Chapter One: The Knife in Her Hand
"No, please… I didn't do it. I'm innocent! Chloe, stop!"
The blade gleams under moonlight, just before it comes down. I scream. Her eyes, dark and angry, never blink.
Then—silence.
I jolt awake, soaked in sweat. My breath comes in shallow gasps. The dream again. The exact same one. Same alley. Same blood. Same look on her face like I'm the one who killed her.
I grab my phone. 3:16 a.m. My room is silent, lit only by the faint blue glow of my nightlight. I stare at the ceiling, listening to the pounding of my heart.
This is the 39th night in a row.
My therapist calls them "manifestations of grief." Nightmares caused by trauma, guilt, maybe even denial. She says it's normal after losing someone so close.
But Chloe doesn't feel like a dream.
She feels real. Angry. Watching me.
And I can't help wondering… what if she is?
---
I met Chloe when we were twelve. She was the loud, wild one—mismatched socks, bubblegum lip gloss, always starting trouble and dragging me into it. We were inseparable. I was the quiet one, the one teachers trusted. She was my chaos, and I loved her for it.
She died six months ago.
A fall from the bridge. Late at night. No witnesses.
They ruled it accidental. Said she must have lost her balance. But her mom swears she wouldn't have gone there alone.
And me? I don't remember that night at all.
Just flashes.
Chloe's voice. Her face. Screaming. A hand reaching for me—then blackness.
---
I drag myself to campus around 10 a.m. Cami, my roommate, raises an eyebrow from across the table in the dining hall.
"You look like hell," she says through a bite of cereal.
"Thanks. You're glowing as usual," I mumble.
"No nightmares last night?"
I don't answer.
She doesn't press. She's been good about that lately. She knows I'm unraveling, and she doesn't know how to stop it. Neither do I.
Instead, I sip my cold coffee and pretend I'm fine.
---
Later that day, I do something stupid.
I scroll through Chloe's old Instagram. The posts are still there—photos of us in high school, her in red lipstick flipping off the camera, me laughing beside her. I tap on the one from our last night together.
"One more night with my ride or die 🔪💋 #ChloeAndAva #NoRegrets"
The photo is blurry. We're at the bridge. I don't remember this. I don't remember smiling like that.
Beneath the post, a comment chills me:
"U didn't deserve her. U'll pay."
It was posted yesterday.
My blood runs cold.
I click the profile. No posts. No followers. Just the name: @justiceforchloe
I block it immediately—but my hands are still shaking.
Who would send that? Why now?
Unless…
I glance at the time. 3:16 p.m.
Twelve hours exactly since the dream.
I try to breathe, to focus. But a thought won't stop scratching at the back of my mind.
What if this isn't grief?
What if someone wants me to remember what I've forgotten?
---
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.
And someone wants me to remember more than just a nightmare.
Someone wants me to remember everything.
Even if it kills me.
---
I lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding. I think about Chloe's voice in the dream—"You promised." What promise? What did I forget?
A sudden idea hits me.
The locket.
Chloe had given me a small silver locket on my birthday last year. I haven't touched it in months. I dig through my old jewelry box and find it, tangled in a chain.
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.
I stare at the note until the letters blur.
Who is 'them'?
And what exactly did they do to Chloe?