The Last Message

Sarah sat at the desk in her dimly lit apartment, her fingers trembling as they hovered above the keyboard. It had been weeks since she'd last heard from him—weeks since the mysterious disappearance of David, her fiancé. The police were no help. Of course, they'd filed a report, but they didn't seem particularly invested in finding him. The case was quickly labeled "cold," and the authorities had moved on. But Sarah couldn't. She knew something wasn't right in her heart, and she couldn't let go.

It all started when David had gone on a business trip to the remote mountain cabin where he usually went to get away. A little off-the-grid escape, he called it. He'd gone there a hundred times before, and Sarah had never thought twice about it. But when he didn't return after five days, Sarah became concerned. A message from David on the fifth morning before he disappeared had been the last communication she'd received. It was brief: "I'm in a strange place. Something's off here. Don't worry, I'll be home soon."

And then, silence.

She redialed his number. There was no answer, and his voicemail was full. The voicemail that had once been so warm with his voice now felt like an empty shell. Desperation had driven her to search the cabin he'd rented for years. When the authorities didn't take her seriously, she moved to an isolated location. She spent hours searching the woods surrounding the cabin, looking for any sign of him. But she found no footprints, abandoned belongings, or broken branches—as if David had vanished into thin air.

But there was something that had caught her eye. A faint, almost imperceptible message carved into a tree near the cabin—a strange combination of symbols and letters. It looked like it had been scratched there recently. Something about it made her heart race. It didn't seem like David's handwriting, but in her mind, a voice told her that the message might lead her somewhere. That might be a clue.

And so, Sarah had come home, tried to put the pieces together, and poured over every possible explanation. She had called David's colleagues, friends, and even family, but no one had seen or heard from him.

Weeks went by. Sarah had given up hope. Or so she thought. It was 3:00 AM when she sat at her desk again, mind racing, staring at the screen. Her eyes blurred from too many sleepless nights, but her fingers didn't stop typing. A new idea had sparked in her. What if David had left something behind in his apartment? Perhaps he had left a message for her that the authorities hadn't noticed. A hidden note or a file that might help her make sense of what was happening.

Sarah's fingers found the password to David's laptop—their anniversary date. She hadn't thought about it in weeks, but somehow, her fingers moved automatically. The screen flickered to life, and she immediately opened his email inbox.

There was a message from the day he disappeared, just a few hours before his last text to her.

It read:

"I think they're onto me. It's not safe here anymore. If something happens to me, you need to go to the cabin. Look for the symbols. You'll find the answers."

Sarah's breath caught in her throat. What symbols? And why hadn't he told her more?

She frantically clicked through the rest of the emails, looking for more clues, but nothing stood out. She searched his calendar, files, and anything else that could give her more direction, but her mind kept returning to the exact words: "Look for the symbols."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced back to the email. There was one more thing—a subject line she had missed.

Urgent: The truth.

She opened it. The email was brief but chilling.

"Sarah, there are things you don't know. I'm not who you think I am. The man you know is not the real me. But you can save me. You must. Follow the symbols."

Her body froze. Her thoughts spiraled into confusion and fear. What did he mean? What truth was he hiding from her?

As if to answer her question, an alert popped up on her phone—a notification from an app she didn't recognize. It was a text from David's number. But it wasn't written by him.

The message read:

"She's already figured it out. It's too late."

Her stomach dropped. What was going on? Why was someone using David's phone? And why did they sound like they knew what she had discovered?

She took a deep breath and stood up, her mind whirling as she grabbed her jacket. The cabin. She had to go back. There was no other choice.

When Sarah arrived at the cabin hours later, the sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky a dull shade of pink. She barely noticed the beauty of the landscape as she hurried toward the spot where she had seen the symbols carved into the tree. Her pulse was pounding in her ears as she scanned the area, eyes frantically searching for any sign of what David had left for her.

And then, she saw it.

Carved into the tree was a new set of symbols. The same ones she had seen weeks ago. But this time, there were more—new lines and intricate details that hadn't been there before. It was as though they were… changing.

At that moment, a cold chill ran down her spine. Sarah bent down to get a closer look, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. The symbols were no longer just a strange pattern. They were forming words.

"You're too late. You can't save him. The truth is he never existed."

The ground beneath her seemed to shift, and for a split second, she thought she heard a voice behind her. When she turned, she saw an unfamiliar face—a man in a dark coat, his features obscured by the shadows.

"I see you've discovered the truth," the man said in a low, gravelly voice. "But the truth doesn't always set you free."

Before Sarah could speak, the man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a phone. "We were waiting for you. Now, it's time."

He pressed a button, and a new message from David's phone flashed on the screen. The words left her breathless.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to know. I'm not who I said I was. The truth is— I never was David. I was sent to watch you. To learn everything about you. You've been part of something much bigger than you realize. The game is over."

The phone slipped from the man's hand and hit the ground with a dull thud. Sarah's world came crashing down around her.

David, the man she had loved, the man who had been her fiancé—was never confirmed.

The man who had been her fiancé… was never even David.