Backstabber's diary(part-3)
Backstabber's Diary
Episode 3: The Boy Who Lied in Silence
"Silence isn't weakness.
It's the sound of someone sharpening their blade."
— Backstabber's Diary, Page 3
---
He had always been the quiet one.
Not in a poetic, mysterious sort of way. More like a shadow that learned how to survive by standing still. A shadow with amber eyes, half-tucked shirts, and a presence that made people double-check if he was ever really there to begin with.
His name was Caleb Cross.
In a school like Velmont, silence was often dismissed as irrelevance. But silence, as it turned out, had its own language—and Caleb spoke it fluently. His words were rare, but every time they surfaced, they hit like snowfall in summer: unexpected, quiet, and cold.
No one ever questioned where he went during breaks. No one ever asked why he never joined clubs, events, or late-night parties. He wasn't part of the golden circle, nor a rebel trying to burn it. He was somewhere in between—watching.
Observing.
Storing.
And lying.
---
It started with a name in her diary.
> "Caleb Cross.
Still as stone.
Eyes like secrets.
But Junie trusted him."
That was enough to make him the next crack to chase.
She didn't approach him—not yet. She watched instead. He was always in the same places: fourth row, near the window in Literature; last table by the wall in the library; leaning against the edge of the sports field during drills he never joined. And every time he passed the main notice board—he looked at it like it was lying.
Three days after the photo of Junie appeared under her door, she left a single envelope in his locker. It was blank outside. Inside: a photo of Junie, smiling, alive, with a handwritten note.
> "She trusted you. Did you lie to her too?"
No name. No threat. Just a question.
By lunchtime, the envelope was gone.
And for the first time, Caleb looked nervous.
---
Later that evening, while the sky turned a bruised shade of lavender, she found him where she expected—sitting alone on the rooftop garden, a place students weren't technically allowed after 5 p.m.
She didn't announce herself. Just stood near the gate until he spoke.
"You're the girl with the diary," he said, not looking up.
She didn't flinch. "And you're the boy who lied."
He turned, slow, deliberate. "Everyone lies."
"But not everyone hides the truth about a girl in a hospital bed."
His eyes flicked toward the edge of the rooftop. "You think I put her there?"
"I think you didn't stop them."
Silence. Then: "I didn't think she'd end up that way."
"That's not a defense. That's an excuse."
He sighed, brushing a leaf off his jeans. "She begged me not to say anything. Said she'd handle it herself. I believed her."
"She trusted you."
"I know."
"You let her fall."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "And I've been falling ever since."
---
They didn't speak again until two days later.
Not with words, at least.
But she began finding folded notes in her locker, her desk, even tucked into pages of her own diary. They were never signed. But they were always his.
> "I never told them what she knew."
> "They used me. I stayed silent."
> "Silence is the currency here. I was rich."
And finally—
> "I want to help. Let me make it right."
She didn't reply. Not yet. Forgiveness wasn't her goal. Truth was. And she needed to know what he had been hiding.
---
She invited him to the underground archive one night. The one below the old science wing, hidden behind a rusted door and stacks of forgotten books. It was where secrets in Velmont went to rot quietly.
He arrived without a word.
She handed him a folder.
Inside: copies of scholarship documents, logs of tampered records, screenshots of student council emails—all of it pointing back to one person.
Kaelyn.
But Kaelyn wasn't alone.
There were names in the CC fields. Approvals signed off by staff. Dates that matched perfectly with the time Junie's medical records were faked and her academic profile erased.
And among the digital trails—was one forwarded email. From Caleb's student ID.
To the very teacher who buried the truth.
He froze.
"I didn't know what was attached," he whispered. "They told me it was just an application request. Said Junie had withdrawn."
"She didn't."
"I know that now."
She looked at him hard. "Why are you really helping?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he slid a photograph from his pocket. It was old—creased. It showed Junie and Caleb, barely fifteen, in a library aisle, both laughing, her head against his shoulder.
"She was my only friend," he said. "And I didn't protect her."
---
They started working together after that. Not as allies. As temporary accomplices. She still didn't trust him—not entirely. But he had access, and she had fury. Together, they started building what she called "the second act."
It wasn't enough to destroy Kaelyn. Not yet. That was too easy. This was about cracking masks—one by one—until the entire system fell on its knees.
And Caleb?
He was her key to the next name.
---
> "Name #2: Madison Grey.
Perfect scores. Perfect face. Perfect lies."
Madison was the smile behind the camera. She ran Velmont's social media accounts, curated the image of the school as flawless, modern, elite. But behind those filters, behind those hashtags—was a girl who had doctored more than just pictures.
With Caleb's help, they accessed the draft queue of Madison's posts. Dozens of them were planted narratives—fake stories to protect Kaelyn's reign, edited club rosters, and falsified achievements.
"She erased Junie from the debate team records," Caleb whispered.
"And from the honor board."
"Velmont never lets truth get in the way of its reputation."
"But I do," she said, eyes gleaming.
They didn't leak it. Not yet. First, they wanted to watch Madison squirm.
They started with a small fracture.
A scheduled post from the student council Instagram went live—early.
It was a tribute to the scholarship winner… but with Junie's name.
The post was deleted in seven minutes.
But seven minutes was all they needed.
Screenshots spread like wildfire. Students whispered. Staff panicked. Madison was called into the office twice that day. By the time evening fell, her smile had dimmed, and she posted nothing.
---
That night, another message slid under her door.
> "You're poking bears that don't sleep.
Stop, or the next post will be your obituary."
Attached: a grainy photo of her—taken from across the street, through her window.
But she didn't scare easily.
She printed the photo and taped it to her mirror.
Underneath, she wrote:
> "Try harder."
---
At school, Caleb stayed close. Not protective—but alert. She noticed his body tense when unfamiliar faces passed too close. He didn't talk much, but she had learned to read the way his fingers tapped the table, how he tilted his head when thinking.
"Who else knew?" she asked him one afternoon.
He didn't pretend not to understand.
"Alec. Kaelyn's boyfriend. Ex now, I think. He saw the records too."
"Why didn't he say anything?"
"He benefits from silence. His family donates half the tech wing."
"Then let's make him speak."
"Or break."
---
They set the trap carefully.
An anonymous package sent to Alec's locker. Inside: printed emails showing Junie's expulsion edits—signed by Kaelyn, with Alec CC'd.
And a note:
> "Lie again, and we'll make it public.
This time, the internet won't forget."
By the next morning, Alec was pale.
He didn't show up to basketball practice. He skipped third period. Rumors spread. And finally, she caught him outside the chemistry lab, pacing.
He saw her.
"You're the one doing this, right?"
She said nothing.
"You think you're some avenger? You're going to ruin everyone."
"They ruined someone first."
"Junie didn't die—"
"No," she interrupted. "But they killed her name. And I won't let them bury mine too."
He looked like he wanted to argue. But he didn't. He turned and walked away.
That was enough.
Another mask cracked.
---
In the next diary entry, she crossed out Madison's name.
> "Her smile falters now. She deletes more than she posts."
And added Alec's.
> "He lied in silence. But silence doesn't hold forever. Not when your secrets start leaking."
Under Caleb's name, she paused.
> "Still unknown. Still watching.
But shadows grow heavier before they disappear."
---
One evening, she and Caleb sat in the library's back corner, surrounded by forgotten yearbooks and unopened books. Outside, the rain beat against the windows.
"You ever feel like we're playing God?" he asked.
"No. I feel like we're taking Him back from the ones who stole Him."
Caleb was quiet. Then he looked at her—really looked.
"You're not doing this for revenge anymore, are you?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"For her. For Junie. And for me."
"You ever plan to stop?"
"When every mask falls. Or I do."
He nodded slowly.
"I hope it's the first one."
She didn't answer.
Because deep down… she wasn't sure anymore.
---
Later that night, her phone buzzed.
A private number.
She opened the message.
It was a video.
Grainy. Night vision. Someone standing outside her house. Just standing. Staring up at her window. Breathing loud. Then turning, walking away.
No words.
No voice.
Just presence.
She saved the video. Forwarded it to a secure folder. Then picked up her black diary.
On the last page, she wrote:
> "You sent silence?
Let me show you what silence becomes when it turns to rage."
She closed the book.
Lit a candle.
And whispered to the flame:
> "Let the next mask fall."
---
Author's Note ❤️
Every lie has a heartbeat.
It might not be loud. It might not scream like guilt. But it pulses—quietly, constantly—waiting to be caught. Caleb's story is not just about silence. It's about complicity. About how even those who claim to be victims of the system often help it survive.
But now, Velmont is starting to crack.
This story is a slow fire. Every name in that diary is a page waiting to burn.
> Junie was the spark.
The girl with the black diary is the flame.
And the school?
It's the forest.
We've seen masks crack.
But the next one?
The next one shatters.
Get ready for the real games.
Episode 4: The Golden Lie
Coming soon.
Where even the truth wears a disguise.
And everyone starts choosing sides.
— Aarya Patil
Your author. Your whisper in the shadows. Your backstabber in ink.
#BackstabbersDiary #Episode3 #VelmontIsBurning