Chapter 3: The Night I Tried To Forget
The smoke still filled my lungs when I closed my eyes. The sound of glass shattering. The way my mother screamed my name.
“I remember,” I whispered. “Everyone said I left the stove on. Everyone said I was careless. That I killed them.”
“Everyone was wrong,” Elias said.
Colleen stepped forward, voice sharp with panic. “You have no proof! The police ruled it an accident—”
“The police didn’t know what I know,” Elias cut in. He pulled a thick manila envelope from inside his jacket. “And neither did you. Not until you found out I was looking for her.”
He turned back to me. “I was the first responder that night. I pulled your father out. He was still breathing long enough to tell me one thing: It wasn’t an accident. It was her.”
He nodded at Colleen.
The whole room went dead quiet. The music had stopped minutes ago. No one drank. No one moved.
Colleen’s face went from red to white. “He’s lying! She paid him to say this!”
“Why would I pay him?” I asked, my voice finally steadying. “I changed my name. I moved three states away. I never wanted anyone to remember me.”
Elias looked at me, and his expression softened just a little. “Because you thought no one would ever believe you.”
Then he pulled out a photo from the envelope. A grainy security still, timestamped the exact night of the fire.
Colleen stared at it. And I saw her hands start to shake.
---
