skip class.
Instead, I go to the campus library and log into the student archives. I start searching anything related to the night Chloe died.
Nothing helpful. Just a few news articles with headlines like:
"Teen Girl Falls to Death from Montgomery Bridge"
"Tragic Accident Leaves Campus Shaken"
I scroll further until I find something strange.
A post on an anonymous forum, dated two days after Chloe's death.
"I saw her. She wasn't alone. The other girl ran."
No name. No reply. No IP logged.
But I freeze.
Could that have been me?
Did I run?
---
I call Chloe's mom later that day. My voice shakes.
"Hi, Mrs. Bell… it's Ava."
A long silence. Then: "Hello."
"I… I've been remembering things. From that night."
More silence. Then a soft, tired sigh.
"You were always her quiet shadow, Ava. But Chloe trusted you. She loved you like a sister. If you remember something, you need to say it."
"I'm trying," I whisper.
Her voice breaks a little. "Then try harder."
---
Back at the dorm, I sit on the floor of my closet with Chloe's locket in my hand.
It's been buried at the bottom of a shoebox for months. I never had the heart to throw it away.
I open it.
Inside is a folded note—one I don't remember putting there.
My fingers shake as I unfold it.
"Don't let them erase me."
A chill rips down my spine.
Who is "them"?
And what exactly did they do to Chloe?
My phone buzzes. It's a message from an unknown number.
"You're getting warm. Keep digging."
My heart stops.
I don't reply.
I just stare at the screen until it dims, trying not to scream.