Chapter Two ~ Beginning of the End
1200 Words
ONE YEAR LATER
Rebecca stood alone before a single headstone, the rest of the world fading into a hush around her.
The cemetery seemed very cold and awake on this very day. Above, the sky hung low and swollen with heavy clouds that threatened rain but refused to break.
A slow wind drifted through the rows of graves, whispering over stone and grass like fingers turning through pages no one ever wanted to read.
Today was supposed to be her sister's twenty-third birthday.
She didn’t speak at first. She didn’t move. Her hands slipped into the pockets of her dark jacket as she stared at the carved letters, each one cut too deep, like a blade pressed straight into stone—and into her.
VANESSA REYES.
BELOVED SISTER AND FRIEND
BORN 2002 - DIED 2023
It read. The name still felt wrong in stone.
A soft touch landed on her shoulder. She turned slightly. Andre Reyes stood behind her, face solemn, eyes lined with the weight of a father who had lost too much already. He stepped beside Rebecca without a word, their silence folding naturally into the stillness of the graveyard.
“She would be proud to have you as a sister…” Andre said quietly.
Rebecca exhaled, barely holding herself together. “...Today was supposed to be her twenty-third birthday, you know… We had plans.” Her voice wavered but kept going anyway.
“Things we wanted to do. Places she wanted to visit. Aunt Rita said she was gonna make out time for karaoke night on her next birthday.” A sad, thin smile tugged at her lips. “She wouldn’t stop talking about it.”
Aunt Rita—her mother’s sister, had filled the role of a mother after her own mother passed away the night Vanessa was born. She had always been the glue.
Andre just stood there, listening like he was afraid to break Rebecca’s fragile balance.
“Don’t push yourself too hard, my dear” he finally said. “None of this is your fault… Not like you could have prevented the accident.”
Rebecca froze. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, eyes tightening.
“Accident? You still run with that s**t?” Her voice cracked into slight anger. “It’s been over a year since Vanessa died and you still believe it was an accident?”
“The doctors said so, Rebecca.” Andre’s tone hardened slightly. “You’re not a doctor to decide what happened to Vanessa. You weren’t there when it happened. We all saw the car, and the case has already been closed. I think it’s time for you to let go too.”
The words hit Rebecca the way they always did—hard, suffocating and dismissive.
She looked away, her expression tensed. “I should have saved her.” Her voice broke, barely audible now. “I was the last person she spoke to before she died.”
Andre tried to comfort her the only way he knew how—quiet, firm and fatherly, but even his presence couldn’t stop the memory from forcing itself back into Rebecca’s mind.
***
FLASH BACK, ONE YEAR AGO. WEDNESDAY, 2:14 P.M.
The office was loud, cluttered and full of the usual chaos of a weekday afternoon. Phones ringing, papers shuffling. Someone arguing across the hall about God knows what.
Rebecca sat at her desk, buried in reports, when her phone buzzed.
INCOMING CALL.... VANESSA
She frowned, then answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“Be…Becky…”
Her voice was barely audible, it was shaky and strained. As if she was in danger and trying to steady her voice, afraid to alert whoever was close by.
Rebecca straightened.
“Hello? Vanessa? What is it this time?”
Something crashed faintly in the background, it sounded like glass, or something just as delicate. A muffled argument drifted through the line. Then a harsh, low voice cut in, angry and sharp but not clear enough to understand—the voice seemed to be barking at her from the shadows as if trying to stop her from speaking.
“What now? You're calling the cops on me?… Give me that!” the strange voice said.
A scuffle followed—brief but frantic. Then a sharp pull. The phone jerked, scraping against something as the struggle continued.
“Vanessa?” Rebecca stood up abruptly. “Nesa, what’s going on? Talk to me.”
But it wasn’t clear. The noises blurred, breathless shuffling can be slightly heard—as if the phone was scraping against someone’s clothes.
For a moment she hesitated, confusion mixing with irritation. Maybe she was with her friends again. Maybe it was nothing.
“Jesus... Nesa, I’m kinda busy right now” she said, rubbing her forehead. “I’ve got loads of work to do. Speak to you later.”
“Wait...” her sister's voice struggled over the phone. But the call had already cut.
She stared at the screen for a moment, uneasy…then pushed the feeling aside. It was the last time she ever heard her voice.
BACK TO THE CEMETERY.
Rebecca blinked hard, her jaw clenched, the memory sitting heavy in her chest. She knelt and brushed a leaf off her sister's headstone. “I’m sorry, sister… I’m so sorry.”
The wind picked up, moving the petals of the bouquet someone had left earlier. Maybe Aunt Rita. Maybe close friends. Or maybe someone who just remembered her birthday, 'cause Vanessa kept a lot of friends.
Andre took a slow step toward the path. “You ready to go now?” he asked quietly
Rebecca didn't answer, she simply nodded, but her eyes stayed locked on the grave like it was pulling something out of her.
“Alright” Andre murmured. He bent down and set the bouquet he’d bought from the flower shop earlier, tucking it carefully beside the other flowers already resting there.
He patted Rebecca’s shoulder once, then walked toward the car. His footsteps faded across the gravel, the sound swallowed by the wind as he reached the vehicle to wait inside.
Rebecca stayed where she was, quiet and sad.
The moment Andre’s back turned, the mask cracked. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm, the last trace of the tears she hadn’t meant to shed.
Then she leaned forward, close enough that her breath touched the cold marble of the headstone.
“Rest well, Nesa…” she whispered.
The words trembled, but her resolve didn’t. She straightened slowly, eyes burning with something sharper than grief. Something alive. Something demanding.
“I swear I’ll find who did this to you” she said, voice low, firm and unshaken. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care who’s involved.”
The wind pushed against her like an answer, lifting the edges of the flowers at her sister's grave.
“I won’t let your killers walk free while you stay there beneath the earth…” she murmured coldly. “I’ll get justice for you…even if it destroys me.”
She gave the grave one last look, long enough to hurt, long enough to promise—then turned and walked toward the car.
- Writer
