Chapter 6 – Tangled Threads
The halls felt colder than usual.
Ava stood in front of her locker, staring at the photos taped to the inside of the metal door. Her fingers lingered on one in particular — a picture of her and Chloe laughing on the campus lawn. Chloe's face glowed with life, her hand mid-wave like she was saying hello… or goodbye.
Ava swallowed hard. She blinked once.
Chloe was smiling at her.
She blinked again.
The photo hadn't changed, but Ava's breath caught in her throat.
"You okay?" Jessy's voice pulled her back.
She jumped. "Yeah. Just tired."
"You've been saying that a lot lately," he said, concern etched in his face. "You sure it's just tired?"
Ava shut her locker a little too quickly. "It's nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
Because this morning, she'd seen Chloe again — not in a dream, not in a photo. In the mirror. Just for a split second. Chloe, standing behind her, eyes hollow. Then gone.
And no one believed her.
Not Lana, who had started avoiding her.
Not her aunt, who suggested therapy in hushed tones.
Not even herself.
Maybe I'm going crazy.
The thought had begun to root itself in her mind, dark and heavy.
As they walked toward the old literature building, Ava noticed something. The shadows under the trees. One of them looked like a girl — standing perfectly still.
Chloe.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She froze, her eyes locked on the shape.
"Jessy," she whispered. "Do you see that?"
Jessy turned. "See what?"
Ava looked again.
The shadow was gone.
---
Later that evening, Ava sat curled up in her bed, the light from her lamp casting golden hues across the room. She gripped her journal tightly, fingers trembling as she flipped through the pages.
On the last one, a name was scrawled again and again in shaky writing.
Chloe. Chloe. Chloe.
She didn't remember writing it.
Her hands began to shake.
Her aunt knocked on the door gently. "Ava? Can I come in?"
Ava wiped her eyes quickly. "Yeah."
Her aunt entered, carrying a tray of tea. She set it down on the nightstand and sat beside her. "Sweetheart… I know things have been hard."
"I'm fine."
"You're not. And that's okay." Her voice was gentle. "We all miss Chloe. But… it's been months. She's gone."
Ava looked away. "What if she's not?"
Her aunt hesitated. "You were there, Ava. You saw what happened. You saw the blood. The fire. The reports. There's no doubt."
"I still see her."
Her aunt didn't respond for a long moment. Then she simply pulled her into a hug and whispered, "It's grief. It plays tricks."
But Ava wasn't sure anymore. Grief didn't leave bruises on your arms. Grief didn't whisper your name at night.
She heard it again — her name, faint but clear. Ava.
She pulled back from the hug. "Did you hear that?"
Her aunt blinked. "Hear what?"
---
That night, Ava woke to scratching.
It was faint, like nails dragging across wood. It came from the closet.
She reached for her phone. 3:09 AM.
The scratching stopped.
Then… a whisper.
"Help me…"
Ava's breath hitched. "Chloe?"
She stood, trembling, and slowly opened the closet door.
Nothing.
But her old scarf fell from the top shelf — the one Chloe had borrowed the night she died.
Ava clutched it to her chest, eyes wide with terror. Her heart thundered.
Am I losing it?
---
At school the next day, whispers followed her. Not ghostly ones. Human ones.
"Have you seen Ava lately?"
"She's not okay."
"She said she saw Chloe again."
"She needs help."
She walked faster, kept her head down, but the weight of eyes never lifted.
Jessy found her by the fountain. "You skipped class."
"I couldn't be in there. They keep staring like I'm some freak."
He didn't say they were wrong.
Instead, he sat beside her. "I believe you."
She looked at him sharply. "You do?"
He nodded slowly. "Even if no one else does… I'm not going anywhere."
She wanted to believe that. She needed to.
But something in his eyes flickered — like a truth hidden behind a curtain.
She shivered.
The wind rustled the trees behind them.
Somewhere, in the silence, she heard it again.
Her name.
And a laugh that sounded too familiar to be a dream.
---
That evening, she went back to the ruins where Chloe had died. The place had been closed off, the entrance now hidden by a chain-link fence and signs warning of danger. But Ava squeezed through the gap in the back, heart pounding.
The fire had blackened most of the walls, but something drew her there, like a string tied to her soul.
She stood in the center of the charred room. Wind howled through the broken windows.
"I'm not crazy," she whispered into the silence. "I know you're here."
No answer.
Just ash.
Just a memory.
But as she turned to leave, she saw it — drawn crudely in the soot on the wall.
A message.
"HELP HER."
Ava stumbled back. Her chest tightened.
Who? Help who?
She didn't know. But deep down, she feared the answer. And part of her feared she might already be too late.
---