The Truth Has a Price
October 15
Dear Diary,
Yesterday, I found Elena.
Today, she’s gone.
Again.
I woke up at 6:17 this morning because someone was knocking on my bedroom door.
It was Noah.
He looked exhausted.
“Where’s Elena?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Noah?”
“She’s gone.”
My stomach dropped.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“She left.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I stared at him.
“You were with her last night.”
“I know.”
“So how did she disappear?”
He looked away.
“I fell asleep.”
“You fell asleep?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t believe him.
Not completely.
But before I could ask anything else, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
You found her too soon.
Then another message.
Now you need to know why she was taken.
I showed Noah.
His expression changed.
“Delete it.”
“No.”
“Amara.”
“No.”
I was tired of deleting things.
Tired of forgetting.
Tired of everyone deciding what I was allowed to know.
So I saved the message.
Then I asked the question that had been sitting in my mind all night.
“Where’s Jayden?”
Noah went silent.
“Why?”
“Because he was there yesterday.”
“I know.”
“And now Elena is gone.”
“I know.”
“Then where is he?”
Noah looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
We went to school anyway.
I don’t know why.
Maybe because pretending everything was normal felt easier than admitting our lives had become completely insane.
Maya immediately noticed something was wrong.
“You two look terrible.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’m serious.”
Noah walked away before she could ask anything.
Maya watched him leave.
“What happened?”
I hesitated.
Then I said:
“Elena disappeared.”
Maya’s face went blank.
“Who’s Elena?”
I froze.
She didn’t know.
Of course she didn’t.
Nobody did.
I couldn’t explain everything.
So I just said:
“Someone from my past.”
Maya looked confused.
“Okay...”
Then she handed me a folded piece of paper.
“This was in your locker.”
I opened it.
My heart stopped.
It was a photograph.
Elena.
Alive.
Standing beside someone.
I turned the photograph over.
Three words.
“Find the house.”
Underneath was an address.
I recognized the street immediately.
Noah’s house.
I looked at him across the hallway.
He was staring at me.
He had seen the photograph.
And judging by his expression...
He knew something I didn’t.
That afternoon, Noah finally told me the truth.
Or at least part of it.
“My father knew Elena’s family.”
“I know.”
“He knew about the building.”
“I know.”
“He knew about the photographs.”
I stared at him.
“And?”
Noah hesitated.
“My father wasn’t just involved.”
My heart started pounding.
“What was he?”
Noah looked directly at me.
“He was the person who built the room behind the red door.”
Silence.
I couldn’t speak.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know something.”
“I was eight.”
“But you’ve had eight years to find out.”
He looked down.
“I tried.”
“And?”
“I found records.”
“What records?”
“Names.”
“Whose names?”
He pulled a folded paper from his pocket.
There were six names.
Elena’s father.
My mother.
Noah’s father.
And three others.
One name made me stop breathing.
Jayden’s father.
I looked at Noah.
“They were all connected.”
He nodded.
“To what?”
“We don’t know.”
I stared at the list.
Then I noticed something written at the bottom.
A seventh name.
It was crossed out.
But I could still read it.
Elena Vale.
I looked up.
“Why is Elena’s name crossed out?”
Noah didn’t answer.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One final message:
Ask your mother what happened before you were born.
I stared at the screen.
Then at Noah.
Because suddenly I understood something.
The mystery wasn’t eight years old.
It was older than me.
Much older.
And whatever happened before I was born...
might be the reason Elena disappeared.
— Amara
