Episode 12: Lena’s Secret
781 Words
Aria didn’t sleep again.
She fled the kitchen the moment the lights came back on—frantic search for the breaker box, every bulb blazing until the house glowed like a beacon. The footsteps had stopped when the darkness lifted, but she wasn’t taking chances.
She spent the rest of the night on the living-room floor, back against the wall, lantern and flashlight within reach, journal open on her lap. She read and re-read the entries about blood and names and light, memorizing every detail.
By sunrise she was running on fumes, but the mark on her palm had spread further—thin black lines now curling around her wrist like delicate tattoos. It didn’t hurt. It felt… settled. Like it belonged.
She needed someone to talk to. Someone who wouldn’t look at her like she was crazy.
Lena.
She texted from the landline phone in the kitchen—her cell still off.
Can I come over? Need to talk. In person.
Lena replied almost immediately:
Door’s open. Bring coffee.
Lena’s apartment building was a fifteen-minute rideshare away—newer brick, better security, plants in every window. Aria arrived with two large coffees and a knot in her stomach.
Lena opened the door in nursing scrubs, hair wrapped, face bare of makeup but eyes sharp.
“You look worse than yesterday,” she said, pulling Aria inside. “Which is saying something.”
The apartment smelled of vanilla and eucalyptus—Lena’s diffuser running. Bright morning light poured through the windows. No shadows in the corners.
Aria handed over the coffee, sat on the couch.
Lena took the opposite chair, watching her carefully.
“Talk.”
Aria started with the journal. The drawings. The mark. Elias. The missing night. The diner fight. The broken rules. The blood writing on the kitchen table.
She left nothing out.
When she finished, silence stretched.
Lena’s face had gone very still.
Then she stood, walked to her bookshelf, pulled down a small wooden box from the top shelf.
Opened it.
Inside: a blue leather journal, edges worn.
She handed it to Aria.
“I was supposed to burn this,” Lena said quietly. “Your mom made me promise. The day before she went into the hospital for the last time.”
Aria opened it.
Her mother’s handwriting.
But the entries were different—more desperate, more detailed.
Dates from ten years ago.
Notes about Lena.
She found me crying in the college library. Told me everything. Made me swear to watch over Aria. To never tell her unless it started again.
Further pages: instructions for Lena.
If the reflections move, keep her away from mirrors.
If she hears her childhood voice, don’t let her answer.
If the mark appears, get her to Elias Crowe. He’s the only one who escaped it.
The last entry:
Lena—if you’re reading this, I’m gone. Protect my girl. Lie if you have to. The truth will wake it faster.
Aria looked up.
“You knew.”
Lena’s eyes filled. “She was terrified. Said knowing would make it stronger. That ignorance was the only shield she could give you.”
“You lied to me. For years.”
“I was trying to protect you.” Lena’s voice cracked. “Like she asked.”
Aria stood, journal clutched to her chest.
“All this time—you knew my mom was fighting something. You knew about my drawings. And you said nothing.”
“I thought it worked,” Lena whispered. “She did the ritual when you were seven. It stopped. You never mentioned the shadow friend again. She burned everything else. I thought… we were safe.”
Aria felt something break inside—anger, betrayal, grief.
“How many secrets did she make you keep?”
Lena wiped her eyes. “Too many.”
Silence.
Then Aria’s phone—still off—buzzed on the coffee table.
Both women stared at it.
It buzzed again.
Aria turned it on.
One new voicemail.
From her own number.
Timestamp: 3:17 a.m.
She played it on speaker.
Her mother’s voice—weak, from the hospital bed.
“If Aria asks, tell her I loved her. And burn the blue journal.”
The message ended.
Lena’s face crumpled.
Aria closed her eyes.
The mark on her palm burned cold.
She opened them again.
“I need to see Elias. Today.”
Lena nodded. “I’m coming with you.”
Aria looked at her oldest friend.
“No more secrets?”
“No more,” Lena said.
They left the apartment together.
In the hallway mirror outside Lena’s door, their reflections lingered a second too long after they turned away.
- Writer
