The message came when Julian wasn't expecting it.
He was in the bedroom.
Sitting on the edge of the bed.
Doing nothing.
Or at least—
that's what it looked like.
In reality, his mind had been running in circles for hours, replaying every word Silas had said, every movement, every silence.
Searching.
Connecting.
Trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense.
That was when he heard it.
A faint sound.
Not from the hallway.
Not from the door.
From the bedside table.
Julian's head snapped toward it.
The phone.
His chest tightened instantly.
Silas never left the phone behind.
Never.
Slowly—
too slowly—
Julian reached for it.
His fingers hovered for a second before grabbing it.
The screen was already on.
A message.
Unknown sender.
Just one letter.
A.
Julian's pulse spiked.
For a moment, he just stared at it.
Then—
he opened it.
The message was short.
Simple.
Check the bathroom vent.
Julian blinked.
That was it.
No explanation.
No warning.
No context.
Just an instruction.
His first instinct was to drop the phone.
To pretend he hadn't seen it.
This was wrong.
Everything about this was wrong.
But then—
another thought pushed through.
This is the first real thing you've been given.
Not Silas's words.
Not his controlled explanations.
Something else.
Something outside.
Julian swallowed.
If this was a trap—
he was already in one.
Slowly, he stood.
The hallway felt quieter than usual.
Too quiet.
Julian stepped out of the bedroom, his movements calm, measured.
Normal.
He didn't rush.
Didn't look around too much.
The cameras.
He knew they were there.
Which meant—
he had to act like this meant nothing.
The bathroom door closed softly behind him.
Julian stood still for a moment.
Listening.
Nothing.
He turned slowly.
His eyes lifting.
And there it was.
The vent.
Small.
Positioned high on the wall.
Easy to miss.
Julian stared at it, his heartbeat picking up.
What am I doing?
This was insane.
But his body moved anyway.
He stepped onto the edge of the bathtub, steadying himself against the wall.
Reaching.
His fingers brushed against the metal cover.
It was secured.
Of course it was.
Julian exhaled slowly, his mind racing.
Think.
He scanned the bathroom quickly.
Toothbrush.
Soap.
Towels.
Then—
his eyes landed on it.
A small metal edge from the mirror frame.
Not perfect.
But enough.
Minutes felt like hours.
The faint scraping sound filled the bathroom as Julian worked carefully, slowly loosening the vent cover.
Every second—
he expected the door to open.
Every second—
he expected Silas to walk in.
His hands trembled slightly.
"Come on…" he whispered under his breath.
The screw shifted.
Then—
finally—
gave.
Julian froze.
Listening.
Nothing.
He removed the vent cover carefully, setting it aside.
Darkness stared back at him.
Cold.
Empty.
Julian hesitated.
Then reached inside.
His fingers brushed against something.
Paper.
His breath caught.
Slowly, he pulled it out.
Not one.
Several.
Folded.
Worn.
Hidden.
Julian dropped back down from the tub, his hands tightening around them.
For a second—
he didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Then—
he unfolded the first one.
His eyes scanned the page.
And everything in him went still.
It was a report.
An accident report.
Date.
Location.
Details.
Julian's vision blurred slightly as he read.
Because it didn't match.
Not the date Silas told him.
Not the details.
Not anything.
His grip tightened.
"No…" he whispered.
There were more.
He flipped to the next one.
Another report.
Different date.
Same name.
His name.
Julian's stomach dropped.
Then another.
And another.
Each one slightly different.
Each one wrong.
Or—
each one real.
A sound.
Footsteps.
Julian froze.
Outside.
Getting closer.
His heart slammed against his chest.
Silas.
Panic surged—
sharp and immediate.
Think.
Think.
Julian moved quickly, stuffing the papers back together.
Too many.
Too obvious.
He couldn't put them back.
Not in time.
The doorknob shifted.
Julian's eyes darted around the room.
Nowhere to hide.
Nowhere—
Then—
his gaze dropped.
Inside his shirt.
He shoved the papers under his clothes, pressing them tightly against his body just as—
The door opened.
Silas stepped in.
His eyes immediately landing on Julian.
Standing there.
Too still.
Too quiet.
A pause.
Heavy.
"What are you doing?" Silas asked.
Julian forced himself to breathe.
"Toilet," he said.
Simple.
Normal.
Silas didn't move.
Didn't speak.
His gaze flicked briefly around the room.
The vent.
Julian's pulse spiked.
But—
the cover was back in place.
Slightly crooked.
But closed.
Silas's eyes returned to him.
Searching.
Julian held his gaze.
Empty.
Calm.
Lying.
And after a long moment—
Silas nodded slowly.
"Don't take too long."
Then he left.
The door closed.
Julian didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't blink.
Until the footsteps faded.
Then—
his legs gave out slightly as he leaned against the wall.
His hands gripping his shirt tightly.
The papers.
Still there.
Real.
Dangerous.
Julian closed his eyes.
Because now—
he understood something far worse than before.
It wasn't just that Silas was lying.
It was that—
this had happened more than once.
Later that night—
Julian unfolded the papers again.
Hands shaking.
Reading every line.
Every date.
Every contradiction.
And at the bottom of the last page—
There was something else.
Not part of the report.
Not official.
A message.
Written in pen.
You weren't supposed to remember this time.
Julian's breath hitched.
Because he knew—
That message wasn't for the past.
It was for him.