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lately, nothing has been going the way it should. apparently, there have been more house fires, all caused by the same thing. what was going on? i was scared and confused. i was barely even looking into this fire, and then we got a note telling us to stop digging. someone is really worried that we might find the truth. i hope we do, but i don't want anyone to get hurt.

i went to work that morning wearing an oversized tan tee and long baggy jeans. as i walked, i looked around, the faint smell of smoke from the other houses lingering in the air. the leaves were all shades of orange and red. it would have looked really pretty, but it only reminded me of fire, flames, and what i was getting myself into.

i walked into the bookstore where i worked and checked in. people were already there, having coffee, reading, and browsing records and cds. it seemed like a normal autumn day in somerville, but i knew it wasn't.

as i rang up a young couple buying a stack of poetry books, i noticed a figure outside the shop, lingering just out of view. it looked almost exactly like the person i saw at my house a few nights ago. my heart started racing until the person came through the door. it was just chris.

i let out a long sigh; he had really scared me.

"hey y/n, i was wondering if—" he stopped mid-sentence and looked at me. "you good? you look like you just saw a ghost."

"ha! yeah, i'm good. just got scared for a second. thought you were that person i saw at my house the other day."

chris's expression changed. "yeah, haha."

chris had been acting kinda weird lately. he must have just been shook by what was happening.

"hey, um, during my lunch break, we should go get something to eat. wanna go to the nearby cafe?" i asked chris. i wanted to do some research on the new house fires. something wasn't right.

chris hesitated, his eyes darting to the door and then back to me. "yeah, sure," he replied, his voice unusually tense. "i'll meet you here at noon?"

"sounds good," i said, trying to keep my tone light, though the unease in the air was palpable. as chris left, i couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. he had been distant ever since the fires started, and the way he reacted just now... it wasn't like him.

the morning dragged on, my thoughts tangled between the growing mystery and the familiar routine of work. every time the bell above the door chimed, i found myself glancing up, half-expecting to see that mysterious figure again. but it was always just customers, oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface of somerville.

when noon finally rolled around, chris was already waiting for me at the entrance, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. together, we walked to the nearby café—the one with the creaky wooden floors and the aroma of fresh pastries that usually comforted me. but today, the warmth of the place did little to calm my nerves.

we both ordered, and the small talk between us felt forced. as we sat down at a corner table, i pulled out my phone, pretending to check messages, but really, i was thinking about how to bring up the fires without spooking chris more than he already seemed.

"so," i started, keeping my voice casual, "have you heard anything new about the fires?"

chris tensed, his eyes narrowing as he stirred his coffee. "why do you keep asking about that?" he muttered, barely meeting my gaze.

"i'm just worried, you know?" i replied, trying to sound genuine. "it's hard not to be, with everything going on."

chris nodded slowly, but his unease was obvious. "yeah, i get that. but maybe it's better if we don't... dig too deep. it's dangerous. plus, we got the note saying we should stop, y/n. we should stop."

there it was again—his strange reluctance, the way he kept trying to steer me away from the topic. it only made me more determined to find out the truth.

i leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "chris, if you know something, you have to tell me. we're in this together, right?"

for a moment, chris looked like he might say something, his eyes searching mine as if weighing whether to trust me. but then he shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "i don't know anything more than you do," he said, too quickly. "just... be careful, okay?"

i nodded, but the seed of doubt had already been planted. what was chris hiding? and how much danger was i really in?

the rest of lunch passed in strained silence, both of us avoiding the topic that hung between us like smoke. as we walked back to the bookstore, i couldn't help but glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see someone following us.

but there was no one there.

back at work, i found it hard to focus, my mind racing with possibilities. chris was acting weird, the fires were spreading, and now i was being warned off by mysterious notes. something was definitely wrong in somerville, and if chris wasn't going to help me, then i'd have to figure it out on my own.

as the day drew to a close, i made a decision. i would visit the site of the most recent fire after my shift, see if i could find any clues on my own. maybe there was something everyone else had missed, something that would explain the strange occurrences.

when i closed up the bookstore that evening, the sun was already setting, casting long shadows across the town. i slipped on my jacket and headed toward the burned-out house, the chill in the air doing little to quell the anxiety bubbling in my chest.

as i approached the house, i noticed something strange. the air around it felt heavier, almost oppressive, like the fire had left behind more than just charred wood and ash. i hesitated at the edge of the property, my instincts screaming at me to turn back. but i couldn't. not now.

taking a deep breath, i stepped over the caution tape and into the wreckage, my heart pounding in my ears. the remains of the house creaked ominously, and the smell of smoke still lingered, but there was something else—a faint, almost metallic scent that made my stomach churn.

i began to look around, careful not to disturb anything. nothing seemed out of the ordinary; it looked like an accident if i do say so myself. but something was off; i could feel it. what was going on, though? and if something was wrong, how could i fix it?

Traitor // Short story // The Sturniolo Triplets x reader  (✓)Where stories live. Discover now