Chapter 8: The Files Hidden at Home
I read the message again.
Then again.
My eyes kept moving over the same four words.
*Ask your own family.*
For a few seconds, I convinced myself it was another trick.
Another attempt to make me panic.
Harper had spent years manipulating people’s fears.
Maybe this was just another game.
But then I remembered something.
The audio file.
The missing memories.
The deleted evidence.
Someone had erased pieces of my life.
And whoever did it knew exactly where to look.
At home.
I sat on my bed staring at the wall.
My room had always felt like the safest place in the world.
The posters.
The books.
The old photos.
Everything familiar.
But suddenly, every object felt like it was hiding something from me.
My own life had become a mystery.
And I was the last person to find out.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Maya.
*Are you okay?*
I stared at it.
I wanted to answer yes.
I wanted to pretend everything was normal.
But I was tired of pretending.
I typed:
*Someone said my family deleted the files after my accident.*
The reply came almost immediately.
*Naomi, don’t go looking alone.*
I frowned.
*Why?*
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
*Because Harper wasn’t the only person who was scared of what you knew.*
I read that sentence several times.
Then I stood up.
I knew what I had to do.
I had to find out.
My parents were in the kitchen when I walked downstairs.
Mom was making dinner.
Dad was sitting at the table reading emails.
A normal evening.
A normal family.
That almost made it harder.
Because if the message was wrong, I would feel terrible for doubting them.
But if it was true…
I didn’t want to finish that thought.
“Can I ask you something?””
Both of them looked up.
Mom smiled.
“Of course.””
I stayed standing.
“Do you remember October 14th last year?””
The change was instant.
Small.
Almost invisible.
But I saw it.
My dad stopped moving.
My mom’s hand froze over the counter.
Only for a second.
But it happened.
And that was enough.
“You remember it?”” I asked.
Mom looked at Dad.
That was worse than any answer.
“Naomi…”
“What happened that day?””
Dad slowly put down his phone.
“Why are you asking?””
“Because I found out I lost my memory after an accident.””
Mom looked shocked.
“Who told you that?””
“So it’s true.””
Silence.
I felt something crack inside me.
Not because I was angry.
Because I was right.
“You knew.””
Mom stepped closer.
“Naomi, listen to me.””
“No.””
My voice shook.
“You knew I forgot something.””
“We were trying to protect you.””
The words hit me.
Protect.
Everyone kept using that word.
Harper.
Maya.
Now my parents.
Everyone had a reason.
Everyone had an explanation.
But nobody had asked me.
“What did you hide?””
Dad stood.
“We didn’t hide anything.””
“Then why do you look scared?””
Nobody answered.
I laughed quietly.
A painful laugh.
“That’s what everyone does.””
Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
“What do you mean?””
“Everyone looks scared when I ask questions.””
I stepped back.
“I’m the only person who doesn’t know what happened to me.””
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“Naomi, after your accident, you were struggling.””
“With what?””
“Your memory.””
“I know that.””
“No.””
His voice softened.
“You were having nightmares.””
I froze.
“What?””
“You would wake up terrified.””
I looked away.
I didn’t remember.
Again.
“You kept asking about Harper.””
My heart started beating faster.
“What did I say?””
Dad and Mom exchanged another look.
I hated that.
The looks.
The silent conversations.
The way everyone knew a version of me that I didn’t.
Mom finally spoke.
“You said she was going to hurt someone.””
The kitchen went silent.
“What?””
“You kept repeating the same thing.””
She swallowed.
“You said, ‘She can’t get away with it.’”
My hands went cold.
The words felt familiar.
Like a memory trapped behind a locked door.
“What happened to the files?””
Neither of them answered.
I already knew.
“Who deleted them?””
Mom sat down.
“Your father did.””
The truth hurt more because she said it so quietly.
I looked at Dad.
“You did?””
He looked devastated.
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because you asked me to.””
I stopped.
“What?””
Dad walked toward the cabinet.
He opened a drawer.
Then another.
Finally, he pulled out an old laptop.
“I didn’t want to do it.””
He placed it on the table.
“But you begged me.””
My throat tightened.
“I begged you?””
“You were terrified.””
He opened the laptop.
The screen flickered.
A password box appeared.
He typed.
Then turned the laptop toward me.
A folder opened.
*Naomi - October*
Inside were dozens of files.
Videos.
Documents.
Audio recordings.
My hands shook.
“You kept them?””
Dad nodded.
“I couldn’t destroy everything.””
“Then why tell me you did?””
“Because I thought I was protecting you.””
I looked at the files.
“How?””
He sat down.
“Because after the accident, you weren’t just forgetting.””
“What do you mean?””
“You remembered pieces.””
The room felt smaller.
“And?””
“And every time you remembered, you became more afraid.””
Mom wiped her eyes.
“You stopped sleeping.””
I looked at the folder.
At my old life.
My missing memories.
“So you deleted the evidence.””
Dad nodded.
“Because you told us to.””
I stared at him.
“Why would I ask you to delete proof?””
Nobody answered.
Then Dad opened one more file.
The title was:
*Final Statement*
My heart raced.
“What is that?””
Dad looked at me.
“The last thing you recorded before the accident.””
I clicked it.
The video loaded.
My face appeared.
My old face.
The one from a year ago.
I looked tired.
Scared.
But determined.
I stared at myself.
Then my past self spoke.
“If you’re watching this…”
I stopped breathing.
My own voice continued.
“It means I forgot.””
A tear slipped down my cheek before I even realized it.
“If I forgot, it means something happened.””
The video shook slightly.
I was recording in my room.
Late at night.
“You need to know something.””
My past self looked directly into the camera.
“Harper is not the only person involved.””
My heart dropped.
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad looked away.
The video continued.
“I thought I could fix this myself.””
A pause.
“I was wrong.””
My past self looked terrified.
“There is someone helping Harper.””
I leaned closer.
The screen.
The truth.
The missing piece.
Then my old voice said:
“And the person helping her is someone everyone trusts.””
The video glitched.
Then the final sentence appeared.
The sentence I had been waiting for.
The sentence that explained everything.
“I found out who it is.””
The screen froze.
Then the video ended.
I sat there in silence.
“That’s it?””
Dad nodded.
“That’s all we had.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“There’s more.””
“There was.””
My eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?””
Dad looked at the laptop.
“The next file disappeared.””
“Disappeared?””
“Yes.””
“Who deleted it?””
Dad looked at me.
“I don’t know.””
The answer should have comforted me.
It didn’t.
Because someone had been inside our home.
Someone had accessed the files.
Someone had known what I was trying to remember.
My phone buzzed.
I looked down.
A new message.
From the unknown account.
This time, it included a photo.
A recent photo.
Taken inside my house.
My blood turned cold.
Because the picture showed the laptop sitting on the kitchen table.
The exact laptop in front of me.
And underneath the image was a message:
*You were never supposed to find that.*
Another message appeared.
*Now you’ll finally understand why your family chose silence.*
I looked up at my parents.
They looked terrified.
Not confused.
Not surprised.
Terrified.
Because whoever sent that picture wasn’t watching from far away.
They were close.
Very close.
Then the final message arrived.
*Check the security camera.*
May you like
And beneath it:
*You’ll see who came into your house last night.*
