

Thirteen Reasons Why

 

Ep 2

Chapter Two — Whispers and Warnings

Sleep didn't visit me that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the notes.

The number 1. The words: He didn't leave. He was taken because of you.

And the second one — Find number two before they find you.

I must have reread them a hundred times, holding them under my lamp's light until the paper felt warm in my hands. I tried to think of anyone, anyone, who could've written them.

But Rosewood was new. Nobody here even knew me — or so I thought.

By morning, I'd convinced myself it was a prank. Maybe someone found out about Eli from an online post or one of those missing-person sites. Maybe they thought it'd be funny.

Except it wasn't funny. It was cruel.

---

The next day at school, I kept my head down. The hallway chatter felt heavier now, like every laugh was about me.

Chloe caught up beside me, her backpack hanging off one shoulder.

"Hey, Zara," she said. "You look like you didn't sleep."

"I didn't."

"Welcome to Rosewood. Insomnia's our unofficial school mascot."

I smiled faintly. She always had a joke ready, like a tiny spark against all the dullness.

We walked toward the lockers, and for a second, everything felt almost normal. Until I saw it.

My locker door.

There was something different about it — the faintest smudge, like someone's hand had been there.

I opened it carefully.

Empty.

No new notes.

But taped to the inside of the door this time, hidden behind the shelf, was a corner of paper peeking out.

My stomach sank.

I pulled it free.

A number again — 2.

This one said:

> "You can't erase what he saw."

I blinked, trying to process the words. What he saw? Eli hadn't told me anything before he disappeared. Just that he was meeting someone that night.

My throat felt tight.

Chloe was watching me. "Zara, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just… old stuff."

She tilted her head. "You sure? You look like you've seen a ghost."

If only she knew how close that felt.

---

Third period dragged on forever. The words on the whiteboard blurred together — symbolism, metaphors, irony. My pencil tapped the desk in uneven rhythm, my mind spinning around one thought:

Someone's playing with me.

After class, I went to the courtyard, where a few students hung out near the fountain. The autumn wind carried dry leaves across the pavement. That's when I noticed him.

The boy from yesterday.

He was sitting alone under the oak tree, hoodie up, sketching in a notebook. From where I stood, I could see his lips moving slightly, like he was talking to himself.

I hesitated, then started toward him.

When he noticed me, he stopped drawing. "You're the new girl," he said, voice low.

"Yeah. Zara."

"I know."

That answer threw me off. "You… know?"

He shut the notebook and stood. He was taller up close, maybe eighteen, with dark eyes that looked older than his face.

"I'm River," he said. "Don't trust the notes."

I froze. "What did you just say?"

"I said don't trust them. Whoever's sending them… they don't want you to find the truth. They want to scare you."

My heart was hammering. "How do you know about them?"

He glanced around the courtyard, then lowered his voice. "Because I got them too."

For a moment, everything inside me went still.

"You—what?"

He took a step closer. "Two months ago. Same handwriting. Different numbers."

I stared at him, trying to tell if he was lying, but there was something raw in his eyes. Something real.

Before I could ask anything else, he slipped a folded paper into my hand.

> "Meet me behind the gym after class. Don't tell anyone."

Then he walked away.

---

The rest of the day passed in a blur of confusion and nerves. I could barely focus on my teachers' voices. Every sound — the slam of lockers, the squeak of sneakers on the floor — made me flinch.

When the final bell rang, I hesitated outside the gym, clutching the note River had given me.

Maybe this was stupid. Maybe it was a setup.

But something inside me whispered: Go.

So I did.

The back of the gym was quiet, all shadows and peeling paint. The air smelled like rain and old grass. River was already there, leaning against the wall, hands in his hoodie pocket.

"I didn't think you'd come," he said.

"I almost didn't."

He nodded slowly, like he understood that more than he should. "The first time I got a note, I thought it was a prank too. But then things started happening. People stopped talking to me. Someone broke into my locker. I found my bike in the lake behind the school."

My skin went cold.

"What do they want?" I asked.

River's eyes darkened. "Maybe they want us to remember. Or maybe they just want to make sure we never forget."

He looked past me then, toward the corner of the building. His face changed — sharp, alert.

"Don't turn around," he whispered.

"Why—"

"Because someone's watching us."

---

My breath caught.

The air felt heavier suddenly, like the space behind me wasn't empty anymore.

A few seconds passed — long, stretching, silent. Then River's voice again, lower this time:

"Walk away slowly. Don't run. Just go."