Letter's Of The Lost

As night fell and the campus quieted down, I sat in my dorm room, my mind still buzzing from the events of the past day. I had managed to avoid Olivia after class, making some excuse about needing to study. But now, alone in the dimly lit room, my thoughts turned to the letters hidden in my desk drawer.

The weight of them pulled at me, like a secret I could no longer ignore. The curiosity that had gnawed at me since I found them was growing stronger, and now, with the silence of the night wrapped around me, it felt like the right time to finally face whatever was inside.

I crossed the room and sat down at my desk, pulling open the drawer. my fingers trembled slightly as I took out the yellowed papers. The letters felt fragile, as though they might crumble if I wasn't careful. But the handwriting—fade and looping—was still legible, as though the words had been waiting for me all this time.

I leaned back in my chair, taking a deep breath before unfolding the first letter. I wasn't sure what I expected to find—maybe some mundane correspondence between friends, or perhaps even love letters. But as my eyes scanned the first few lines, I felt my pulse quicken.

"Isabella, I can't do this anymore. It's getting too dangerous, and I'm scared. You have to understand. Please, meet me tomorrow night at the usual place. We need to talk."

My brow furrowed as I read the words again, my heart beating faster. The letter was unsigned, but the urgency in the writing was unmistakable. It was clear that whoever had written this was desperate, pleading with Isabella to meet them.

But what could they have been afraid of?

I flipped to the next letter, my hands moving faster now, my curiosity overtaking my caution. The second letter was shorter but no less unsettling.

"Isabella, I don't know who else to turn to. If anyone finds out, we'll both be in trouble. Please, you have to trust me. It's not safe anymore. You need to stay away."

The words sent a chill down my spine. Stay away? From what? From whom? And why had Isabella kept these letters hidden?

My mind raced with possibilities. These weren't ordinary letters—they were pieces of a much larger, darker puzzle. Whoever had written them had been trying to warn Isabella, to protect her from something or someone. But it was too late now. Isabella was gone, and I had no way of knowing if I had ever met this person or heeded their warnings.

I reached for the third letter, my fingers moving more urgently now. This one was longer, and as I unfolded it, I could feel the tension in the writing even before I read the words.

"I can't believe what you've done. You've put us both in danger. Do you even understand the consequences of your actions? If they find out, it's over. Everything we've worked for will be ruined. You have to leave—disappear. I don't care where you go, but you can't stay here. It's not safe anymore. If you stay, they'll come for you. They'll come for all of us."

My breath caught in my throat. They'll come for you. Who were "they"? And what had Isabella done that was so dangerous? The letters hinted at something much larger, something that had terrified the writer enough to urge Isabella to leave town.

But Isabella hadn't left. She had disappeared.

My heart pounded as the pieces started to come together in my mind. These letters weren't just warnings—they were a road-map to understanding what had happened to Isabella. Whoever had written them had known something terrible was coming, and they had tried to save her.

But it hadn't worked.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the letters spread out on my desk. There were so many questions swirling in my mind, so many unknowns. But one thing was clear—Isabella had been in trouble long before she went missing. And whoever had written these letters might know more about her disappearance than anyone else.

I folded the letters carefully, my mind racing. I had to figure out who had written them, and I needed to know what had happened to Isabella. There was something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the surface, and I was determined to uncover the truth.

As I tucked the letters back into my drawer, my phone buzzed again, startling me. I hesitated before picking it up, half-expecting another angry message from my father. But it wasn't him this time.

The message was short and cryptic: "You shouldn't have taken those letters."

My heart stopped.

My pulse raced as I stared at the message, dread creeping up my spine. Whoever had sent it knew about the letters, and they were watching me.

My fingers tightened around my phone, my pulse thudding in my ears. I re-read the message, trying to steady my breathing, but the words remained just as unsettling: "You shouldn't have taken those letters."

My eyes darted around my room, the sudden feeling of being watched sending a chill through me. I was alone, locked safely in my dorm, yet the message felt too close, too invasive. I considered calling someone—Olivia, maybe—but quickly dismissed the thought. Olivia was persistent, but this was something else, something I couldn't explain to anyone right now.

Instead, I deleted the message.

I pushed myself back from my desk, needing to clear my head. Whoever had sent that text knew I had the letters. They knew I'd been inside Isabella's house. The thought gnawed at me, making me feel vulnerable in ways I hadn't felt before. And yet… who could have known? The house had been empty, the streets quiet. No one should have seen me.

I paced the small room, my mind racing with possibilities. Was it the same person who had broken into the house that night? Were they following me? Watching my every move? And more importantly—how did they know I had taken the letters?

The silence of the room grew oppressive, each tick of the clock like a countdown I couldn't ignore. I needed to get out, clear my head. I grabbed her jacket, my body on autopilot as I slipped out of the dorm and into the cool night air.

The campus was quiet, the moon casting a silvery glow over the gothic architecture of Hawthorne College. I kept my head down, hands shoved into my pockets, my mind still whirling with unanswered questions. The letters weighed heavily on my thoughts, their cryptic warnings more alarming now that someone else knew I had them.

As I walked, my feet carried me toward the same direction as before—Isabella's house. I hadn't planned to go back so soon, but something about it pulled me in. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the strange sensation that whoever had sent the text had ties to that house.

I turned down the familiar street, my eyes scanning the area. The house sat in eerie stillness, just as it had before, the broken window still unrepaired. My heart raced as I approached, half-expecting someone to appear from the shadows.

I steps slowed as I neared the front yard. This time, I didn't enter. Instead, I stood there, staring at the darkened windows. Who had lived here with Isabella? Were her parents gone too, or were they still somewhere in town, grieving her disappearance in silence?

My phone buzzed again in my pocket, and my heart jumped into my throat. I fumbled for it, dreading what I might see this time.

"Stay away."

That was all the message said, but it was enough to freeze me in place. my gaze darted around the street, half-expecting to see someone lurking in the shadows. But there was no one. The night was as quiet as before.

My instincts kicked in, and I took a step back. As much as I hated to admit it, the warning had gotten under my skin. There was something deeply wrong here, something bigger than I could piece together on my own. And whoever had sent that message didn't want me to dig any deeper.

But I had never been one to follow orders, especially when they were shrouded in threats.

Turning away from the house, I continued down the street, my thoughts clouded with suspicion and uncertainty. I didn't know who to trust anymore, but one thing was certain—someone was watching me closely. They knew what I had done, and they weren't going to let me off the hook that easily.

As I crossed into the main part of campus, my mind was still racing, I spotted a familiar figure coming toward me. Alessandro De Berlusconi. His tall frame and aloof demeanor were unmistakable, even in the dim streetlights. I instinctively tensed, my irritation flaring at the sight of him.

Alessandro had become the talk of the campus in a matter of weeks, his popularity skyrocketing thanks to his natural athleticism and charm—or rather, what people perceived as charm. To me, he was just another arrogant face in a sea of college students. And the fact that everyone seemed to adore him only made her dislike him more.

He caught my gaze, his green eyes locking onto mine with that same indifferent expression he always wore. For a moment, I thought he might walk right past me without a word, as he usually did. But tonight, something was different. Alessandro slowed as he approached, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her.

"Out late, Tyusige?" he said, his voice smooth but distant.

I bristled at the sound of my last name on his lips. "What's it to you?" I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended.

He shrugged, his hands casually shoved into his jacket pockets. "Nothing. Just don't usually see you wandering around after dark."

I crossed my arms, my irritation growing. "Maybe that's because you don't know anything about me."

Alessandro raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Fair enough. But it's dangerous out here at night, you know."

The comment made me pause. Was that a warning? Did he know something about the message I had received? my eyes narrowed suspiciously, but I quickly dismissed the thought. Alessandro wasn't the type to be involved in something so mysterious. He was just an arrogant football player, after all.

"I'll be fine," I said curtly, brushing past him without waiting for a response.

As I continued walking, I could feel Alessandro's eyes on my back, but I didn't turn around. I had more important things to worry about than whatever cryptic comment he had made. The letters, the messages, the break-in at Isabella's house—it was all starting to connect in a way that made her uneasy.

Back in my dorm room, I locked the door behind me and sat on the edge of my bed, my mind still reeling from the night's events. The letters were hidden away in her drawer, but now they felt like a burden I couldn't escape.

Whoever had sent that message knew I was onto something.