Valentina Anderson tried to end her life on the same day as Hannah Baker, but survived to face a world unraveling with secrets. She never imagined her life would be defined by loss. First, it was Jeff Atkins, the love of her life, tragically taken i...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The doorbell had been ringing incessantly, breaking through the heavy silence of the house. Mom and Julian were out, leaving me alone with my thoughts, thoughts I didn’t want to face. With a sigh of frustration, I made my way downstairs, half-expecting it to be some idiot from school. But when I opened the door, it was Clay.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice edged with annoyance.
Clay shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his shoes. "I’m going to the address Sheri gave."
I stared at him, unimpressed. "So?"
He took a deep breath, clearly trying to find the right words. "Aren’t you coming?"
I shook my head, feeling a familiar ache rise in my chest. "No."
"Val," he said, his voice soft, pleading. "Please. Let her explain what she wants to."
My heart clenched, and I snapped, my voice sharp. "Will her explanation bring Jeff back?"
Clay fell silent, his eyes dropping to the ground. He didn’t have an answer, because there was none.
"Then I’m not coming anywhere," I spat, trying to slam the door, but Clay stopped it with his hand.
"Please, Val. I think I know where the address is."
"I don’t care, Clay," I muttered, feeling my frustration bubbling over.
"It’s Mr. Cantrell’s address," he said quietly.
I froze, the name hitting me like a punch to the gut. "What?"
"The man from… the ," Clay explained, his voice hesitant.
"I know who he is," I whispered, my hand gripping the doorframe tightly. Memories of that night flooded back, the sound of sirens, the smell of burning rubber, and Jeff… lying there, unmoving.
"What is she trying to prove?" I muttered, more to myself than Clay.
"I don’t know," he replied softly. "But we have to go and see for ourselves."
With a heavy sigh, I nodded. I didn’t want to, but something in me—maybe the part still clinging to Jeff’s memory—made me agree. We walked in silence, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us like a storm cloud.
When we reached the house, Clay knocked, and I stood beside him, my heart pounding in my chest. Mrs. Cantrell answered the door with a warm, familiar smile.
"Mrs. Cantrell, I don’t know if you remember me," Clay began, his voice polite, but nervous.
"Clay, of course!" she replied, her face lighting up with recognition.
"From the night of the accident," he added, though it felt like a ghostly reminder in the air.
"Of course!" she said again, as if it hadn’t been the worst night of our lives. "Sheri said a Clay would be dropping by."
