Part 3 of ‘don’t be scared’ pleaseeeeeee 🙏
I’m so gladdd likes this series . This will be the last part. UNLESS y’all want a sequel to were they become closer. Parts 1 nd 2 are on my master list.
The words He found me refused to leave your mind.
You had read the note so many times the paper had begun to soften beneath your fingertips, the folds wearing thin from being opened and closed over and over again. Every time you looked at the handwriting, your stomach tightened.
Finney had written this one.
The nervous, uneven slant of his letters matched every assignment you’d ever seen him turn in at school. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t trying to scare you.
“What does he mean?” you asked quietly, looking back at Gwen.
She shook her head, tears collecting in her eyes. “I don’t know.”
“When he left…” Gwen continued after a moment, “he wasn’t acting like himself. He barely slept. Every time I asked what was wrong, he’d look out the window first before answering. Like he thought someone was outside.”
A cold shiver crawled down your spine.
“I thought it was another nightmare,” she admitted. “After… everything he’s been through…” Her voice faltered. “I figured he was just scared again.”
You looked back down at the note.
The words suddenly felt less like a warning…
The following week, the police searched for Finney.
Flyers appeared around town.
Teachers tried to continue lessons as if everything were normal, but nobody could focus. His empty desk became impossible to ignore. Every morning your eyes drifted toward it before you could stop yourself.
You hated that you missed him.
You hated that despite everything, you were worried.
The memory of him sitting outside your bedroom door still made your heart race. He had crossed a line that never should have been crossed.
But the fear in his voice…
Three nights later, another note appeared.
This time it wasn’t left on your windowsill.
It was slipped beneath your front door.
Your hands shook before you’d even opened it.
Inside were only six words.
Meet me where it started. Alone.
Something about the handwriting immediately felt wrong.
Then, almost hidden in the corner of the page, was a tiny pencil mark.
Three short lines crossing one another.
You’d seen that symbol before.
In the corner of the very first sketch left outside your window.
Whoever had been pretending to be Finney…
Against every instinct telling you to stay home, you drove to the abandoned park on the edge of town.
It was where you’d first noticed someone watching you months ago.
The swings creaked gently in the evening breeze.
The entire place was empty.
Your footsteps crunched across the gravel path as the sun disappeared behind the trees.
The voice came from behind you.
Finney stepped out from between two oak trees.
His blond hair was longer than you remembered, dark circles sat beneath his eyes, and there were faint scratches along his arms.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
You took one cautious step backward.
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“You came into my house.”
Every answer came without hesitation.
The words hung in the air.
“I kept telling myself I was making sure you were safe.” His voice cracked. “I convinced myself it wasn’t hurting anyone.”
“And that’s all that matters.”
The apology didn’t erase everything.
Some things couldn’t simply disappear because someone regretted them.
But you could see the guilt written across his face.
Not guilt from being caught.
Guilt from realizing what he’d become.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he continued quietly. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I just needed you to know that I know I was wrong.”
Silence settled between you.
Then a twig snapped somewhere behind the trees.
Both of your heads turned.
Finney’s expression changed instantly.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
Before you could ask another question, another figure stepped from the woods.
Their face was hidden beneath the shadow of a hood.
They stopped several yards away.
“You finally figured it out,” the stranger said calmly.
“You spent so long looking at the wrong person.”
Finney instinctively stepped in front of you.
“I watched him watch you.”
The words echoed through the trees.
“It made everything so much easier.”
Someone had been watching both of you.
The stranger took another slow step forward.
“He thought he could protect you.”
“He never noticed I was following him too.”
Without warning, flashing lights appeared through the trees.
The stranger turned and disappeared into the woods before officers could reach them.
The search lasted until sunrise.
They never found whoever it was.
Only footprints disappearing deeper into the forest.
The weeks that followed were quiet.
The late-night knocks never came again.
For the first time in months, you slept with your curtains open.
The police spoke with him at length about everything that had happened. He admitted to following you, leaving the drawings, and coming into your house. He never tried to excuse it. Every difficult conversation ended the same way.
Not because he wanted forgiveness.
He also started meeting regularly with a counselor, something Gwen gently encouraged him to keep doing. It wasn’t a magic fix, and he never pretended it was. Healing was slow, and some days were harder than others, but he was trying to understand his fears instead of letting them control him.
Winter faded into spring.
One afternoon you found yourself sitting on the bleachers after school, watching the baseball field while the wind carried the smell of fresh-cut grass across campus.
Finney stopped a few feet away.
He sat, leaving plenty of space between the two of you.
For several minutes neither of you spoke.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.
“I still think about apologizing,” he admitted with a nervous laugh. “Every day.”
“I probably always will.”
He looked down at his hands.
“I don’t expect things to ever be like they were.”
“They can’t be,” you answered honestly.
“But…” you continued, “people can change.”
He looked at you then, surprised.
Another silence settled between you.
You reached into your backpack and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I almost threw this away.”
You looked out across the empty field before answering.
“Because it’s a reminder.”
“That people are more than the worst mistake they’ve ever made.”
His eyes filled with tears.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke.
“So…” you said, offering a small smile, “would you maybe want to start over?”
“I mean… no secrets. No following me. No pretending everything’s okay when it isn’t.”
A tiny laugh escaped him.
He smiled—a real smile this time, small and uncertain, but genuine.
“I’d like to earn your trust.”
You started walking toward the parking lot.
After a few steps, you glanced back.
He hurried to catch up, still keeping a respectful distance beside you.
Because he’d learned that caring about someone also meant respecting their boundaries.
For the first time since all of this began, walking beside him didn’t feel frightening.
It simply felt like the beginning of something new.
Not because the past had been forgotten.
But because, together, you had chosen not to let it define the future.
