What She Carries

Jessica stepped out of the tomb and into the dim underground corridor, her breath uneven, unsteady. The weight of centuries pressed against her chest—not just the dust and the silence, but the knowledge. She had found the truth. She had buried it. And now, she was ready to leave it behind.

Her boots scuffed against the stone as she walked toward the exit, toward the only two people in the world who mattered. Leanna and Olivia were waiting. Leanna’s arms were crossed, her face unreadable—but her eyes searched Jessica’s, scanning for cracks, for wounds, for something she could fix. Olivia didn’t speak, but her fingers curled against her sleeves, a nervous habit she had never shaken.

They were both waiting for her to say something. Waiting to understand what had changed. Jessica didn’t have the words.So she just stepped forward and pulled them both into a hug.

It was tight, desperate, longer than it should have been. She felt Olivia stiffen for half a second before she melted into it, gripping Jessica just as tightly. Leanna let out a breath Jessica hadn’t even realized she was holding and wrapped her arms around them both.

Jessica clenched her jaw, but it was too late. Tears burned in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks before she could stop them. She didn’t sob. Didn’t break. But the tears came anyway. Silent. Steady.

Leanna felt the tremor in her shoulders and froze. Jessica hadn’t cried like this in years. Not since those early days in the apartment, when she was still trying to be Jason, still trying to hold herself together when everything was falling apart.

She hadn’t told them everything. She never would. Some memories belonged to her alone. That was the only way to survive.

Jessica pulled back, rubbing her sleeve against her damp eyes. Then, she exhaled. The past was buried for now. The cycle was hers to carry. But what she remembered, what she chose to reveal, would remain her secret.

She glanced at Leanna, then Olivia, her oldest friends, her family, the people who had never left. She let out a slow breath, and said it. “Come on. We’re going home.”

* * *

Rome was behind them.Jessica didn’t look back. She sat on the plane between Olivia and Leanna, her head tilted against the seat, eyes half-closed, body finally at rest. She was leaving the truth behind. The cycle. The past. The weight of every life before her. She was no longer afraid because she was choosing something bigger than the past. She was choosing the present. She was choosing herself.

* * *

The apartment was dark, the sea wind pushing faintly through the open window. Jessica sat at her desk, a leather journal open in front of her. For the first time in years, she let the words spill. Names. Dates. Faces. All the things she had carried in silence. She wrote until her hand ached, until the ink smudged across her knuckles. When she finished, she dated the first page and didn’t sign it. Keepers never did. She closed the book and slid it into the false bottom of the drawer. Out of sight. Out of reach.

She exhaled. If they came for her, if she didn’t walk away next time, someone would find it. Until then, the memories were hers alone. That was the only way to survive.

* * *

The waves were steady. The whiskey was sharp. Sam leaned back in his chair, watching Jessica across the porch. She held her glass loosely, swirling the amber liquid, staring at the horizon.

He didn’t ask what had happened. He didn’t need to. Instead, he just said, “You look lighter.”

Jessica smirked faintly. “That obvious?”

Sam sipped his drink. “Only to people who know you.”

She let the silence linger while she stared out to sea. After the brief pause, Jessica exhaled. “It’s over.”

Sam didn’t look at her. “No, it’s not.”

Jessica tilted her head. Sam set his glass down. “You’ll carry it, Jess. Whatever it is, whatever you burned. It won’t be on paper, but it’ll be in you. Forever.”

Jessica nodded. “I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Jessica took a slow sip of whiskey, and softly replied, “I am now.”

The wind shifted. The ocean stretched wide before them, endless and untouchable. Jessica let out a slow breath. She had spent years chasing ghosts. Now? She was ready to live. Not for the past. Not for the cycle. Not for the people who had come before. Just for herself.

Sam leaned back, watching her with that steady calm that always cut through the noise. “You’ve been carrying this so long, Jess, you forgot what it feels like to breathe without it.”

Jessica smirked faintly. “And now?”

“Now,” Sam said, lifting his glass, “you finally look like someone who’s choosing what to carry.”

Jessica lifted hers in answer. “Then maybe it’s time I start.”

The End.

Jessica is home. The past is buried. The truth is hers alone. And for the first time, she is truly free. The Story Ends Here. But Jessica’s life doesn’t. She will keep moving, keep living, keep choosing. And if the world comes looking for the truth? Well. That’s their problem.