The Last Goodbye

I never believed in ghosts, or the afterlife, or any of that “other side” nonsense. That kind of stuff was reserved for horror films and badly written paranormal books—at least, that’s what I thought until the night Lily texted me.

Yes. Lily.

My best friend.

The one I buried two years ago.

Chapter 1: The Last Goodbye

Lily and I had been best friends since second grade. We were inseparable—sharing secrets, dreams, and heartbreaks. We had that kind of friendship that was practically sisterhood. When Lily was diagnosed with leukemia at twenty-five, I spent more time in her hospital room than I did in my own apartment.

She died holding my hand, whispering, “There’s something I didn’t tell you…”

But she never finished the sentence.

Her death shattered me. I stopped writing, stopped socializing, and buried myself in work. I still kept her number saved in my phone, even though it had been disconnected after her death.

Or so I thought.

Chapter 2: The Message

It happened on a Thursday night. I was alone in my apartment, halfway through a bottle of cheap wine and rewatching an old episode of The Office when my phone buzzed.

Lily: "I'm not resting. You need to find out the truth."

I froze.

My heart skipped.

I stared at the screen, thinking it was some kind of prank. A glitch. Maybe someone had recycled her old number. That had to be it. But I couldn’t stop the cold sweat that ran down my back.

I typed back, hands trembling.

Me: "Who is this?"

Seconds later:

Lily: "You were always the brave one. Go to the treehouse."

The treehouse.

The one behind her childhood home—where we carved our initials and hid from the world. It had been abandoned for years.

Something in me clicked. Fear turned to compulsion. I grabbed my coat, keys, and flashlight. I had to go.

Chapter 3: The Treehouse

The night was eerily quiet as I reached the treehouse. The old wood creaked under my feet. Everything looked the same—except for one thing.

A small metal box was sitting under the floorboard we used to hide candy in.

I opened it.

Inside was a torn notebook, a faded photograph, and a USB drive.

The photograph showed Lily—standing next to a man I’d never seen before. He looked older, maybe in his forties, with piercing green eyes and a serpent tattoo on his wrist.

I flipped through the notebook. Pages of entries, scrawled in Lily’s unmistakable handwriting:

"He watches me. I don’t know why. I think he followed me after I left the hospital last time."

"His name is D. Marcus. He says he knows my mother. But Mom says she’s never heard of him."

"I think he poisoned me. It wasn’t just cancer. I feel something deeper is wrong."

What the hell had Lily gotten herself into?

Chapter 4: D. Marcus

I searched the name “D. Marcus” online, along with keywords from Lily’s notes: poison, hospital, leukemia, serpent tattoo.

I didn’t expect anything. But one hit popped up.

An old Reddit thread—buried under conspiracy forums.

“Former pharmaceutical exec 'D. Marcus' suspected of unauthorized experimental drug trials on terminal patients.”

My stomach flipped.

Was Lily part of an illegal drug trial without her consent? Was her illness… accelerated?

I plugged in the USB. It contained video footage—hidden recordings of Lily confronting someone. The audio was muffled, but her voice was clear.

“You said this would help me. You said I’d get better.”

Male voice: “You signed the papers. No one will believe you now.”

Lily: “You tricked me.”

Male voice: “It’s already done. Say goodbye, Lily.”

The screen went black.

Chapter 5: Justice or Vengeance?

I sent the footage and notebook scans to a journalist friend of mine who worked in investigative crime. Within a week, her paper ran an exposé. Lily’s story went viral.

The public was horrified.

Authorities reopened the investigation.

D. Marcus was arrested in a small town in Idaho under a fake name. He’d been hiding in plain sight.

Chapter 6: The Final Message

After the story broke, I received one last text from Lily’s number.

Lily: "You found it. Now I can rest. Thank you."

The number was disconnected again.

I tried calling it. It no longer existed.

I sat alone in my room, staring at the phone in silence. A deep calm came over me. The ache I’d felt for years slowly started to loosen its grip.

I don’t know where Lily is now—but I know she’s at peace.