Chapter 3

My life became a waking nightmare.

I was trapped in a house with two parents who were being eaten alive by a secret I couldn't understand.

What sentence could be so powerful?

What words could drive a war veteran to suicide and turn my loving parents into hollow shells?

I replayed every memory I had of Jayden.

He was happy. He loved his music. He was excited about starting high school.

None of it made any sense.

Detective Morris kept coming by.

He would sit in our silent living room, trying to get my parents to talk.

"I know this is hard," he' d say, his voice gentle. "But something is wrong here. People don' t just... react this way. I need to know what was in that note."

My dad would just stare at him with dead eyes.

My mom would just shake her head, whispering, "Please, just leave us alone."

The investigation stalled. With no note and a silent family, there was nothing the police could do.

The official story became a "tragic cluster of suicides," likely caused by shared grief.

The town whispered. They looked at our house with a mixture of pity and fear.

The Hughes family was cursed.

A few days after my mom swallowed the note, the third tragedy struck.

My dad got into his truck.

He didn't say goodbye. He didn't even look at us.

He just started the engine and drove away.

Later that afternoon, Detective Morris was at our door again.

This time, he wasn' t there to ask questions.

His face was grim.

"There' s been an accident," he said.

My dad had driven his construction truck at over 100 miles per hour straight into a concrete overpass pylon.

He died instantly.

There were no skid marks.

It was ruled a suicide.

At the scene, my mom stood beside the wreckage, strangely calm.

The media was there, cameras flashing, reporters shouting questions.

She ignored them all.

She walked right up to Detective Morris.

I was standing close enough to hear her words.

"Now I' m the only one who knows," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I' m the only one left who knows the truth."