THE GIRL WHO KNEW MY SECRET

The first time I saw the girl who knew my secret, she was standing outside my apartment at 11:47 p.m.

I remember the exact time because I had been staring at the clock for almost an hour, waiting for sleep to come.

It didn’t.

Sleep hadn’t been easy for me lately.

Three years had passed, but some memories refused to stay buried.

I was sitting alone in my living room with the television muted when someone knocked.

Three slow knocks.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

I froze.

Nobody visited me that late.

My brother, Jason, had a key. My friends usually called before coming over. And my mother lived several hours away.

I looked at the clock again.

11:47.

Another knock.

This one was louder.

I stood up.

For a few seconds, I considered pretending I wasn’t home.

Then I heard a woman’s voice.

“Daniel?”

My heart stopped.

Not because I recognized the voice.

Because she knew my name.

I walked toward the door slowly.

“Who is it?”

Silence.

I checked the peephole.

A girl was standing in the hallway.

She looked about my age, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two. Long dark hair fell over one shoulder, and she wore a black jacket over a white shirt. She wasn’t carrying a bag. She wasn’t looking at her phone.

She was simply standing there.

Waiting.

I opened the door but kept the security chain attached.

The girl looked directly at me.

For some reason, she didn’t seem surprised to see me.

“Daniel Cole?”

I stared at her.

“Who are you?”

Instead of answering, she glanced at the chain between us.

Then she looked back at me.

“We need to talk.”

I almost laughed.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“I know.”

“Then whatever you want can wait until tomorrow.”

I started closing the door.

“Three years ago.”

My hand stopped.

The door remained half open.

The hallway suddenly seemed colder.

The girl watched my face carefully.

“What did you say?”

She stepped closer.

“Three years ago tonight.”

My fingers tightened around the edge of the door.

I couldn’t breathe properly.

She knew.

No.

That wasn’t possible.

Nobody knew.

I forced myself to sound calm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

My eyes moved over her face, searching for something familiar.

Nothing.

I had never seen her before.

At least, I didn’t think I had.

“Who sent you?”

Her expression changed.

Just slightly.

“I’m not here because someone sent me.”

“Then why are you here?”

She looked behind me, into my apartment.

Then she whispered:

“Because you lied.”

My stomach dropped.

I opened the door another few inches.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Listen, I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave.”

She didn’t move.

“Do you still have it?”

My blood ran cold.

“Have what?”

“The phone.”

For a moment, I couldn’t understand what she meant.

Then I did.

And everything inside me went still.

Three years ago, there had been a phone.

A black phone.

A phone that should have disappeared forever.

I hadn’t thought about it in months.

Or at least, that’s what I’d told myself.

The girl saw something in my expression.

Her eyes narrowed.

“You still have it.”

I stepped backward.

“Get away from my door.”

“Daniel—”

“Leave.”

She stared at me.

Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

Not a happy smile.

A sad one.

“You haven’t changed.”

I felt anger replacing fear.

“You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.”

“Who are you?”

She finally answered.

“Maya.”

“Maya what?”

“Maya Williams.”

The name meant nothing to me.

But the way she said it made me feel as though I was supposed to recognize it.

“Okay, Maya Williams. Good night.”

I shut the door.

I locked it.

Then I locked the deadbolt.

I stood there for several seconds with my back against the door.

My heart was beating too fast.

Three years ago.

The phone.

The lie.

None of it made sense.

I walked back into the living room and grabbed my phone from the table.

Jason.

I needed to call Jason.

My thumb hovered over his name.

Then I stopped.

No.

If Maya was connected to what happened three years ago, calling Jason could make things worse.

I put my phone down.

A knock came from the door.

I jumped.

“Daniel.”

Maya.

“Go away.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“I know you still have the phone.”

I stared at the door.

“How?”

Silence.

Then she said something that made my entire body go numb.

“Because I saw you hide it.”

My breath caught.

I hadn’t hidden the phone in front of her.

I hadn’t even known her three years ago.

At least, I didn’t remember knowing her.

I moved away from the door.

“Maya, you have five seconds to leave before I call the police.”

“Then call them.”

Her voice was calm.

Too calm.

“Tell them about the night at the lake.”

My hand fell away from the phone.

The lake.

That word hadn’t been spoken in my home for three years.

Not by me.

Not by Jason.

Not by anyone.

I walked back to the door.

This time, I opened it completely.

Maya was still standing there.

“Who are you?”

She looked at me for a long moment.

Then she said:

“I told you. My name is Maya.”

“No. That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

“What happened at the lake?”

Her expression hardened.

“You tell me.”

My jaw tightened.

“You came here. You brought this up. You tell me what you know.”

She looked away.

For the first time, I noticed that her confidence had cracks in it.

She was scared.

Not of me.

Of something else.

“What happened that night wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly.

I stared at her.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You don’t get to say that.”

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t there.”

Maya looked directly into my eyes.

“Yes, I was.”

Everything stopped.

The hallway.

The sounds from the neighboring apartments.

My thoughts.

Everything.

“You…”

I swallowed.

“You were at the lake?”

She nodded.

I searched her face again.

There had been four people at the lake that night.

Jason.

Me.

Our friend Marcus.

And a girl.

A girl whose face I had spent years trying to forget.

I couldn’t remember her name.

That was the strange part.

I remembered the rain.

I remembered Jason shouting.

I remembered Marcus bleeding.

I remembered the sound of glass breaking.

I remembered the headlights disappearing into the darkness.

But the girl’s face had become a blur.

My therapist once told me that traumatic memories could become fragmented.

I believed her.

Until now.

I looked at Maya.

“What’s your last name?”

She almost smiled.

“You already asked me that.”

“Maya Williams.”

“Yes.”

I whispered the name again.

Then something flashed through my mind.

A voice.

A girl’s voice.

Laughing.

A white bracelet.

A silver necklace.

A pair of dark eyes looking at me from the passenger seat of a car.

I blinked.

The memory disappeared.

“Maya…”

Her expression changed.

“You remember me.”

“No.”

“You almost did.”

I stepped outside.

“Tell me what happened.”

She shook her head.

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

“Somewhere nobody can hear us.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

She reached into her jacket.

I immediately stepped back.

Maya stopped.

Slowly, she pulled out a small white envelope.

She held it toward me.

“What is that?”

“Something you need to see.”

I didn’t take it.

She placed it on the floor between us.

“Open it.”

“What is it?”

“Proof.”

“Proof of what?”

Her eyes met mine.

“That you weren’t the only person who lied that night.”

She turned around.

“Maya.”

She stopped.

I looked at the envelope.

Then at her.

“Why now?”

She didn’t answer.

“Maya!”

She slowly turned her head.

“Because someone else has started looking for the truth.”

My chest tightened.

“Who?”

She looked down the hallway.

For the first time, genuine fear appeared in her eyes.

“I don’t know.”

Then she walked away.

I watched her disappear around the corner.

I didn’t move.

I looked down at the envelope.

A part of me told me to leave it there.

Another part of me knew I couldn’t.

I picked it up.

There was no name on it.

No address.

Nothing.

I took it inside and locked the door again.

My hands were shaking as I opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

I pulled it out.

And my heart stopped.

It was a picture of me.

Three years ago.

At the lake.

I recognized the jacket I was wearing.

I recognized Jason standing beside me.

I recognized the car behind us.

And then I saw her.

Maya.

She was standing several feet behind us.

Alive.

Looking directly at the camera.

I turned the photograph over.

There was handwriting on the back.

Four words.

YOU REMEMBER HER WRONG.

I stared at the message.

Then I noticed something else.

A second piece of paper had fallen from the envelope.

I picked it up.

It was a printed screenshot of a text message.

The sender’s number had been blacked out.

The message said:

He doesn’t know what really happened.

My breathing became shallow.

Underneath it was another message.

Don’t let Daniel find out.

And then a third.

If he remembers Maya, we’re finished.

I dropped the paper.

“No.”

I backed away from the table.

This wasn’t possible.

Maya had been there.

She knew about the lake.

She knew about the phone.

She knew about the lie.

But if she had been there that night, why didn’t I remember her?

I grabbed my phone.

This time, I called Jason.

He answered on the fourth ring.

“Daniel?”

“Where are you?”

A pause.

“Home. Why?”

“Did you know someone named Maya Williams?”

Silence.

Not normal silence.

The kind of silence that answers a question before the person says anything.

“Jason?”

He finally spoke.

“Where did you hear that name?”

My stomach turned.

“Just answer me.”

“Daniel, listen to me.”

“No. You listen to me.”

My voice rose.

“Who is Maya Williams?”

Jason didn’t respond.

“Jason!”

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Lock your door.”

I froze.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Daniel, did she come to you?”

I looked at the photograph on the table.

“Yes.”

Jason inhaled sharply.

“What did she give you?”

“How do you know she gave me something?”

Another silence.

I felt something inside me crack.

“Jason.”

“Get rid of it.”

My eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“Whatever she gave you. Get rid of it.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“Because you don’t want the answer.”

“Try me.”

Jason’s voice dropped.

“Daniel, three years ago, I promised someone I’d never tell you the truth.”

My entire body went cold.

“What truth?”

“I can’t.”

“You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Daniel—”

“Ten.”

“Stop.”

“Nine.”

“Listen to me.”

“Eight.”

“It’s not safe.”

“Seven.”

“Daniel!”

“Six.”

“Destroy the photograph.”

I stared at the picture.

“Why?”

“Because if she gave you that photograph, then she knows.”

“Knows what?”

Jason’s voice trembled.

“The girl in that picture isn’t Maya.”

I couldn’t speak.

I looked at the photograph again.

The girl standing behind us.

The dark eyes.

The white bracelet.

The face.

It was Maya.

I knew it was.

“Jason…”

“Get out of your apartment.”

“What?”

“Right now.”

“Why?”

“Because if Maya found you, then they already know where you live.”

A sound came from the hallway.

I stopped breathing.

Someone was outside my apartment.

I slowly turned toward the door.

Jason was still talking.

“Daniel? Are you there?”

I didn’t answer.

The doorknob moved.

Once.

Twice.

Someone was trying to open my door.

My heart slammed against my chest.

“Jason…”

“What?”

“Someone’s outside.”

His voice became urgent.

“Daniel, listen to me. Do not open that door.”

The doorknob stopped.

I stared at it.

Then came three slow knocks.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Exactly like before.

Jason whispered through the phone:

“Daniel…”

“What?”

“Don’t move.”

I couldn’t.

Then a voice came from the other side of the door.

A man’s voice.

Low.

Calm.

Familiar.

“Daniel, we need to talk.”

I looked at the photograph.

Then at the door.

Then at the white envelope.

And suddenly, I understood something.

Maya hadn’t come to warn me.

She had come to make sure I remembered.

The man outside knocked again.

“Daniel.”

I stepped backward.

His voice became quieter.

“You really should have forgotten.”

My phone slipped from my hand.

And then the lights went out.

End of Chapter 1