Chapter 3: Don't Trust Him
999 Words
The message came later that night.
Amara was sitting on her bed, her room dimly lit, her phone resting in her hand. She hadn’t turned on the main light. Somehow, the darkness felt more honest.
Safer.
Her screen lit up.
Daniel: “Are you okay? You’ve been acting strange.”
She stared at the message for a long time.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, but she didn’t type.
“Don’t trust him.”
The voice echoed faintly in her head.
Not loud this time.
Not urgent.
Just… steady.
Like it was sure of itself.
Amara exhaled slowly and locked her phone without replying.
“I don’t even know what’s real anymore,” she whispered.
Silence filled the room.
But not for long.
The next day, everything changed.
It started small.
Too small for anyone else to notice.
But Amara noticed.
She noticed everything now.
Every glance.
Every pause.
Every word that didn’t quite match the tone it was spoken in.
And Daniel—
Daniel was different.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tessa asked, leaning against Amara’s desk.
Amara nodded. “I said I’m fine.”
“You’ve said that like ten times,” Tessa replied. “That’s how I know you’re not.”
Amara didn’t respond.
Her eyes were fixed across the room.
On Daniel.
He was talking to someone—laughing, even—but something about it felt forced.
Fake.
Her chest tightened.
“Amara,” Tessa called again, softer this time. “Talk to me.”
Amara blinked, pulling her gaze away. “I just… didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”
Tessa studied her carefully.
“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
Amara almost smiled.
Almost.
Later that afternoon, Amara stood by her locker, pretending to organize her books.
In reality, she was waiting.
Watching.
Daniel approached her, just like she knew he would.
“Hey,” he said casually.
Amara turned to face him.
Her expression was calm.
Too calm.
“Hey.”
He hesitated for a second before speaking. “You didn’t reply my message.”
“I saw it.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t reply.”
Daniel frowned slightly. “Why?”
Amara shrugged. “Did I have to?”
The tension between them grew instantly.
Something had shifted.
And they both felt it.
“I feel like you’re avoiding me,” Daniel said.
Amara tilted her head slightly. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I just don’t like being lied to.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Silence.
Daniel’s expression changed.
“Lied to?” he repeated. “What are you talking about?”
Amara watched him closely.
Every movement.
Every reaction.
Her heart pounded.
“He’s going to lie.”
The voice whispered again.
Right on time.
“You said you had ‘family stuff,’” Amara said slowly. “Is that true?”
Daniel didn’t answer immediately.
Just a pause—
A small one.
But enough.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “It is.”
There it was.
The lie.
Amara felt it.
Not because she had proof.
But because something inside her told her it wasn’t true.
The voice.
It hadn’t been wrong yet.
“Okay,” she said quietly, turning back to her locker.
Daniel stared at her. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to believe me.”
Amara paused.
Then slowly closed her locker.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” she replied.
Daniel’s face hardened slightly. “Wow.”
“Wow?” Amara repeated.
“Yeah. I didn’t expect this from you.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “You didn’t expect me to question you?”
“I didn’t expect you to act like this.”
“And I didn’t expect you to lie,” she shot back.
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Irreversible.
Daniel ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated now.
“You’re overreacting,” he said.
Amara’s eyes narrowed.
“He’s going to lie.”
“He’s going to lie.”
The voice echoed again.
Louder this time.
Stronger.
Almost… insistent.
Her head started to ache.
“Stop,” she whispered.
Daniel frowned. “Stop what?”
Amara blinked, realizing she had spoken out loud.
“Nothing,” she said quickly.
But it wasn’t nothing.
The voice was getting stronger.
“You know what?” Daniel said. “Forget it.”
He stepped back.
“Talk to me when you decide to stop acting weird.”
And just like that—
He walked away.
Amara stood there, frozen.
Her chest felt tight.
Her thoughts tangled.
Her emotions—confused.
Part of her wanted to go after him.
To fix things.
To believe him.
But the other part—
The louder part—
Reminded her of the truth.
The voice hadn’t been wrong.
Not once.
That evening, Amara sat by her window, staring out at the darkening sky.
Her mind replayed everything.
The voice.
The warnings.
Daniel.
The lie.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the glass.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered.
Silence.
For a moment, she thought it wouldn’t answer.
Then—
“I’m helping you.”
Her breath caught.
The voice.
Soft.
Calm.
Certain.
Amara’s heart pounded.
“Helping me?” she repeated.
“Yes.”
Her throat went dry.
“Then why does this feel like I’m losing everything?”
A pause.
A long one.
And then—
“Because the truth always costs something.”
Amara’s eyes widened.
A chill ran down her spine.
For the first time—
The voice didn’t just sound mysterious.
It sounded…
Powerful.
That night, as she lay in bed, staring into the darkness once again, one thought refused to leave her mind:
If the voice was telling the truth…
Then what else did it know?
And more importantly—
What would it ask for in return?
- Writer
