Chapter 28
Chapter 28 (Eleanor’s POV)
The bus ride home felt endless.
I sat by the window, my backpack clutched tightly on my lap, feeling like everyone could see the stolen folder hidden inside.
Nobody looked twice at me.
Just another girl coming home from the city.
But inside, I was crumbling.
Inside, I was carrying the weight of too many secrets.
Secrets that could get me — and maybe others — hurt if I wasn’t careful.
---
When I finally stepped off the bus, the familiar sight of my street brought a small wave of comfort.
The old trees.
The peeling paint on the mailboxes.
The soft barking of Mr. Patterson’s dog across the road.
Home.
It still smelled like fresh cut grass and someone grilling burgers nearby.
Normal.
Safe.
At least on the outside.
---
I walked up the steps slowly, my legs heavy.
Before I could even touch the doorknob, Chris yanked the door open from inside.
"Finally," he said, shoving his shoes on. "I’ve been waiting to go to practice!"
I blinked at him.
Right. Soccer.
Chris glanced at my face and frowned.
"You good?"
"Yeah," I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just tired."
He shrugged, not digging deeper.
Boys.
He grabbed his bag and raced down the porch steps just as Mom came to the door, holding her car keys.
"Hey, sweetie," she said, planting a kiss on my head. "You’re just in time. Need a ride anywhere?"
I shook my head.
"No, I’m good. Got homework."
She smiled tiredly.
"Alright. There’s leftovers in the fridge. Be good, okay?"
I nodded again.
And then they were gone.
Chris shouting something about forgetting his cleats, Mom laughing, car doors slamming.
Normal life swirling around me like nothing had changed.
Even though inside, everything had.
---
I closed the door gently and locked it.
Only then did I let out a long, shaky breath.
I headed upstairs and dumped my backpack on my bed.
The stolen folder peeked out from under my notebooks.
I shoved it deeper under the mattress for now.
One step at a time, Nell.
One step.
---
I changed into comfortable clothes and made myself a quick sandwich.
Sitting at the kitchen table, eating in silence, I stared at the photos on the fridge.
Chris’s messy soccer pictures.
My old ballet recital photo.
A family vacation shot from two years ago.
A life filled with simple memories.
No government agents.
No erased love stories.
No secret experiments.
Sometimes I wished I could just stay here.
Stay small.
Stay safe.
But that wasn’t my story anymore.
---
Later that night, after dinner and pretending to watch a movie with Chris, I finally escaped back to my room.
I locked the door quietly and turned the volume up on my phone just enough so it would sound like I was still awake and distracted.
Then I pulled the folder out.
---
Sitting cross-legged on my bed, flashlight pointed downward, I started reading.
It was slow work.
The language was heavy, full of medical terms and strange codes.
But I pushed through it.
Line by line.
Page by page.
Every few minutes, I had to stop, breathing hard, my heart twisting in my chest.
Because hidden between the cold reports were glimpses of us.
Me and Alex.
---
One file described something called Crosslink Frequency.
"Subjects 011 and 017 show spontaneous reactivation of emotional memories even after full suppression trials."
Another page talked about Anchor Points.
"Emotional triggers identified: shared music, environmental scents (rain), visual locations (college campus setting)."
I swallowed hard.
Rain.
Music.
Campus streets.
That explained why seeing Alex in real life had hit me so hard — even when he didn’t recognize me.
It wasn’t coincidence.
It was memory fighting to survive.
---
There was one small scrap of paper, handwritten and barely legible.
It simply said:
"Phase III target date: May 27."
I checked the date on my phone.
May 20.
One week.
One week until... something.
Something big.
Something final.
I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking slightly.
I didn’t know exactly what Phase III was.
But I knew it couldn’t be good.
And I knew I had to stop it — somehow.
---
The sound of a text message snapped me out of my spiral.
Lena.
"Miss you loser. You better not be ghosting me or I’m showing up at your house with cupcakes and judgment!"
I smiled weakly.
God, I missed her.
But I couldn’t drag her into this.
I couldn’t.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
---
"I promise, soon," I texted back.
"Raincheck on the cupcakes though."
She sent a heart emoji and a photo of a giant chocolate cupcake.
I stared at it for a long time, fighting tears.
---
Sleep didn’t come easy that night.
I tossed and turned under my blankets, mind racing.
Every creak of the house made me jolt awake.
Every shadow made my heart pound harder.
But eventually, exhaustion pulled me under.
---
The next morning, life pretended to be normal again.
I woke up to Chris banging on the bathroom door.
Mom yelling about breakfast.
The smell of burnt toast wafting down the hall.
Normal.
---
School was a blur.
I sat through classes barely listening.
Taking notes automatically.
Answering when called on.
Lena kept throwing me weird looks from across the room.
During lunch, she cornered me at our usual table.
"Okay," she said, crossing her arms. "Spill."
I blinked.
"Spill what?"
"You’re acting weird, Nell. You’re tired. Jumping at shadows. Zoning out all the time."
She leaned closer.
"I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"
I stared at her, heart aching.
She meant it.
She really did.
But how could I tell her?
How could I explain something even I barely understood?
---
"I’m just... stressed," I said softly.
She didn’t look convinced.
But she didn’t push.
Instead, she handed me a bag of chips from her tray.
"Then eat. You look like you’re about to pass out."
I laughed weakly and took the chips.
And for a few minutes, we just sat there.
Eating.
Talking about random TV shows.
Planning a pretend vacation to Paris.
Pretending everything was normal.
Even though deep down, I knew nothing was normal anymore.
Not for me.
Maybe not ever again.
---
After school, I hurried home.
Locked myself in my room.
Pulled the folder out again.
Kept reading.
Digging.
Searching.
Because time was running out.
And if I didn’t figure this out before May 27th...
I might lose everything.
Not just Alex.
Not just our memories.
But maybe even my own life.
---
I stared out the window as the sun dipped low in the sky, painting everything gold.
And I made a promise to myself.
No matter what it took.
No matter how scared I got.
No matter how lonely it felt.
I was going to find him.
I was going to stop them.
I was going to save us.
Because some loves are too strong to be broken.
Even by the cruelest hands.
Even by the deepest lies.
And I wasn’t giving up.
Not now.
Not ever.