Chapter twelve— Static Between Thoughts
Aiden didn't try to stop us when we left.
That bothered me more than if he had.
People who are lying usually chase you down. They panic. They overexplain.
Aiden just stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the rain soak into the gravel like he already knew where this road ended.
River didn't speak until we were halfway back to town.
"So," he finally said, voice dry. "That went great. Absolutely normal Tuesday activity. Break into a psych ward, get told our brains are scrambled, meet your childhood best friend who may or may not be a corporate villain."
I snorted before I could stop myself.
It came out wrong — sharp, almost hysterical.
River glanced at me. "Hey. You okay?"
"No," I said. Then added, because humor was easier than honesty, "But I think that ship sailed around the time my dead brother started sending me scavenger hunts."
He huffed a laugh. It faded quickly.
The rain hit the windshield in uneven rhythms. For a moment, the world felt muted — like someone had turned the volume knob down just enough to make everything feel off.
---
That night, I dreamed of static.
Not images. Not memories.
Just noise.
A low buzzing that crawled under my skin, interrupted by fragments of voices I couldn't understand. Every time I tried to focus on one, it dissolved, replaced by another.
I woke up with a headache and the overwhelming sense that I'd forgotten something important.
Which, apparently, was becoming a theme.
---
School the next day felt unreal.
Like a set built to look normal, but if you pushed hard enough, the walls would wobble.
People stared openly now. No more whispers behind hands. Someone had posted screenshots of the psych ward incident, complete with blurry photos and dramatic captions.
RIVER HALEN + ZARA MYLES = INSANE?
WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO ELI MYLES?
SCHOOL COVER-UP EXPOSED???
I tore one flyer down near the lockers.
River tore down three more.
"On the bright side," he said, "we're trending."
"I hate you," I muttered.
"No you don't."
I didn't deny it.
---
Halden cornered us after third period.
He leaned against the hallway wall like this was all casual — like he wasn't a vice principal who knew far too much about a dead kid's secret list.
"You two are becoming a problem," he said mildly.
River smiled. "We prefer the term persistent."
Halden's eyes flicked to him, unimpressed. Then back to me.
"Zara," he said. "Grief does strange things to people. It convinces them there's meaning where there isn't. Patterns where there are only coincidences."
I stared at him. "You rehearse that in the mirror?"
Something hardened in his expression.
"Careful," he said. "You don't want to end up like Hannah Veer."
That did it.
River stepped forward, jaw tight. "You don't get to threaten her."
Halden straightened. "That wasn't a threat. That was concern."
He walked away before either of us could respond.
River exhaled slowly. "I officially don't like him."
"Wow," I said. "Bold take."
---
That afternoon, I went through Eli's sketchbook again.
Not searching — just… reading. Letting my eyes wander.
The problem with looking for answers is that you expect them to announce themselves. But Eli's notes didn't work like that. They were layered. Half-thoughts. Jokes scribbled in the margins.
One page caught my attention:
A list of fears.
Not the dramatic kind. No death, no monsters.
– Forgetting why I started
– Being right too late
– Trusting the wrong person
– Being remembered as a problem instead of a person
My throat tightened.
He hadn't been scared of dying.
He'd been scared of disappearing.
---
That night, River texted me.
River: random question
Me: that's never a good sign
River: do you ever feel like you're reacting wrong to things
Me: define "wrong"
River: like… you know how you should feel
but whatever you're feeling is slightly off
Me: all the time
River: cool cool cool
River: hate that
I stared at the screen for a long time before typing:
Me: maybe "normal" is overrated
He replied with a single word.
River: maybe
---
Two days later, Number Ten made themselves known.
They didn't leave a note.
They left a voicemail.
It came from Eli's old phone — the one that had been dead for over a year.
River played it in his car, volume low.
At first, it was just breathing.
Then Eli's voice — distorted, like it was being dragged through water.
"—if you're hearing this, it means I was right. And I'm sorry. I didn't want you involved. I really didn't. But they don't erase everyone evenly. Some of us glitch."
A pause. Static.
"Number Ten didn't mean to hurt anyone. That's the worst part. They just followed instructions."
The message cut off.
River sat back slowly. "Okay. That's new."
My hands were shaking. "He said 'instructions.'"
"Yeah," River said quietly. "Which means someone's giving them."
---
We didn't talk about Seraph that night.
Or erased memories. Or childhood experiments.
Instead, we sat on the hood of River's car, eating fries that had gone cold, watching the sky turn a bruised purple.
"Hey," he said suddenly. "If all this turns out to be nothing — just grief and paranoia and bad coincidences — I don't regret any of it."
I looked at him. "Even breaking into a psych ward?"
"Especially that."
I smiled — small, real.
Then the smile faded.
"River," I said. "If one day I start acting different… if I stop trusting you—"
He cut me off. "I won't let you disappear."
The way he said it — not dramatic, not heroic — just certain.
It scared me more than any threat.
---
That night, alone in my room, I noticed something new.
A faint buzzing in my ears.
Not painful. Just… there.
Like static between thoughts.
I pressed my palms to my temples, heart racing.
Nothing happened.
No memories flooded back.
No revelations.
No cinematic breakthrough.
Just silence.
And the unsettling realization that whatever they'd done to us…
…it was still working.