The Last Text I Sent

I stared at my phone, the blue light burning my eyes in the dark. It was 2:17 a.m., and the message sat there, unsent: "I know what you did. "My thumb hovered over the send button, trembling. Three little words could ruin everything-or save me.

It started two weeks ago. My best friend, Lila, went missing after a party at the old mill. The police called it a runaway case-16 years old, stressed about school, probably took off with some guy. But I knew better. Lila wasn’t the type to vanish without a word. She’d been texting me that night, frantic: “He’s here. I think he saw me. ”Then, nothing. Her phone went dead, and so did my hope.

The cops didn’t care, but I did. I started digging. Sneaking into her room, I found a crumpled note under her bed: “Meet me at the mill. Midnight. Don’t tell J.”J was her boyfriend, Jace-tall, brooding, the kind of guy who’d charm your mom while hiding a switchblade. Everyone loved him. Except me. I’d seen the way his eyes darkened when Lila laughed too loud with other guys.

I didn’t tell anyone about the note. Instead, I went to the mill myself. The air stank of rust and wet wood, and the shadows stretched like fingers across the floor. That’s when I saw it-a glint of silver under a tarp. Lila’s phone. Cracked screen, but it powered on. One unread message from me: “Where are you? ”And one outgoing draft she never sent: “Jace, I saw you with her.”

My stomach dropped. Who was “her”? And what had Jace done?

I should’ve gone to the police. But I didn’t. I went to Jace instead. He was at his house, sprawled on the couch, playing some shooter game like nothing was wrong. “Hey,” he said, not looking up. “You heard from Lila?”

“No,” I lied. “Have you?”

He paused the game, his jaw tightening. “Why you asking me that?”

“Just wondering.” I clutched her phone in my pocket, my pulse hammering. Did he know I had it? Did he know what I suspected?

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every creak in my house sounded like footsteps. Then my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: “Stop looking, or you’re next. ”I dropped it like it was on fire. When I picked it up again, the message was gone-like it’d never existed.

Now, here I am, 2:17 a.m., staring at my unsent text to Jace: “I know what you did. ”If I send it, he’ll know I’m onto him. If I don’t, I might never find Lila. My finger slips, and the whoosh of the message sending echoes in my skull.

Seconds later, my phone lights up. Jace: “Meet me at the mill. Now.”

I grab my jacket, my heart a war drum in my chest. I don’t know if Lila’s alive. I don’t know if I’ll make it back. But I do know one thing: tonight, someone’s secrets are coming undone.