Noa POV
Elias doesn't come after me.
That's how I know I finally scared him.
I walk down the hallway with my heart trying to escape my ribs, every step measured, controlled. I don't run. Running would confirm things. Running would tell him I remembered more than I should.
So I walk.
Like the version of me he trained.
My room feels different now. Smaller. Like a cage I only just noticed the bars of.
I lock the door behind me and slide down against it, pressing my palms to the floor to ground myself.
Three resets.
Three times I woke up in this body thinking I was fragile, paranoid, broken—while he stood over me like a savior.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
The memory from the bathroom wasn't complete. It never is at first. It's like my mind releases things in pieces, the way you'd feed a wild animal. Too much at once and it would turn on itself.
But I know one thing for sure now.
Elias didn't just clean up my mess.
He finished it.
My phone vibrates.
I flinch so hard my head hits the door.
Then I see the name.
UNKNOWN CONTACT
A text appears.
You remembered again, didn't you?
My breath catches.
I don't respond.
Another message follows almost immediately.
Don't answer out loud. He checks the house.
My fingers shake as I type.
Who is this?
Three dots appear. Disappear. Then—
Someone who refused to forget you.
My throat tightens.
How did you get this number?
You gave it to me.
The room tilts.
I press my hand to my chest. When?
Before the second reset. You said if you ever asked "who's dead" again, it was already too late.
My vision blurs.
I swallow hard. What's your name?
There's a pause this time. Longer. Careful.
Leah.
The name hits something deep in my chest.
Leah.
I don't know who she is, but my body does. There's a warmth there. Trust. Familiarity that doesn't feel poisoned.
Where are you? I type.
Not inside the house. That's the important part.
My fingers hover. He knows about you.
Of course he does, she replies. He just thinks you forgot.
A sound outside my door makes me freeze.
Footsteps.
I lock my phone and shove it under the pillow just as the handle turns.
Elias knocks once. Polite. Controlled.
"Noa," he says through the door. "We need to talk."
I don't answer.
The silence stretches.
"I'm not angry," he adds. "You're overwhelmed. That happens when memories surface."
I almost laugh.
He sounds like a doctor reading from a script. Not a man who shoved someone down the stairs and then wiped a woman's mind clean three times.
"I made tea," he continues. "Your hands were shaking earlier."
I stare at the door.
At the man who knows my fear responses better than I do.
"Open the door," he says softly. "Please."
Please.
That word used to undo me.
Not anymore.
"I'm tired," I say, forcing my voice to stay even. "I need space."
A pause.
Then: "You don't sleep well alone."
My nails dig into my palms.
"I'll manage."
Another pause. Longer. Dangerous.
"Alright," Elias says finally. "I'll be in my office."
Footsteps retreat.
I wait.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Only when I'm sure he's gone do I unlock my phone again.
He left, I text.
The reply comes instantly.
Good. We don't have much time.
Time for what?
For you to decide whether you want the truth… or peace.
My chest aches.
Those aren't the same thing.
Exactly.
I sit up, back against the headboard. Tell me everything.
Three dots. Then—
You killed the man, Noa. But not the way Elias tells it.
I suck in a sharp breath.
Then how?
You didn't push him in anger, Leah types. You pushed him because he was going to kill you.
My heart stutters.
The room feels too quiet.
That's not what Elias said.
Elias says whatever keeps you small.
My jaw tightens.
How do you know this?
Because I was there.
Everything inside me goes still.
You were… there?
Across the garage. I saw him grab you. I heard you scream.
My hands start to shake again, but this time it's not panic.
It's rage.
Why didn't you come forward?
The reply takes longer.
Because Elias got to me first.
My stomach drops.
He didn't threaten me, she continues. He didn't need to. He showed me what he did to you.
My throat closes.
He told me you'd never survive prison. That if I loved you, I'd stay silent.
Tears sting my eyes.
Do I know you?
Yes.
How?
I was your roommate.
Roommate.
Images flash—shared meals, laughter, someone sitting on the floor while I paced and ranted about footsteps and shadows.
"You're not crazy," a voice says in my head. Not Elias's.
Leah's.
Why now? I type. Why contact me now?
Because he made a mistake.
My pulse quickens. What mistake?
He assumed I'd disappear after the second reset.
I let out a shaky breath.
I didn't, she adds. I stayed. I watched. I waited.
The door at the end of the hall creaks.
I freeze.
Footsteps again. Faster this time.
He's coming back, I text quickly.
Then listen carefully, Leah replies. There's a flash drive taped under your bedside drawer. You put it there yourself.
My heart pounds.
What's on it?
Your voice.
The handle rattles.
"Noa," Elias says, sharper now. "Open the door."
I slide off the bed, heart racing, and reach under the drawer.
My fingers brush plastic.
He's outside my door, I text.
Good, Leah replies. That means he doesn't know you found it.
The knocking turns into a firm knock.
"Now," Elias says.
I grip the flash drive like it's oxygen.
What do I do? I type.
There's a beat.
Then—
You listen to yourself.
The knocking stops.
The lock turns.
The door opens.
Elias stands there, eyes scanning the room, calm already reassembled like armor.
"Why are you shaking?" he asks gently.
I straighten.
"I remembered something," I say.
His eyes flick to my hands.
"What?" he asks.
I meet his gaze.
"You forgot to erase a witness."
For the first time—
Elias doesn't hide his fear.
And I know, deep in my bones—
The version of me he erased?
She left a trail on purpose.