Emma's POV
I grab the baseball bat from my closet and run down the hallway.
My hands shake so badly I almost drop it. Someone took a picture of Lily sleeping. Someone was in her room. Someone is still in my house.
I burst into Lily's bedroom, bat raised high, ready to protect my daughter with everything I have.
The window is closed. Locked from the inside.
Lily sleeps peacefully, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Her stuffed rabbit is tucked under her arm like always.
I check the closet—empty. Under the bed—nothing. Behind the curtains—no one.
But someone was here. The photo proves it.
Unless...
My stomach drops. I pull out my phone and look at the photo again. Really look at it.
Lily's pink sheets. Her butterfly nightlight. Her rabbit. Everything is exactly like her room right now. But wait—in the photo, her notebook is on the nightstand. I glance at her nightstand now. The notebook isn't there.
When did I last see it there?
This afternoon. Before dinner.
The photo wasn't taken tonight. It was taken hours ago, maybe when we were eating dinner, maybe when I was checking the mail. Someone broke in earlier and I didn't even know.
I sink onto Lily's bed, my whole body shaking. We're not safe here. We've never been safe.
I scoop Lily into my arms. She mumbles in her sleep but doesn't wake up. I carry her to my bedroom, lock the door, and push my dresser in front of it. We'll sleep together tonight. I'll keep watch.
But I don't sleep. Every tiny sound makes me jump. The house settling. The wind outside. My own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
At 3 AM, I finally admit the truth to myself: I can't do this alone anymore.
I need help. Real help.
I pull up my phone contacts and scroll to a name I haven't looked at in ten years. My finger hovers over it, shaking.
Nathan Cross.
Just seeing his name makes my chest ache. He was my first love, my safe place, my best friend. We grew up together—me, Nathan, and Sophie. The three of us were inseparable every summer at Camp Hollow.
Then I met Ryan at twenty-two. Everything changed.
Ryan told me Nathan was obsessed with me in an unhealthy way. He showed me old texts from Nathan that seemed intense and clingy. He said Nathan had a history of stalking ex-girlfriends. He convinced me that keeping Nathan in my life was dangerous.
So I ghosted him. Blocked his number. Never explained why. I just disappeared from his life like Sophie disappeared from mine.
What if Ryan lied about Nathan too? What if Nathan wasn't dangerous at all?
My thumb hovers over Nathan's number. After ten years of silence, what would I even say?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I click on his name and pull up his social media. I haven't checked it in years. Ryan made me delete all my accounts when we got married—said social media was toxic and unnecessary.
Nathan's profile loads. My breath catches.
He's a doctor now. A psychologist. His bio says he specializes in trauma and abuse survivors. There's a photo of him at a conference, speaking on a panel about gaslighting and psychological manipulation.
Tears blur my vision. Nathan helps people who've been through what I went through. He became exactly the kind of person who could have saved me from Ryan.
And I pushed him away because of Ryan's lies.
I scroll through his posts. He shares articles about recognizing abuse, resources for survivors, stories of hope and recovery. There's a warmth to his words that I remember from when we were young—that gentle kindness that made everyone feel safe around him.
One post from three months ago stops me cold:
"To the friend who disappeared without explanation: I never stopped hoping you'd come back. Whatever you're going through, I'm here. I always have been. —NC"
The comments are full of people tagging friends, sharing their own stories of lost connections. But I know—I know in my bones—he wrote this for me.
Nathan is still waiting for me. After ten years.
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. I don't deserve his help. I don't deserve his kindness. But Lily deserves to be safe.
I switch to my call log, find his office number from his website, and type out a text message: "Nathan, it's Emma. I know I have no right to ask, but I need help. Something impossible is happening. I think Sophie might be alive. Please call me."
My finger hovers over send for a full minute.
What if he hates me? What if he tells me to leave him alone? What if Ryan was right and Nathan really is dangerous?
But then I look at Lily sleeping beside me, and I know I'd do anything to keep her safe. Even face the boy I broke ten years ago.
I hit send.
The message shows as delivered. Then, almost immediately: Read.
My heart pounds. He's awake. He's reading it right now.
Three dots appear. He's typing.
Then they disappear. Then appear again. He's hesitating.
I hold my breath, staring at my phone screen so hard my eyes burn.
Finally, a message comes through: "Emma. After ten years, I didn't expect to hear from you. What do you mean Sophie is alive?"
My hands shake as I type back: "I got a postcard from her. Her handwriting. And Lily saw someone who looked exactly like her at school. Then I got threatening texts. Someone broke into my house and took pictures of Lily sleeping. I don't know what's real anymore."
Send.
The dots appear immediately this time. He's typing fast.
"Where are you right now? Are you safe?"
"I'm home. Doors locked. Lily is with me."
"Stay there. Don't open the door for anyone. I'm coming over."
My chest tightens. "Nathan, it's 3 AM. You don't have to—"
"I'm already getting dressed. Send me your address. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
I stare at the message, tears streaming down my face. After everything I did to him—the ghosting, the silence, the unexplained abandonment—he's dropping everything to help me at 3 AM.
I send him my address, then add: "Thank you. I'm so sorry. For everything."
His response comes instantly: "We'll talk about the past later. Right now, let's keep you and Lily safe. Lock the bedroom door. Don't come out until you hear me call your name. I'm on my way."
I pull Lily closer and wait, watching the minutes tick by on my phone. Nathan is coming. After ten years, I'm going to see him again.
I don't know if I'm more terrified of whoever is threatening us or of facing the boy I destroyed.
At 3:17 AM, my phone rings. Unknown number.
My blood turns to ice. Every instinct screams not to answer. But what if it's important? What if it's about the threat?
I answer without speaking.
Heavy breathing fills my ear. Then a voice—distorted, computerized, neither male nor female: "You called Nathan. Big mistake, Emma. He can't protect you. No one can. But since you're so eager for a reunion, let's make it interesting."
"Who are you?" I whisper, trying not to wake Lily.
"Check your email. I sent you a present. A memory from the night Sophie died. Maybe it'll help you remember what you did to her."
"I didn't do anything to Sophie! I wasn't even there!"
"Weren't you?" The voice laughs, cold and mechanical. "Ryan says otherwise. Nathan will too, once he sees the proof. You killed your best friend, Emma. And deep down, you've always known it."
The line goes dead.
My hands shake so hard I almost drop the phone. I open my email with trembling fingers.
One new message. No subject line. The sender is listed as "[email protected]"—Sophie's old email address that should have been deleted years ago.
There's a video attachment.
I don't want to open it. Every cell in my body screams not to. But I have to know.
I click play.
The video is grainy, dark, shot on someone's phone at night. It shows the dock at Camp Hollow, the one stretching out into the dark lake. Two figures stand at the end—both girls, both in their early twenties.
My heart stops.
One girl is definitely Sophie. I'd recognize her anywhere—the blonde hair, the way she stands with her weight on one hip, the blue jacket she wore constantly that summer.
The other girl has her back to the camera. Brown hair. Same height as me. Same build as me.
They're arguing. I can't hear the words, but their body language is aggressive. Sophie is crying, backing away. The other girl moves closer, pointing, yelling.
Then Sophie steps back too far.
She slips off the dock.
The splash is silent in the video, but I can imagine the sound. The other girl stands frozen for a moment, then runs. The video ends.
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't move.
That girl looked like me. Same hair, same size, same everything.
But I wasn't there that night. I was at college. Nathan called me. We talked about Sophie's death. I have proof.
Don't I?
Unless... what if Ryan was right? What if I was there and blocked it out?
What if I killed my best friend and can't remember?
A knock at my front door makes me scream. Lily jerks awake, startled and confused.
"Emma?" A man's voice calls through the door. "It's Nathan. Let me in."
I stare at the door, then at the video frozen on my phone screen—that girl who looks like me, standing over the place where Sophie fell.
Nathan is here. The boy I abandoned. The boy who might be the only person who can tell me the truth about that night.
But what if the truth is that I'm a murderer?
What if Nathan knows it?
What if that's why he really came?