4

It started with a message in my locker.
No name. No signature. Just a folded piece of paper slipped through the vents.
At first, I thought it was one of those dumb pranks. Until I read the words.

"You were there. You saw everything."
My hands went cold. The hallway around me seemed to fade, voices turning into static. I looked around, but no one was watching — at least, no that I could see.

I tore the note in half and stuffed it in my pocket. I didn’t tell anyone.
What would I even say? That the dead girl’s ghost was sending me mail?
That somehow, after months of silence, the truth had decided to find me?

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every sound felt too close — the creak of the floorboards, the ticking of the clock, the wind brushing against my window.
And just when I finally closed my eyes, my phone buzzed.
A new message.
“You can’t hide from the truth.”