The box lay in the middle of Samara’s bed, part of the comforter sinking down underneath its weight. Scattered around it were books and ripped-out pages of notebook paper with random, almost nonsensical scrawling all over them. 

The message on the box was in a language Sam couldn’t understand—it looked like something out of a fantasy novel, with fancy loopy symbols that vaguely resembled heiroglyphs. She was making an attempt at translating it, but it was so much harder than it looked. There was just one symbol all by itself there—was it an initial of some sort, or something else?

Sam gritted her teeth, staring at the box. She was getting a headache.

“Any luck so far?” Basil’s voice piped up through the speakers of Sam’s laptop. The latter had said that she didn’t need any help, but Basil insisted that the two of them video call while Sam tried decoding, for moral support.

“No,” Sam grumbled, sighing as they cracked their knuckles. “And my hands are killing me. I think this is what carpal tunnel is.”

Basil let out a low whistle, snapping her fingers absentmindedly. “It…can’t be that hard, can it? I know I sound like a broken record, but since some symbols repeat, we can figure the rest out —”

“But that gets us nowhere!” Sam groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “I’ve been trying to piece this together for days, and all I have to show for it is a bunch of frickin’ chicken scratch!” She roughly grabbed a few papers, a loud crinkling echoing through the room as she waved them in the air. “How do spy movies make this look so easy?”

“Because government spies and hired assassins are like, superhumans or something. Haven’t you seen that movie where this guy goes on a murderous rampage because a burglar killed his dog?”

“Yeah, but—”

Knock, knock. “Sam? You in there?”

“Just a second!” Sam called out, turning back to Basil. “Hang on, I think Aunt Cansu’s coming in.”

“Oh, okay. Should I hang up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Just lemme…” Sam rearranged all the papers that were scattered on the bed, doing their bed to cover up the box. She doubted that she would get in trouble for having the box, but she didn’t want Cansu to ask her where she got it. “Come in!”

The door opened, Cansu walking into the youngest Thornbury’s room. “Sam, do you—oh!” The violet-haired woman quickly noticed Basil’s face on Samara’s computer screen. “Why hello, Basil! I’m sorry, Sam, I didn’t know you two were talking.”

“It’s fine, Mrs. Thornbury,” Basil replied. “We don’t mind, really.”

“Did you need something, Aunt Cansu?” Samara asked, moving to uncross her legs. She never liked sitting the same way for too long. It made her feel way too restless, so every now and again she’d reposition herself, sometimes looking like a human pretzel as she did so.

“I was just wondering if you’ve seen your siblings,” Cansu said, running her fingers through her hair. “Their curfew is in a little bit, and they’re usually home by now…”

“Uh, I think they came by for lunch, but I haven’t seen them since then.” Samara knew that there was some sort of party that night at a senior’s house, but they weren’t gonna rat the twins out like that. Besides, it could make for good blackmail next time she needed a ride somewhere. “They might’ve left a message on the answering machine? I can’t confirm it though, I’ve been out with Basil for most of the day.”

“It’s true,” Basil confirmed. “The two of us were at the library today.”

“Oh, the library?” Cansu hummed, leaning against the doorframe. “You two catching up on some reading?”

“Um, yeah, sure. L-Let’s go with that.” Sam absentmindedly rubbed the “stack” of papers next to her, some of them falling to the side and revealing part of the box. She didn’t notice it, but unfortunately Cansu did.

“What the…” Cansu stepped forward, squinting at the wooden object next to the teenage girl. “...Samara, I don’t mean to pry at all, but…what is that?”

“Huh? What are you—” Sam froze, staring down at the box next to her for a moment before picking it up, allowing Cansu to get a better look at it. “Basil and I found this box earlier. We’re not sure what it is, but we’re hoping that we might be able to open—”

“NO!” Cansu’s voice rose as she rapidly snatched the box from Samara’s hands, holding it close to her chest, as if it were a lifeline. Samara flinched, her wide-eyed, shocked expression taking over her whole face as she stared at her aunt, Basil wearing a similar expression. 

The silence that followed was heavy, filling every inch of the room and threatening to suffocate its occupants. The only trace of noise, albeit barely audible unless you listened for it, was the sound of Cansu’s breathing, as she tried to stop her hyperventilating.

But in the end, after a nearly endless amount of time, Samara was the one to break the silence. “Aunt Cansu? A-Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes, I’m fine. I-It’s just…” Cansu took a deep breath. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to open this right now. Why don’t I put this away for now, and we can look at this with your uncle later, okay?”

“W—”

“Don’t worry, dear, it’s in good hands, don’t worry!” Cansu was smiling, but the usual placidity that remained stagnant on her face had disappeared as she held onto the box in her arms with an iron grip, backing out of the room slowly. “I’ll leave you to talk with your friend now, goodnight Sam!” She slammed the door hard as she left, the two teens hearing Cansu’s footsteps move rapidly down the hall.

“W…what just happened?” Basil finally blurted out, her rapidly-blinking eyes darting around the room.

“I-I don’t know. Aunt Cansu—I’ve never seen her act like that, ever.” Sam stared at the door, grasping at her sheets with slightly shaking hands. “She’s always been so calm, even when things were going wrong, I don’t think…” She trailed off, turning back to the computer screen, but she averted Basil’s gaze, biting her lip.

“Sam?” Basil whispered. “Samara, are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Basil, I…I think Aunt Cansu is hiding something.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

It feels like there’s a huge lump in my throat as I swallow hard, speedwalking through the hall, holding the box close to my chest as if my life depends on it. Because it does. Because in here, in this little wooden lockbox, there’s…

I inhale sharply through my nose. I shouldn’t think about it. I feel sick.

How did Sam find this? I mean, I know she had an aptitude for exploring the woods, but I know I hid it away, I know I did! I had no choice—Samara was an adventurous spirit, both now and while she was growing up. If I had kept it in the house, and she found it—

No. Don’t think about it, Cansu. You know better than that.

I turn on my heel, sharp and quick, fingernails nervously tapping against the wooden lid as I hurriedly rush into my husband’s study. It’s not like the kids aren’t allowed in there—OJ actually comes in and out fairly regularly, matter of fact. But Sylvie doesn’t like it when they poke through his stuff. He has all his stuff organized a certain way, and it really ruffles his feathers when he finds his things out of place. 

Which makes it a good hiding place.

I step over to the bookshelf, the box in my hands suddenly feeling almost ten times heavier than it actually is. My hands shaking, I slide some books off the shelf, carefully placing the box on its side, in a way that would make it look like it was part of the shelf—well, after I replaced the books, that is.

I can’t help but let out a heavy sigh. Is it from relief, or from the deep, unlabored breath that I had been holding in ever since I saw the box in Samara’s hands? I can’t tell. And my mouth feels off, filling with a taste that’s both familiar and unrecognizable. I clasp my hands together, taking deep, shuddery breaths, trying to calm down.

I can’t stop shaking.

But why? I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?

Yes. Yes you are, Cansu. You’re…you’re keeping her safe. Even though you’re lying to her.

“Fuck,” I hiss, clenching my hands tighter. “I-I…I’m sorry, Sam. This is for…for the greater good.”

I don’t believe a word I’m saying.

But…I have to keep my promise.

For my family.

For my children.

For Samara.

And especially for you, my dear, departed Hedwig.