Vanessa's POV
The note didn't leave my mind all night.
I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the handwriting again sharp, slanted, angry:
"You think you can trust him? Think again. He's lying to you. Stay away from Alexis before it's too late."
I kept the paper under my pillow like it might explode if I let it out of sight.
The next morning, my stomach twisted at the sight of Alexis waiting for me outside school, holding two steaming cups.
"Tea," he said, holding one out. "Like we said."
I hesitated for the briefest moment long enough for him to notice.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
I forced a smile and took the cup. "Yeah. Just... tired."
He gave me a long look but didn't press.
That was the problem with Alexis he knew how to hold his silence so well it made yours scream louder.
Classes dragged. I couldn't concentrate. The words on the board blurred, and I kept glancing sideways at him, wondering:
What lie?
Who wrote it?
Why now?
I wanted to believe it was some mean kid trying to stir up drama. But how would they know where I kept my diary? Or when to sneak the note inside?
Only one thought made sense and it made my skin crawl.
Someone in my house.
By lunch, I was too anxious to eat. I picked at my bread as Alexis scrolled on his phone beside me. A few classmates chatted at another table, and the buzz of conversation felt far away.
I took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something?"
He glanced at me. "Yeah."
"What's the worst thing you've ever done?"
He froze. His fingers stopped scrolling.
"Where's that coming from?" he asked, carefully.
"I'm just curious."
Alexis stared at his phone screen for a long second, then slowly locked it and set it down.
He didn't look at me when he answered.
"I let someone down. Badly. Someone I loved."
Silence stretched.
"Did they forgive you?" I asked.
He finally turned to me, his eyes shadowed.
"No."
That night, I locked my bedroom door.
My mother didn't notice. She never did.
Alex and Alexis were already asleep or pretending to be.
I pulled out my diary and stared at the note again.
Something in me snapped.
I grabbed a pen and flipped to the back of the diary.
List of suspects
1. Alexis (my brother)
2. Alex
3. Mom
4. Rose (if she somehow got in)
5. ???
That's the worst part about being paranoid once you start, everyone becomes a suspect.
I stared at Alexis's name the longest.
Would he do that? To protect himself?
But he looked guilty enough just watching me bandage my back. And he never even spoke up when Mom beat me for something he did.
No... this felt different.
And I had a sickening feeling I knew exactly who had written the note.
The next day, I stayed after school and waited outside the west gate the gate where Rose always got picked up.
Sure enough, ten minutes later, she strolled out in her usual pink hoodie and dramatic lip gloss.
"Rose," I called.
She stopped, tilted her head. "Vanessa? Surprised you're talking to me."
"Did you write the note in my diary?"
She blinked, then smirked. "What note?"
"You know which one."
"I really don't," she said, playing innocent way too hard.
I took out the folded paper and held it up.
Her eyes flickered just for a second.
"That's not my handwriting," she said.
"You've broken into my room before."
She laughed. "You're so dramatic."
"I'm serious."
"So am I," she said. "You want my advice? Believe the note. Alexis isn't who you think he is."
"Why?" I asked. "What do you know?"
"Ask Claire," she said with a shrug. "She used to be his best friend. She knows everything."
Then she walked off, flipping her hair like it weighed nothing.
Claire.
The name hit me like a thunderclap.
I'd seen her in the halls. Quiet. Pretty in that soft, effortless way. But she never talked to anyone. And she never talked to Alexis.
But if she used to be close with him, maybe she knew what Rose was hinting at.
The next day, I approached Claire during break. My palms were sweaty. She was reading alone near the library windows, sunlight brushing the top of her braids.
"Claire?" I asked.
She looked up.
Her expression didn't change.
"Hi," she said, cautiously.
"Can I ask you something?"
She closed her book slowly. "About what?"
"About Alexis."
She stood up. "No."
"Please just wait. I'm not here to gossip. I just... I need to know the truth."
Claire crossed her arms. "What did he tell you?"
"Nothing. That's the problem."
She sighed. "And now you want my version."
"I just want the truth."
Claire looked me over like she was measuring my soul. Finally, she said:
"He's not evil. He's not innocent, either."
"That doesn't help."
She hesitated, then took a breath.
"Two months before the fire, Alexis used to sleep over at my house sometimes. He was scared. He never said it directly, but... his dad hit him. And his mom."
I froze.
"He told me not to tell. So I didn't. Then one night, the fire started. His mom told him to run. He did."
"And she died."
Claire nodded. "He was standing outside when I got there. Just... staring."
My stomach turned. "Why didn't he go back for her?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "I think he froze. I think part of him thought she'd make it out. Or maybe... he was too scared."
"And you blamed him?"
"I wanted to. But mostly, I blamed myself. For not doing more. For not calling the police sooner. For not forcing him to leave that house."
I swallowed hard.
"He's not a monster, Vanessa. But he is carrying something dark. And if you get close, just be prepared."
"For what?"
Claire's voice softened. "For the moment he pushes you away."
That evening, Alexis didn't walk me home. He texted:
"Not feeling well. See you tomorrow."
I stared at the screen, wondering how much he knew. If he suspected what I was digging up.
I looked at my diary and slowly turned the page.
And started writing.
Diary Entry - Thursday
Today I learned the truth can be a whisper or a wildfire.
And sometimes, it comes from people who already stopped talking.
Claire still cares. I could feel it.
Alexis is hiding something, but maybe not to hurt me. Maybe just to survive.
I still don't know who left the note.
But I know one thing:
I'm not backing away.
Not until I find out who he really is.
Even if it burns me, too.