𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝑾𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝑺𝒂𝒚 ( Unfinished)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

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𝗔 𝗥𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗼𝗻
┗━━━ ❀ ━━━┛
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Maine.

In the northern parts where few people live.

Viviette somehow found Julian within a secluded cabin nestled deep in the woods.

We arrived in silence, our last conversation an intense argument 200 miles back when we stopped for gas. The tension hangs thick, and I sense her quiet discontent, fueled by my insistence on keeping the wheel to myself.

'You have reached your destination,' the GPS announces. I turn off the car, and we sit in darkness. Once my headlights fade, the only light comes from the moon and the soft glow inside the cabin. Viv's car is parked nearby.

Just as I glance over to her, she clicks her seatbelt and opens her door. I'm momentarily left alone. She rounds the car and opens my door. "You coming or what?"

My nails dig into the steering wheel. I can't move. "Elizabeth?" she calls, but I remain paralyzed. She gives an exasperated sigh, reaching over and unbuckling my seatbelt. The cool night air sweeps in as she gently pulls me out of the car. The crunch of gravel beneath our feet is the only sound as we make our way towards the cabin.

The door creaks open; I stand close behind her. Suddenly, she pulls back, startling me. "Oh my god," she says, wiping at her eyes. "Oh my fucking god."

There's muttering inside and shuffling sounds. "I'm going to be sick," she says, pulling away from me. Viv appears in the doorway, fixing her blouse. Behind us, (Y/n) makes barf sounds.

"Oh, grow up!" Viv says with an eye roll before looking at me. She smiles big and pulls me into a hug. Behind her, I see him—a big, bearded lumberjack-like figure.

Julian.

—

Vivette summed up the situation, but he wanted more details—Needed more details.

"Viv, I thought you'd burned everything," he remarked, his gaze fixed on her as he sat in the creaking wooden rocking chair, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees.

She seemed nervous, fidgeting with her fingernails. "I thought I did," she confessed softly, her gaze shifting between him and (Y/n), who lingered near the door, clearly ill at ease.

Swiveling his attention to (Y/n), he probed, "And when did you even get the hoodie?"

She shrugs, shaking her head. "Mid-February," she replies, her gaze flickering towards me for a brief moment. She acted as if she could remember the exact date.

"Mid-February? Can you be a little more specific?" I ask

The look across her face was unclear but she finally speaks up and says, "It was the sixteenth,"

We all knew what day that was—it was my birthday. I felt the urge to flee rising within me, but I resisted. That was her move, not mine.

"Were you alone," he asks, probing further. "when you got it?"

She hesitated, as if something caught in her throat, her gaze darting towards me. A chuckle escaped me, arms crossing over my chest.

"Who was she?" I pressed, eager for answers.

"It doesn't matter. She's not part of this," she replied softly, eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding mine.

"Who sent it to you?" he asked, his curiosity undiminished.

"They arrived in the mail, no return address," she shrugged, her response frustratingly vague.

"They? What else did you get?" he fired off another question.