THE TWO SIDES OF WILLOW CREEK - CHAPTER TWO
1407 Words
CHAPTER TWO – THE THINGS WE CARRY
Hailey Carter had always believed that people came in two types:
those who controlled the room… and those who tried.
She was the first type.
Always.
People didn’t intimidate her.
People didn’t tell her what to do.
People didn’t get close unless she allowed it.
That was the unspoken rule of being an heiress—an unbreakable, polished shield around her life. When you come from money, people pretend to love you while waiting for you to fall. When you grow up surrounded by expectations, you teach yourself to rise before anyone knows you slipped.
So Hailey built herself into someone sharp, untouchable, beautifully distant.
But Brooklyn Pierce didn’t treat her like a polished statue.
She didn’t treat her like royalty either.
She didn’t even blink when Hailey’s arrogance showed.
She stared back.
Unmoved.
Unimpressed.
Confident.
Like she saw the real person beneath everything Hailey pretended to be.
Hailey hated that. She hated it so much that she couldn't stop thinking about it.
The sun hung low as they walked down Willow Street, dipping behind the roofs until everything turned the color of cold iron. The quiet neighborhood that usually comforted Hailey now felt like it was watching them.
Brooklyn walked beside her with calm steps, hands tucked inside her jacket pockets. She didn’t look scared—she looked alert, like someone who had learned to live in survival mode.
Hailey could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She wasn’t used to that feeling. She wasn’t used to fear looking her in the eyes and whispering her name.
Which is what happened earlier.
A whisper.
A voice calling her.
Soft, cold, impossible.
Hailey didn’t like impossible things.
Impossible things made her feel small.
“So,” Hailey finally said, breaking the heavy silence, “is this what you do? Show up in a new town and drag strangers into your personal ghost stories?”
Brooklyn didn’t flinch. She turned her head slightly, her eyes steady.
“You didn’t have to come with me,” she said.
“But you did.”
Hailey scoffed, trying to hide the sting in her chest. “Trust me, it wasn’t for your sake.”
Brooklyn smirked, the corner of her lip lifting slightly. “Sure.”
Hailey rolled her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Brooklyn said with a soft sigh, “you’re not as heartless as you pretend.”
Hailey’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Nobody had ever spoken to her like that.
Not without fear.
Not without hesitation.
Not without wanting something from her.
Brooklyn didn’t want anything from her.
That made her dangerous.
They reached the corner where the mailbox stood. The air felt colder here, the kind of cold that didn’t make sense in early autumn.
Hailey wrapped her arms around herself. “Just answer one question, okay?”
Brooklyn nodded.
“Why me?” Hailey asked.
“Why did the… thing, whatever it is, say my name?”
Brooklyn looked down, her brows tightening. “I’ve been trying to figure that out.”
Hailey narrowed her eyes. “So you don’t know?”
Brooklyn hesitated.
Just a second.
Barely noticeable.
But Hailey saw it.
She always saw things people tried to hide.
It was her survival skill.
Brooklyn swallowed. “I don’t know everything.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Hailey pressed.
“Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
Brooklyn stopped walking.
Her voice softened, but her posture stayed firm.
“I know that weird things follow me. I know that they’ve been happening for years. I know I moved from house to house because my parents couldn’t stop fighting, and every place got worse. I know I learned to draw because it was the only way to stop feeling like I was drowning.”
She lifted her chin.
“And I know this thing has never called someone else’s name before.”
Hailey felt the world tilt slightly. “Never?”
Brooklyn shook her head.
Hailey exhaled slowly. She wasn’t used to being the one who didn’t have answers. She liked control, knowing, leading.
Right now she felt like she was trapped in someone else’s nightmare, and she hated that more than anything.
A rustling sound came from the bushes beside them. Brooklyn didn’t move, but Hailey felt her body tense.
The sound grew louder.
A metallic clank.
Then silence.
Hailey stepped back. “What was that?”
Brooklyn stared ahead, voice steady. “I don’t know.”
Another sound.
Louder.
A thud against metal.
Hailey jumped.
Brooklyn grabbed her arm.
“It’s okay,” Brooklyn whispered—though her voice wavered slightly.
“It’s probably nothing.”
Hailey wanted to say something arrogant, something cold, something that would hide the fear rising in her chest. But when she turned her head toward the mailbox, all arrogance drained out of her.
Because the mailbox door…
was slowly creaking open on its own.
Hailey’s breath caught.
Inside, a single white envelope lay perfectly still.
It wasn’t there earlier.
Brooklyn whispered, “Don’t touch it.”
Hailey stepped back. She hated how fast her feet obeyed. She hated feeling powerless. She hated that she could feel the hair on her arms stand.
Something was wrong.
Something was watching them.
“Let’s go,” Hailey said sharply, picking up her pace.
Brooklyn followed, breathing fast but keeping her shoulders squared.
Confident, even when afraid.
They didn’t talk until they reached the brighter part of the street. Streetlights hummed overhead, buzzing faintly, grounding them back to reality.
Hailey brushed her hair behind her ear, pretending she wasn’t shaken.
“I don’t get it. Why is this happening to you?”
Brooklyn took a moment before answering.
“My parents fought a lot,” she said quietly. “I’d hide in my room and draw for hours. Sometimes days. When things got really bad, I started hearing… sounds. Whispers. Scratches.”
Hailey frowned. “You think it started because of your family?”
Brooklyn shook her head. “I think it started because I was alone.”
Hailey felt her chest tighten.
She hated emotional conversations.
She hated vulnerable people.
But Brooklyn wasn’t being vulnerable—she was being honest.
Honesty was worse.
Honesty hit harder.
Brooklyn took a small breath. “Kids bullied me at school. Called me weird. Called me creepy. Said artists are crazy. One girl even told everyone I did rituals because of my drawings.”
Hailey blinked. “Did you?”
Brooklyn snorted. “No. I just drew anything I felt. I drew pain. I drew fear. I drew places I dreamed about but never saw.”
Her voice lowered.
“And sometimes I drew things… before they happened.”
Hailey froze. “What?”
Brooklyn didn’t elaborate.
Which made it worse.
Before Hailey could push further, Brooklyn noticed something.
“Your phone’s buzzing,” she said.
Hailey looked down.
A number she didn’t know.
Unknown Number: 1 New Message
She opened it casually—then felt her stomach drop.
DON’T TRUST HER.
SHE KNOWS WHY YOUR NAME WAS CALLED.
Hailey felt ice crawl up her spine.
“Brooklyn,” she whispered, “look.”
Brooklyn leaned closer.
Her face went pale—paler than Hailey had ever seen.
“That’s not possible,” Brooklyn whispered.
Hailey’s voice sharpened with suspicion. “Why not?”
Brooklyn’s hands trembled.
Just slightly, but enough.
“Because…” she murmured,
“I’ve gotten messages like that before.”
Hailey stared.
Her arrogance fell away.
Her fear sharpened into something dangerous.
“How long?” Hailey demanded.
“How long have you been getting messages?”
Brooklyn looked at her with eyes that held too many secrets.
“Since the night my parents had their last fight,” she said.
“The night we left California.”
Hailey took a step back.
She suddenly felt cold, small, and very, very mortal.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hailey snapped.
Brooklyn met her gaze steadily.
“Because I didn’t want to scare you.”
Hailey felt something twist inside her.
Anger.
Fear.
Betrayal.
Something else she refused to name.
“You should’ve told me everything,” Hailey said sharply.
“If we’re involved in this together—”
Brooklyn cut her off gently.
“No, Hailey. We’re involved because something chose you.”
Hailey’s breath hitched.
Brooklyn continued.
- Writer
