“Just do it,” the voice whispered. “Give her the note.” Luna clutched her head.

“But Anna will kill me,” she said back, talking to no one but the voice in her head.

“Or she’ll ki—”

“Stop!” Luna cried. she didn’t want to hear those words. Some words are better left unsaid... and unthought.

“Do it, or live in regret,” the voice said again. Luna knew it was right. She uncrumpled the note and read it again. Perhaps life-saving. Definitely incriminating.

“She’ll never trust me again,” she wailed into the empty locker room. This is where she escaped at school. Her safe place. Her empty place. But her mind was anything but empty, and thoughts coursed through her veins like blood, spilling everywhere in tears.


“Better that she is alive and mad than—”


“STOP! I can’t....” Luna’s voice trailed off. “Anna wouldn’t....”


“Wouldn’t she?” the voice prodded.


Luna stared at the note in her hands. She wondered if Mrs. Smith would even be able to read her handwriting, which was smudged with sweat and tears. She closed her eyes and thought about the last text message she received from her best friend Anna. Images flashed through her mind. Anna on the floor. Anna in a closet. Anna in the bathtub. Anna everywhere. Anna nowhere. Anna.... gone.


Blinking back tears and swallowing fear, Luna took a deep, shuddery breath. She knew what was right. Why did it have to be so hard? But it was right, wasn’t it? Yes. The voice was right. It wasn’t worth the risk.


Feeling suddenly decisive, she picked up her backpack, wiped her face and, clutching the note, she made her way to the counseling office. She entered quietly and shoved the note onto Mrs. Smith’s desk. Without a word, she turned around and hurried out of the office, not pausing to look at the guidance counselor’s face.


She did it.


It was over.


Luna didn’t sleep that night. Hours passed, marked by worried glances at her phone. She rocked back and forth on the floor of her room and prayed for Anna. The voice said she’d done the right thing, but she wouldn’t know for a few more hours. She checked her phone again, letting the dull glow of the screen illuminate her face. Nothing.


1:00 a.m.


2:00 a.m.


3:00 a.m.


Finally, the phone vibrated, waking her from her worried thoughts.


“1 new message from Anna:” the screen read. “I hate you.”


Luna had never been more relieved to hear those 3 words.