Seth Carver
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The mundane sounds of high school filled the air—lockers slamming shut, laughter echoing down the hall, and the faint hum of conversation blending into a familiar, chaotic rhythm. But for me, Seth Carver, it felt like a world apart. I trudged through the throngs of students, a ghost among the living, my heart heavy with the lingering sorrow of recent events. The deaths of my parents still felt like a fresh wound, and the cacophony of teenage life grated against my nerves.
As I approached my locker, I pulled out the key and felt a sense of dread creep in. I had been getting strange letters lately, slips of paper that seemed to taunt me with their mysterious messages. I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. What could a piece of paper possibly mean? The lock clicked open, and I swung the door wide, reaching in to grab my textbooks. But my hand froze when I spotted another folded letter nestled within the chaos of crumpled papers and old assignments.
Curiosity mixed with trepidation as I pulled it out, my heart racing. The handwriting was unmistakable, bold and jagged, the letters slanting wildly across the page. It read:
Seira Fallon: save her if you can. She was just a girl, but she mattered.
The name hit me like a punch to the gut. Seira Fallon. I knew her, of course. Not just because of her tragic end, which still haunted the halls of our school like a ghost, but because she had once been an essential part of my life—a girl who had loved me from afar for seven long years.
In the back of my mind, the memories flooded in uninvited. Seira, with her bright eyes and infectious laughter, had been a constant presence throughout our childhood. I had been oblivious to her feelings, dismissing her affections as nothing more than a childish crush. At fifthteen, she had poured her heart into a love letter, hoping to finally reach me. I remembered the moment I received it; I had crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash, annoyed and irritated at her persistence. I had thought of her as just another girl—a pesky NPC in the video game of my life.
She was never meant to be a main character. She was someone who floated around the edges of my existence, always trying to get my attention, always looking for a way into my heart. But I had pushed her away, time and time again, oblivious to the fact that her love was genuine. I had treated her feelings as if they were an annoyance.
Sighing heavily, I slammed my locker shut and made my way to class. As I entered the room, my eyes immediately fell upon her empty desk. I remembered how she would often sit there, her short bob with bangs framing her delicate features, occasionally resting her head on her arms during lectures. I wondered how she would look if she were still alive—But she was gone, murdered the day after graduation, found lifeless on the school rooftop, her death marking the beginning of a dark chapter in our town's history.
As the teacher droned on, I couldn't shake the weight of the letter from my mind. It was the same thing over and over—messages urging me to save Seira, to remember her, to acknowledge her existence. Each note was more unsettling than the last, and despite my attempts to ignore them, I found myself looking over my shoulder, half-expecting to see her ghost lingering in the corner of my vision.
After class, I stepped outside, needing fresh air to clear my mind. The sun hung high in the sky, casting warm rays over the bustling courtyard. Yet, I felt cold inside, the chill of Seira's death wrapping around me like a fog. As I walked home, I caught a glimpse of a crumpled paper at my feet—a letter, of course. I sighed in frustration, but as I reached down to pick it up, I noticed it was different from the others.
It was stuck to my front door when I arrived home, almost mocking me. I wanted to scream, to tear it apart, but deep down, I felt an odd sense of urgency. I threw it away, furious at the thought that it could hold any meaning for me.
That night, as I lay in bed, exhaustion pulled me into a restless sleep. My dreams were filled with shadows, memories of my parents, and the echo of Seira's laughter. Just as I thought I could escape the turmoil in my mind, a knock sounded at my door. It was soft, almost hesitant, and I froze.
I assumed it was my mother or my stepfather, checking on me, but as I opened my eyes, the letter was lying on my nightstand, its familiar handwriting glaring at me in the dim light. The same haunting message stared back:
"Save her if you can."
I sat up, heart pounding in my chest. It dawned on me—maybe to save my family from being killed in the future, I needed to save Seira. Her name had become a ghost, haunting my every thought since I had received that first letter.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Seira had been the first victim, and the killer had marked her with an X at her forehead. The realization hit me hard; my parents had also been found with the same mark after their deaths. This wasn't just a coincidence; there had to be a connection between her murder and my family's tragic end.
Why had the killer chosen them? Did he have a specific target, or was this all just random chaos? I couldn't help but wonder why someone would go after my parents when the killer typically targeted those under 18. Was I somehow involved in this nightmare?
As I thought back to those late nights spent studying with my sisters, I remembered Seira's innocent face, the girl who had always believed in fairy tales and love stories. If I wanted to save my family, I had to save her first. But how? She was just a girl who had liked me—a girl I had brushed aside for years, too caught up in my own teenage dramas to notice her unwavering affection.
I could hear her laughter in my mind, but it felt distant, a memory of a life that could have been. She had always seemed so clingy, so boring, always following me around like a lost puppy. What could I possibly do to save someone who had become little more than a ghost in my mind?
The weight of the decision pressed down on me. I could feel it clawing at my insides, this mix of responsibility and guilt. Maybe I could at least give her a chance, an opportunity to explain. Maybe there was something I had missed about her, something that could change everything.
With a heavy heart, I closed my eyes again, the letter and Seira's name swirling in my mind. I resolved to find out what had happened to her, to piece together the mystery of her death. I needed to confront the past, to face the shadows I had buried for too long.
Sleep came fitfully, haunted by dreams of Seira and the weight of the decisions that lay ahead. If I could save her, perhaps I could save my family from the darkness that threatened to consume us all.