Chapter Eleven — Fragments in the Dark
The rain hadn't stopped. It had been falling for hours, drumming on the roof like a heartbeat I couldn't ignore.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying Aiden's words over and over: "They made you forget… the list is active again."
It didn't make sense.
How could someone erase memories?
And why would Eli's disappearance, Hannah's silence, and my own uneasy gut feelings all tie into it?
I tried to tell myself it was paranoia, that I was overthinking.
But then River texted:
> Meet me at the gym. Now.
---
By the time I got there, the air smelled of wet grass and metal.
River was already leaning against the old climbing wall, flashlight in hand.
He didn't look up when I approached.
"River…" I started.
He didn't answer. He just held out a small notebook — one that had belonged to Eli.
I frowned. "What's this?"
"Something he left for me. I found it hidden in the gym storage room last night. I think… he was trying to leave breadcrumbs. For us."
I opened the notebook and flipped carefully through the pages.
Most were covered in Eli's familiar messy handwriting, diagrams of the school, numbers, and strange symbols.
Some pages had drawings that made my stomach twist — spirals, distorted faces, tiny scribbles like echoes of someone screaming.
---
River glanced over my shoulder. "There's something strange about this page."
He pointed to a corner — a tiny symbol I hadn't noticed before, a half-circle with three vertical lines crossing it.
"What is that?" I whispered.
"Don't know," River admitted. "But it appears next to some of the names — including yours. And Aiden's. And…"
He hesitated. "Mine."
I swallowed. "So it's not just a list of witnesses or survivors?"
River shook his head. "No. It's… deeper. Something they were tracking. Something we're part of."
---
The gym was empty, silent except for the hum of the fluorescent lights above.
We sat on the floor, legs crossed, shoulders brushing.
Neither of us spoke for a long time.
I kept thinking about Hannah — the way her eyes had looked in Room 204. Hollow, knowing, broken.
I could almost feel her fear seeping into my own chest.
"Do you ever feel… wrong?" I asked River finally.
"Wrong?"
"Like something happened, but you can't remember what. Like your own brain is hiding it from you."
He went still. "Sometimes. But I always thought it was just stress. Seeing everything happen so fast. Losing Eli."
He looked down, voice quieter. "But maybe… maybe it's more than that."
I swallowed hard. "More than stress?"
He didn't answer. He just stared at the floor. And for the first time, I noticed how tight his hands were clenched, like he was holding something inside he didn't want to say.
---
We decided to follow one of Eli's clues — a symbol he had drawn repeatedly in his notebook, found at the old basement door behind the gym.
It was rusted and chained, but Eli had circled the lock in his drawing, almost like a map.
River and I worked together, slipping the chain loose, the metal groaning under our fingers.
The air that hit us when the door creaked open was musty, cold, and sharp with dust.
I shivered. "It smells… old."
"Yeah," River said. "Like everything here has been waiting for us to come back."
Inside, the basement stretched farther than I expected.
Shadows pooled in corners, and the flashlight beam bounced across walls lined with peeling paint and graffiti.
At the far end, we saw something etched into the concrete floor — the same spirals Eli had drawn in his notebook.
I knelt to trace the lines with my finger.
"Do you think this is… some kind of marker?" I asked.
River nodded. "Or a warning. Either way, Eli wanted us to see it."
---
We didn't notice at first — the soft scrape of shoes against concrete, a shadow moving just beyond the flashlight's reach.
Then the whisper came, low and deliberate:
"Curiosity will cost you."
I froze. My chest tight.
River grabbed my arm. "Stay close."
Another shadow shifted near the wall.
A figure stepped into the beam — tall, hooded, face hidden.
I swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
The figure didn't answer.
Instead, a folded note landed at my feet.
I picked it up. The blue paper.
> Number Eleven is closer than you think.
River's eyes widened. "That's… someone else on the list. And they know we're here."
I held the note with trembling hands.
"Then maybe… we're running out of time."
---
For hours afterward, River and I stayed in the basement, going through Eli's sketches, trying to find anything that might hint at who Number Eleven was — and why they had left that warning.
I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching.
Every gust of wind, every distant footstep made me jump.
And all the while, that whisper in the back of my mind kept growing:
You don't remember everything yet. But soon… you will.
I clenched the notebook to my chest.
And in the darkness, I realized something terrifying:
The past wasn't finished with us.
Not even close.