Eleanor sighed heavily as she approached. She knelt by the grave, placing her rose delicately to the earth. “You didn’t have to go this way, Willow,” she said softly. “There were so manychances for you to change. But you didn’t. You chose this. But I won’t carry your choices with me anymore. This ends today.” Her voice faltered as she stood and stepped away.
Lilia was the last. Her heart raced as she approached the grave. She’d been waiting for this moment, waiting tofinallyrid herself of the shadow of Willow Montgomery.
She knelt down, her knees pressing into the cool earth. She stared at the gravestone, her hand clutching the rose like a lifeline. “You made us into murderers. Liars,” she whispered, her voice raw. “We let you do that. But I refuse to let you have this hold on me any longer, Willow. I release you. I’m done with you.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy and final. She placed the rose gently on the grave, the white petals stark against the dark soil.
For a moment, none of them moved. The wind rustled through the trees, the only sound in the cemetery. It felt like the end of something—something big, something that had held them all captive for so long.
Lilia stood and stopped back, her chest tight with the weight of her own release. She looked at the others, seeing the same weight lifting from their shoulders, the same mixture of relief and exhaustion.
“We’re done,” Augustus said, breaking the silence. “It’s over.”
No one replied, but they all felt it—the strange, disorienting sense of freedom, as though they were waking up from some torrid nightmare.
One by one, they turned and walked away, leaving the white roses to mark their final goodbye to the girl who had brought them all together—and nearly torn them apart.
Willow Montgomery was gone.
Finally, they were free.
December 23rd, 2022
Massachusetts State Penitentiary
Lilia sat stiffly in the hard plastic chair, her eyes fixed on the glass in front of her. On the other side, Professor Jameson stared back, his face impassive, hollow. He was unrecognizable from the man who had once guided her through university halls with a seemingly gentle hand. Now, his presence felt like a gaping void, a man devoid of warmth or remorse.
She lifted the phone to her ear, fingers trembling as she took in the sight of him. He did the same, but his eyes were cold, almost mocking.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was low, devoid of any real emotion. His once comforting demeanor now felt like a weapon.
Lilia’s grip tightened around the phone. “I need to talk to you.”
Jameson smirked, a cruel edge tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m surprised they sent you. You are the weakest link, after all.”
His words hit hard, but Lilia refused to flinch. “Why did you do it? Why us?”
“If you’re looking for some hallelujah revelation from me, you’re not going to get it.” Jameson leaned back, his tone dismissive. “What I told you that day was the truth. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here, Lilia?”
She hesitated, then plunged forward. “The audio, the letters. Why send them instead of just turning us into the police?”
Jameson’s brows furrowed slightly. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with me,” Lilia snapped. “The letters. The ones about that night. What was the point? You could’ve easily used them as leverage, but instead, you just taunted us. Why?”
He paused, considering her for a long moment, before speaking again. “I never sent you letters, Ms. Chen.”
Lilia recoiled, her face tightening with anger. “You’re lying.”
Jameson’s eyes narrowed, his voice unwavering. “I’m not. And something tells me you know that I’m not, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. You want me to have written those letters because if I didn’t, that means someone else is after you.”
Lilia’s heart pounded in her chest. It felt as if the room had suddenly grown smaller, the air thicker. She pressed her hand against the glass, leaning closer. “Just tell me the truth.”
Jameson leaned forward too, his expression calculating. “I only sent the texts. That’s the truth. I have nothing else to lose. I get no satisfaction from lying to you, Lilia.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “You’re lying,” she whispered again, though her conviction was wavering. There was a darkness in his eyes that seemed too genuine, too absolute.
“I never sent those letters,” Jameson said, leaning back in his chair again. “But it seems like you have another issue to worry about.”
Lilia felt her heart sinking. “Wait!” she called out as Jameson made a move to stand. Desperation clawed at her chest. “You have to know something.”
Jameson paused, a sly smile creeping across his face as he slowly sat back down. The silence stretched between them, tense and electric. And then, to Lilia’s shock, he began to hum—a soft, haunting melody that wormed its way into her chest, chilling her to the bone.
Jameson’s smirk deepened. He dropped the phone onto its cradle and stood, his gaze never leaving hers as he walked out of the room, leaving her to sit in the silence of her growing horror.
The letters. They hadn’t come from him.
Someone else was still out there, still watching, still playing their twisted game.
And whoever they were—they weren’t finished yet.
