Chapter 6: Echoes Across the Lake

It was a familiar move: steer the conversation away from anything that might point back at him.

Bryce was silent for a long time, then asked Carter, “What kind of person is Autumn in your eyes?”

He looked up, eyes hollow, as if searching for something he’d lost.

“What do you mean?” Carter’s eyes went from cold to burning, as if a fire was lit inside.

His voice was tight, defensive.

Bryce said, “Autumn… she threatened me.”

He said it quietly, like he was confessing to a priest.

Bryce told us the abandoned building was his old high school, and he was the boy in the incident. Unlike the rumor, he was only stabbed, not killed, but the girl did jump.

The words landed like a slap. The truth was worse than the story we’d all believed.

Later, at a high school reunion, he heard the girl had left evidence of the assault, but before she could give it to the police, she was forced to her death by the school and his family.

He looked away, shame burning on his cheeks.

It was just a rumor, so he didn’t care—until Carter suggested the adventure.

He’d brushed it off for years, but now it was coming back to haunt him.

He was afraid the rumor was true, so he checked out the abandoned building beforehand, but found nothing.

He’d paced those halls alone, looking for ghosts, but only found his own reflection.

That night, he went to the third floor and saw Autumn. She told him she’d discovered he’d come early, investigated, and found out he was the boy from the incident.

Her voice was calm, but her eyes were hard. She didn’t flinch.

Autumn also said she was pregnant with his child, and would keep it secret if he took her abroad.

The words hit him like a punch. He went pale, stammering for an answer.

He was shocked, because they’d only slept together once, and used protection. He questioned her, but she insisted the child was his, and if he didn’t agree, she’d expose his past.

He tried to laugh it off, but she didn’t smile. The silence stretched between them, sharp as a knife.

As they argued, he heard someone coming up to the third floor. Afraid Autumn would talk, he rushed out to intercept, found it was Tyler, made up an excuse, and took him to the rooftop.

He was desperate to keep the secret buried. Tyler was just collateral damage.

They chatted, then Tyler said he was hungry and went downstairs.

The conversation was awkward, both of them distracted.

As for where Autumn went, he said he didn’t know.

He shrugged, but the lie was obvious.

I clenched my fists, memories flooding back. I tried to keep calm and asked Bryce, “We all know Autumn wasn’t interested in you. Why would she sleep with you?”

I leaned forward, searching his face for the truth.

Bryce glanced at Carter, then looked away, pained.

He couldn’t meet my eyes. The shame was too much.

“Bryce, speak!” Carter’s eyes were sharp, his steady voice trembling.

He slammed his fist on the table, making the cups rattle.

Bryce hugged his head, voice low. “I don’t know. That night… I met Autumn at the school gate. She looked sick. It was raining, she didn’t have an umbrella. I hugged her, and she didn’t push me away.”

His voice broke, the memory raw and unfinished.

Then, Bryce said, he took Autumn to a motel to shower and change.

He spoke quietly, the shame thick in his voice. The details were matter-of-fact, but the pain was real.

After showering, Autumn sat on the bed, silent. He sat across from her.

The room was silent, save for the rain tapping on the window.

Suddenly, Autumn looked up and asked, ‘You’ll always be good to me, right?’

He said yes, then Autumn hugged him, and they slept together.

His voice trailed off, the words barely audible.

“Impossible! Autumn wouldn’t have slept with you. She didn’t even like you!” Carter’s eyes were red, staring at Bryce like he wanted to tear him apart.

He looked ready to leap across the table, but something held him back.

Bryce gave a bitter smile, looked at me. “Then the secret lover is either Morgan or Tyler.”

His voice was hollow, the accusation more plea than threat.

Carter crossed his arms, deep in thought. After a while, he said to me, “Tyler once peeked at Autumn outside the classroom. I caught him, and you defended him. Isn’t the secret lover Tyler?”

He leaned in, eyes searching mine for a crack.

Good, it’s almost time. I took a deep breath. “Let me tell you a story.”

I let the words hang, building suspense. Carter hated not knowing where things were going.

“At first, Autumn found a journal in the library, full of someone’s secrets. That person was desperate to get it back, afraid others would know. Autumn promised to keep it secret, and to reassure him, wrote her own secret on the last page. From then on, they exchanged journals.”

I watched Carter’s face, looking for a flicker of recognition.

Carter scoffed. “Sounds like Tyler—always timid.”

He rolled his eyes, but his fingers drummed nervously on the table.

“Gradually, he developed feelings for Autumn, but couldn’t call it love. He didn’t even know what it was, just that he was obsessed.”

I let the word hang. Obsession was something Carter understood all too well.

“So what? Tyler found out Autumn was pregnant, couldn’t take it, and killed her?”

His tone was mocking, but his eyes darted to the door.

“He noticed Autumn was unhappy. Eventually, he saw her secret in the journal, got angry, but still wanted to protect her, be her shadow.”

I could feel the tension ratcheting up. The truth was close, almost within reach.

Carter frowned. “So after all that, you think Tyler isn’t the murderer?”

He leaned back, arms crossed, daring me to contradict him.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. He’s emotionally unstable, always suppressing himself, afraid of being disliked, so he tries to be a good guy.”

I looked at my hands, remembering the times Tyler had disappeared for days, only to return with a forced smile.

Carter frowned deeply, thinking for a long time.

He stared at the table, lost in thought. The silence was thick.

I looked at him. “So, do you think Tyler is the most suspicious now?”

I let the question hang, watching Carter squirm.

Carter froze, then suddenly changed expression, as if I’d seen through him. He was angry and embarrassed, struggling to hide it. “Say what you mean. Stop beating around the bush.”

His voice was sharp, the mask slipping.

“You always liked to control Autumn. That night, what were you doing?”

I met his gaze, refusing to look away.

He looked up at me, sneering. “You can’t even protect yourself, and you care about me?”

He tried to sound amused, but his hands shook.

I calmly continued, “Remember I ran into you on the second floor, just as you were coming out of the bathroom? And Bryce said they heard crying and saw a suspicious figure. That was you, wasn’t it?”

I watched his reaction closely. His jaw tightened.

“So what? I just wanted to set the mood,” Carter replied, still looking indifferent.

He shrugged, but the lie was obvious.

“I bet you planned it: the strange crying would draw out Autumn’s secret lover to protect her. So you didn’t stay by her side, but watched from the shadows. But you were spotted by Bryce and Autumn, so you hid for a while. Later, you came back to the second floor and ran into me. Really, you were looking for Autumn.”

I leaned forward, pressing the point home.

Carter snorted. “So what if you’re right? I just wanted to see who was bothering Autumn.”

He tried to sound dismissive, but his eyes were wild.

I smiled, staring at him. “If that’s true, you should know best how Autumn disappeared, right?”

I held his gaze, daring him to lie.

For the first time, Carter’s pupils reflected my image.

He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

After a few seconds of silence, Carter stared at me like I was a riddle. “I lost track of her. Never found her. That’s it.”

His voice was flat, empty.

His focused look made my blood boil. I had to take a deep breath to calm myself. I lifted my chin, trying to look down on him. “No, you met Tyler.”

I watched for a flicker of guilt. There it was—a shadow in his eyes.

His tone got a little rushed. “You’ve kept in touch with him all these years? You two were close. What did he tell you?”

His voice was sharp, almost panicked.

I slowed my speech, savoring it. “Tyler did tell me. He met you on the fifth floor. You asked if he’d seen Autumn, he said no, then told you not to interfere so much in her life, since you were just friends. Only your parents were close. You two argued.”

I watched Carter’s face, the way his lips pressed into a thin line.

“And then?” Carter’s expression shifted, less calm, but still steady. “What’s that got to do with Autumn’s disappearance?”

He tried to sound bored, but his eyes darted around the room.

“Don’t rush, I’m getting there. While you argued, Autumn showed up. You took her away. Tyler was about to leave, but felt your relationship with Autumn was off—your control almost obsessive.”

I let the words sink in. Carter’s fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the table.

Carter leaned forward, glaring at me. “So you think I killed Autumn?”

His voice was low, dangerous.

Bryce, silent for a long time, suddenly sat up and said to Carter, “After we regrouped and found Autumn missing, you said we should search together, not split up. We searched the building but didn’t find her. You said maybe she went home, told us to go back. The next day, you said she never returned and called the police.”

His voice was shaky, but the accusation was clear.

I got excited, clapped, and said to Carter, “Is it possible you killed Autumn and hid her? To keep us from finding out, you suggested we search together, then waited for us to leave before burying the body?”

I watched Carter’s face for any sign of guilt.

Carter’s eyes started to dart. “If that’s true, why would I call you here? Walk into a trap?”

His voice was brittle, the confidence slipping.

“Maybe you want a scapegoat,” I said. “Too bad, your plan failed.”

I kept my tone light, but my hands trembled under the table.

Carter folded his hands under his chin, silent for a while, then said, “Actually, it’s your plan that failed.”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

I looked at Carter with interest. The show wasn’t at its climax yet. “Before I came here, Tyler sent me an email. Do you know what he wrote?”

I watched for any sign of recognition. Carter just stared back, stone-faced.

He looked unmoved.

His poker face was good, but not perfect. I pressed on.

This is Tyler’s account:

I saw Carter forcibly drag Autumn away, so I felt uneasy and went back.

Tyler’s words echoed in my mind. He’d always been the quiet one, but he saw more than he let on.

I heard voices from a classroom, so I snuck into the next room.

The floor creaked under his weight, but he moved quietly, afraid to be noticed.

The wall was damaged, leaving an irregular hole. I peeked through and saw Carter and Autumn talking. Both looked upset.

He described the scene in detail—the way Autumn’s fists were clenched, Carter’s jaw tight with anger.

Carter said, “Autumn, you can’t go abroad. Stay here, I’ll take care of everything.”

His voice was pleading, but there was an edge of command.

Autumn replied, “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be your puppet, don’t want to live in a cage. My dad died young, you cared for me like a brother, and I’m grateful. But Carter, you’re not my brother. We’re just friends. Let me go.”

Her voice was firm, but her hands shook. Tyler said she sounded tired—tired of being watched, tired of being controlled.

Carter got emotional. “It’s not like that, Autumn. You know, I… I love you. That’s why I want to protect you. Everything I did was to protect you.”

He reached for her, but she pulled away, her face twisted with anger and fear.

“You know, I always saw you as a good friend.” Autumn paused. “Carter, I know how you got your research project spot.”

Carter was shocked. “How did you know?”

His voice was barely above a whisper, fear creeping in.

“It doesn’t matter. Just don’t interfere in my life anymore,” Autumn said.

She stood, ready to leave, but Carter grabbed her arm.

Carter suddenly grabbed her arm. “Are you threatening me? I was so good to you, and you threaten me?”

His grip was tight, desperate.

Autumn shook him off and shouted, “If you keep this up, I’ll let everyone know who you really are…”

Her voice echoed in the empty room, trembling with fury.

Before she could finish, Carter covered her mouth and shoved her to the ground.

The moment stretched, silent and awful. Tyler said he wanted to run in, but his legs wouldn’t move.

I wanted to stop him, but at that moment, a voice in my head said: this is your chance. You can use this against Carter—maybe it’ll come in handy someday.

Tyler’s guilt was heavy, but so was his fear. He stayed hidden, watching.

I hesitated, didn’t dare watch, but knew Autumn must be struggling. I heard Carter’s low, tearful voice: “Why… You’re with them, but never look at me. Why? No one else can have you…”

The words were muffled, but the pain was clear. Tyler said he’d never heard Carter sound so lost.

I don’t know how long it was before it went quiet. Only then did I dare peek. Autumn was lying motionless, Carter sitting beside her, panting.

Tyler’s voice broke as he described it. He said he’d never felt so helpless.

I couldn’t miss my only chance. I took out my phone and snapped a photo.

His hands shook so badly, he almost dropped the phone. But he got the picture.

Then Carter hid Autumn in the podium cabinet and called everyone to gather.

He moved quickly, methodically, as if he’d done it before. Tyler watched, frozen.

“Wonderful,” Carter said, clapping mockingly. “Where’s Tyler, your witness? Where’s his photo?”

His sarcasm was sharp, but I saw the fear in his eyes.

I said, “When the news about Autumn broke, Tyler thought it was finally time to blackmail you with the photo, but you killed him.”

I watched his face for any flicker of guilt, any sign that I’d hit the mark.

Carter stared at me coldly. “Then where’s the photo? Show me.”

His voice was icy, but I could see the panic beneath the surface.

The show was finally at its climax. I felt invigorated, every nerve tingling. “You’re so calm because you took his phone and destroyed the photo, right?”

I leaned in, letting the words sink in. The air crackled with tension.

Carter spread his hands. “So you have no photo. You’re framing me. The murderers are you and Tyler. As for your email, you two staged it.”

He tried to sound smug, but his hands shook.

I wasn’t worried. He didn’t know my trump card, but I was about to know his.

I could feel the momentum shifting. I pressed on.

I continued, “But you have no proof. We each have our own story. I have an email as evidence. What do you have?”

I watched Carter’s face, waiting for the mask to crack.

“Have you heard of survivor bias?” He smiled, looking at me and Bryce.

The smile was cold, predatory.

I understood. “Only the living get to tell the story. You want to kill me and pin it on me?”

My voice was steady, but my heart raced.

He shook his head. “Bryce is still here. How could I frame you?”

His voice was almost gentle, but the threat was real.

Bryce looked terrified, but was too weak to speak, struggling helplessly.

He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable.

Carter continued, “If I’m the only one left, and you left something like a journal with a detailed confession, what do you think will happen?”

He leaned forward, voice soft and deadly. The plan was clear: wipe the slate clean, rewrite the story with himself as the sole survivor.

So that was his plan: find out what we know, pick the most suspicious scapegoat, make it look like the scapegoat tried to kill him but died, and he survives.

It was neat, tidy, and utterly ruthless. Classic Carter.

Carter put on gloves, brought out a white plastic bucket from the kitchen, and the smell of gasoline filled the air.

The sharp, chemical scent hit me like a slap. He wasn’t bluffing.

He unscrewed the lid, kicked it over, and spoke slowly, as if telling a story:

“Ten years ago, Tyler secretly dated Autumn. Later, Autumn got pregnant, but not by him. Out of hatred, Tyler conspired with Morgan to kill Autumn and buried her in the wild. Ten years later, Autumn’s bones were found. Morgan, afraid of being exposed, killed Tyler, then gathered old friends to kill them all. In the fire, I fought with Morgan. He was injured, and only I escaped.”

His voice was calm, almost hypnotic. He’d rehearsed this story a thousand times.

“Carter.” I called his name softly. “You’re really delusional.”

I met his gaze, refusing to flinch.

He glanced at me like I was already dead, then took out a lighter.

The flame flickered, casting shadows on the walls. My pulse thundered in my ears.

“Carter, don’t you think it’s odd? Bryce can barely speak, but I’ve been talking to you this whole time.”

I let the words hang, watching the realization dawn in his eyes.

He froze for a second, fear flooding his eyes.

He looked down at his shaking hands, then at the untouched coffee in front of me.

The next moment, he collapsed heavily to the ground.

His body hit the floor with a dull thud. The lighter rolled away, spinning in a lazy arc.

I stretched my arms, twisted my sore neck, and said, “Carter, you never cared about me. You didn’t even notice whether I drank the coffee.”

I stood, rolling my shoulders, the relief flooding through me. I’d played my part well.

I never actually drank Carter’s coffee—just pretended to sip, held it in my mouth, and spat it out while eating cake. No one noticed.

It was a trick I’d learned in high school, back when fitting in meant everything. Old habits die hard.

Carter’s head was bleeding. He struggled to sit up, staring at Tyler in disbelief.

His eyes widened, then narrowed in confusion. He hadn’t seen this coming.

“To guard against you, Tyler and I scoped out the place early. Tyler hid in the utility room. Now, you don’t need to talk—just listen.” As I spoke, I deliberately leaned in, wanting to catch every subtle change in Carter’s expression, as beautiful as a breeze rippling a lake.

I watched his face closely, savoring every flicker of fear and regret.

“Do you know why Tyler and I always got along? Because we’re alike—both invisible nobodies, but unwilling to stay that way. We want to be noticed, so we have to be both bold and careful. People like us, making deals with you, would never leave ourselves with no way out.”

The words tasted bittersweet. For once, I felt seen.

I told Carter the truth.

The morning after Autumn’s news broke, I got a call from Tyler. He was dying. If I’d been ten minutes later, he would have died alone at the cliff.

The desperation in his voice was something I’ll never forget. He sounded like a man with nothing left to lose.

He’d witnessed you killing Autumn, knew what kind of person you were, so he was cautious—deliberately choosing Fox Ridge, which he knew well, as the meeting spot.

He planned every detail, leaving nothing to chance. It was the only way to survive.

He also knew the risk. But ten years ago, he did nothing and got your secret. Now, with Autumn’s bones found, the police would investigate, and you’d be most vulnerable.

He was betting everything on one last move.

That night, you showed up as agreed, but he still lost the bet. You were even more ruthless. You stabbed him when he wasn’t looking. If he hadn’t been on guard, you’d have killed him.

The wound was deep, but not fatal. He managed to crawl away, bleeding and terrified.

He ran toward the cliff on purpose, knowing there was a narrow ledge below. If he could jump there, he’d survive and make you think he was dead.

It was a crazy gamble, but it worked. Barely.

To make you relax, he dropped his phone for you to find, with evidence of your crime. But he had another phone and had copied the photo.

He was always one step ahead, even when he was scared out of his mind.

Though he landed on the ledge, he passed out from his injuries. When he woke, it was almost dawn, and he called me for help.

His voice was weak, but determined. I got to him just in time.

I saved him, and he told me what happened that night. He felt guilty for not saving Autumn, so he rarely contacted me.

His guilt was a living thing, eating at him every day.

I understood him, really. That desperate desire to be seen, to be taken seriously. He was too ordinary. No matter how hard he tried, he was still as small as an ant.

I knew that feeling all too well.

Not like you, not like Bryce. From birth, you shone—still dazzling even if covered in dust.

I let the words hang, letting Carter feel the weight of them.

Carter didn’t argue, because my account matched what happened between him and Tyler that night.

He just stared at the floor, beaten.

After Tyler fell, Carter probably thought he couldn’t have survived, but he couldn’t tolerate any loose ends. Since Tyler saw his crime, what about the others? Did anyone else notice? Were there any other time bombs like Tyler?

He was always looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next threat.

He wasn’t sure, and must have been anxious, so he organized this reunion in Autumn’s name.

It was his last move, a final attempt to control the narrative.

“Carter, nothing more to say? It’s over.”

My voice was gentle, almost kind. The fight was gone from him.

I thought, when I finally said this, I’d be overjoyed. Since I learned the truth, I’d been waiting to trample Carter’s pride, to expose his crimes in front of old friends.

But seeing his suppressed anger, fear, and despair, still trying to hold onto his dignity, I suddenly felt—maybe we’re all the same, all fragile.

For a moment, I saw myself in him. The need to be seen, to matter. It hurt more than I expected.

“Morgan…” I heard a faint voice. It was Bryce calling me. “Thank you… for saving us.”

His voice was barely a whisper, but the gratitude was real. I nodded, feeling something loosen in my chest.

In the eyes of Bryce and Tyler, I saw myself—tall, a little twisted, but beautiful. I felt an unprecedented joy, happier than defeating Carter.

For the first time, I felt like I belonged. It was fleeting, but it was enough.

“Morgan, what now? Call the police?” Tyler asked me.

He looked at me, eyes wide with fear and hope.

I stood up, looked around. The air was full of dust.

The sunlight slanted through the windows, catching the motes in the air. Everything felt suspended, waiting.

“Ten years, Tyler—are you satisfied?” I asked.

My voice was soft, but the question was sharp.

“What?” Tyler didn’t understand.

He looked confused, but I pressed on.

“You betrayed your conscience to get Carter’s secret, but ended up with nothing. Are you satisfied?”

I watched his face for any sign of regret.

Tyler sighed, shaking his head. “I’ve already died once. I accept it.”

His voice was hollow, the fight gone from him.

“But I don’t,” I said.

The words surprised even me. I wasn’t ready to let go.

“Then what will you do? You can’t control Carter. It’s better to let the police handle it.”

Tyler looked at me, pleading. He wanted to be done with it all.

“Tyler, do you know what it’s like to be seen?” I asked suddenly. He froze, not understanding.

He blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“Morgan, what’s wrong?” he asked, wary.

His voice trembled, but I barely heard it.

It was time to fulfill my promise. My nose stung, and tears fell.

The tears came without warning, hot and blinding. I wiped them away, but they kept coming.

The first time I met Carter was at freshman orientation, where he spoke on behalf of the new students.

He stood at the podium, confident and poised, every word landing like a promise.

He was so composed, every gesture full of pride and confidence.

He seemed untouchable, the kind of person everyone wanted to be.

To be friends with someone like that, I thought, would make me visible to others.

I watched him from the back of the auditorium, longing to be noticed.

Tyler thought the same, and quickly acted, helping Carter set up the mystery club.

He was always good at making himself useful, finding ways to belong.

After the club was founded, he joined as he wished. I begged him to bring me in too—it wasn’t easy.

I spent weeks trailing after Tyler, trying to prove I was worth the trouble.

At first, Carter didn’t want many members. He chose those who stood out and admired him.

He liked being the center of attention, the sun we all orbited.

So, the rich, influential Bryce joined.

Bryce fit right in—money, charm, good looks. He was everything I wasn’t.

As for me, I was nothing. Tyler stayed because he was willing to be the “lackey.”

Tyler didn’t mind being overlooked, as long as he was close to the action.

To join the club, I fetched water and food for Carter for a semester, and with Tyler’s lobbying, I finally got in.

It was humiliating, but I did it. Anything to belong.

I thought that way I’d finally be noticed. But in fact, both Tyler and I stayed invisible—in the club, in class.

No matter how hard we tried, we were always on the outside looking in.

When I was about to give up, I met Autumn.

She changed everything, just by seeing me.

That day, I was studying in the library when the RA called, saying the dorm’s microwave had caught fire and I should hurry back.

I packed my things in a rush, heart pounding. The journal was the last thing I grabbed—or so I thought.

I quickly packed up, but accidentally left my journal behind. I only realized after leaving, so I rushed back. The journal held a secret—if found, my life would be over.

Panic clawed at my throat as I retraced my steps. I prayed no one had found it.

When I returned, I saw Autumn reading my journal.

She sat by the window, head bent over the pages. My heart stopped.

I blushed, snatched the journal, and was about to run when Autumn called out.

Her voice was gentle, not accusing. I froze, caught between shame and relief.

She said, “Sorry, I was just looking for the owner’s name to return it. I didn’t mean to read your journal.”

She smiled, apologetic. I wanted to believe her.

I didn’t answer, wanting to leave, but she went on, “You look uneasy. How about this: I’ll tell you one of my secrets, and we’ll call it even.”

She picked up a pen and seriously wrote a few lines on the last page.

Her handwriting was neat, careful. She looked up at me, eyes shining.

After writing, she handed the journal back to me with both hands. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.” Then she winked at me.

I felt my face burn. I took the journal and bolted, heart pounding.

My heart pounded. I took the journal and ran out of the library.

I didn’t stop running until I reached the dorm. Only then did I dare to open the journal and see what she’d written.

Later that day, I checked the last page. She’d written: “I’m not happy. I have a very controlling friend. Strange, right? He’s my father’s friend’s son. We grew up together. He protects me like a brother, but seems stuck in that role. Sometimes I think he’ll kill me.”

The words chilled me, but also made me feel less alone.

Months later, I saw Autumn in the club. Carter introduced her as his childhood friend, like a sister.

She smiled at everyone, but her eyes lingered on me for a moment. I wondered if she recognized me.

But Autumn didn’t recognize me. I used to have long hair covering half my face, but now I had a neat short cut.

I’d changed more than I realized. Maybe she had, too.

One day at a club meeting, I secretly slipped a note into Autumn’s bag.

My hands shook as I wrote it. I almost chickened out, but forced myself to go through with it.

It said: I’m the one who lost the journal in the library. Don’t ask how I found you. Friday at 8 p.m., in the flower bed behind the gym near the stone bridge, there’s a brown wooden box with my journal. Open it.

I hid the box myself, then waited, nerves jangling.

I was nervous, not sure if Autumn would go, maybe she forgot me, or thought I was a stalker, a weirdo.

The doubt gnawed at me all week. Friday night, I barely slept.

After ten on Friday, I snuck to the flower bed, too nervous to breathe.

The air was cool, the grass damp under my shoes. I crouched in the shadows, waiting.

To my surprise, the journal was gone. In the box was Autumn’s note: Of course I remember, long-haired weirdo—haha, just kidding. Come get the journal Wednesday night at the same place. If you agree, every Friday I’ll read your journal, every Wednesday you read mine. On graduation day, we’ll meet for real.

Her handwriting was playful, full of life. I smiled, tears prickling my eyes.

On graduation day, we’ll meet for real.

Those words became my anchor, something to hold onto when everything else felt uncertain.

Autumn—she saw me, really saw me. Not my looks, not my background, but my words—my soul. She saw my soul, and let me see hers.

It was a gift I never expected, and never forgot.

In the short time after, she opened her heart, shared almost everything, and kept my biggest secret.

She trusted me, even when I didn’t trust myself.

“On graduation day, we’ll meet for real.” I repeated, “Before I fulfill this promise, Carter, I have one more thing to tell you.”

I turned to Carter, my voice steady. The truth was a weight I was finally ready to set down.

I leaned down, looking at the battered Carter. Though injured, he straightened up.

He tried to look proud, but the fight was gone from his eyes.

I couldn’t stand his upright look; he should be a pile of mud. “The child Autumn was carrying was yours.”

I let the words hang, watching the shock ripple through the room.

He froze for a few seconds. I didn’t need to look back to know the others were shocked too.

The silence was thick, suffocating.

I continued, “I was Autumn’s shadow, the one who exchanged journals with her. I know all her secrets.”

My voice was soft, but the words were sharp as knives.

Autumn wrote in her journal:

That night, Mom worked late, told me to stay at Carter’s. His parents weren’t home. He barged in drunk, said he loved me, begged me not to leave. I was scared, tried to run, but he pinned me to the bed…

The words blurred on the page, but I forced myself to keep reading.

Afterwards, he passed out. I knew he always blacked out after drinking, never remembered what happened.

The guilt was hers alone to carry. She never told a soul.

I thought if I never said anything, it would stay buried forever.

She hoped silence would keep her safe.

But I got pregnant. I absolutely couldn’t let him know, or I’d never escape him.

Her fear was palpable, even now.

What should I do…

She wrote the words over and over, as if searching for an answer.

I thought of a plan. I don’t know if it would work. Maybe it’s my only chance.

She was desperate, but determined.

Long-haired weirdo, I don’t want you to worry, so I can’t tell you my plan yet.

She wanted to protect me, even then.

When we meet, I’ll tell you everything.

She never got the chance. The words are all I have left.

Today, I finally know what Autumn’s plan was. She deliberately slept with Bryce, then told him she was pregnant with his child, asking him to take her away.

It was a last-ditch effort, a gamble for freedom.

Though I never saw her writing in her journal, I can imagine her round face full of determination.

I can see her now, biting her lip, eyes shining with hope and fear.

I don’t care whose child Autumn was carrying. I just wanted her to be happy, but Carter ruined it all.

The anger burned in my chest, hot and bright.

Exposing Carter’s crime might not destroy him, but knowing he killed his own child surely would. I wanted him to know he killed his own child.

It was the only justice I could offer.

As expected, Carter, who had just been glaring, now had only a deep, gray emptiness in his eyes, as if swallowed by an abyss.

He looked like a man who’d finally realized the world was ending.

“Morgan, is it over?” Tyler looked at me, worried. “I’ll call the police.”

His voice was shaky, but determined. I nodded, but something inside me shifted.

“Wait.” I wiped my tears, looked at Tyler. “I understand your choice back then, like I said before. But that person was Autumn.”

My voice was cold, the grief sharp as broken glass.

I walked to him, stared into his eyes, saw panic and hesitation. I couldn’t wait. I took out a folding knife and stabbed his abdomen as fast as I could. He couldn’t dodge, clutching his wound, staggering back. I stabbed him a few more times, but left him barely alive.

The blood soaked his shirt, pooling on the floor. He looked at me, betrayed and afraid.

“Autumn never knew the shadow in her journal was me. It’s all your fault,” I said coldly.

My voice was flat, empty. The rage had burned away, leaving only ash.

I looked at Carter, sitting on the ground, covered in dust and blood, still beautiful. “Thank you for organizing this reunion, for giving me the chance to end it myself.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the floor. The fight was gone from him.

Carter didn’t lift his head, unmoving, as if already dead.

He looked smaller now, shrunken by guilt and pain.

I glanced at Bryce, his face ashen. In this moment, he must have seen my soul, understood my resolve, and stopped struggling.

He slumped in his chair, tears streaming down his face. There was nothing left to say.

“Let’s go see Autumn. I have to keep my promise.” I smiled at them.

The smile felt strange on my lips, but it was real.

Autumn seemed to stand among us, hands on her hips, as petite, cute, and stubborn as ever.

I could almost hear her laugh, see the spark in her eyes.

“Autumn, it’s me, Morgan—the one who wrote the journal,” I said to her in my heart.

I closed my eyes, letting the memory of her fill me one last time.

She smiled, ruffling her short hair. “Haha, long-haired weirdo, so it was you…”

Her voice was warm, forgiving. I felt lighter, somehow.

I smiled too, tears instantly blurring my vision.

The grief and relief mingled, impossible to separate.

The black Lakeside Café stood on the artificial lake like a lump of charcoal.

Smoke curled from the roof, the water reflecting the flames. It was over.

Outside, it was bustling—firefighters in orange jackets packing up, police working in groups, and the charred bodies carried out of Lakeside Café were covered with white sheets, lined up for forensic examination.

The scene was chaotic, but methodical. The world moved on, even as ours had ended.

“Captain, the identities of the deceased have been confirmed,” a young detective reported. “Three males: Carter Jennings, Bryce Moreno, Tyler Grant, and one…”

He hesitated, glancing at the clipboard, unsure how to proceed.

The police captain frowned, annoyed. “Why are you stammering?”

He didn’t have time for theatrics. The paperwork was already piling up.

The young detective scratched his head. “One hermaphrodite—Morgan Lee.”

The captain blinked, then nodded, scribbling the names down. The story of Autumn Harris—and all of us—was finally over, at least on paper. But in Silver Hollow, some secrets echo forever, just like the wind across the lake.