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Unmailed letters?
Ellie dug deeper and pulled out a faded journal, its leather cover worn with age. Her heart pounding, she opened the front cover to reveal her sister’s familiar scrawl. Her name—Hope Summers—was written on the inside cover, followed by a series of dates starting from the year she disappeared.
Ellie sat cross-legged on the floor and began to flip through the pages, her eyes skimming over mundane details about chores and meetings, slowly forming a picture of commune life. Cal joined her, but his attention focused on a box filled with old cassette tapes accompanied by a beat-up tape recorder.
“Elle,” he said, holding up one of the tapes. He blew off the dust and squinted at the label. “This one says, ‘Hope’s Testimony’. Want to give it a listen?”
Ellie nodded, her heart racing as Cal inserted the cassette into the tape recorder and pressed play. The room filled with static before Hope’s voice rang out, clear and strong.
She should know the voice by heart, she thought. Hope’s voice should be as familiar to her as Alexis’s, but instead, it belonged to a stranger.
The recording was hopelessly staticky and occasionally skipped entire words, but Hope sounded like a woman who had found her purpose.
“I used to believe that I was worthless... that my life meant nothing. But now... I understand my worth. I am important here. I am loved. I have a family.”
Ellie’s heart clenched as tears welled in her eyes. She already had a family. Maybe her relationship with Mom hadn’t been great, but she had two sisters who adored her. Didn’t they mean anything to her? How could she forget about them so easily?
Cal’s hand found hers, his warm presence a beacon of comfort in the midst of their grim discovery. She clung to him as Hope’s recording played on, her heart aching for the sister she hadn’t known.
As the tapes continued, Hope’s stories became more disjointed, veering wildly from recounting the mundane - meals they ate, jobs assigned—to the bizarre rituals and Hopeful’s sermons that summoned both adoration and apprehension.
She spoke of True’s birth, her voice taking on a tender note that made Ellie’s heart ache.
“She’s my salvation,” Hope said softly. “My chance to do something right.”
The tape ended, and Cal popped it out of the recorder. He then randomly chose another one from the stack and slid it into the slot.
Hope’s voice filled the room again, muffled but full of fervor. “... he showed me the truth. Freedom isn’t about doing whatever we want. It’s about living in harmony with our purpose. He knows the way to eternal peace, and I’m the key.”
Ellie stiffened. “The key? What the hell does that mean?”
“Wait. Listen.” He rewound it a little before pressing play again.
Hope’s words filled the room once more, her voice shaking now. “He’s dangerous… he’s not what he pretends to?—”
The tape ended.
The silence in the room was deafening. Ellie stared at the tape recorder, her heart pounding in her chest.
He’s dangerous...
What had happened to make her sister change her mind so abruptly?
Cal put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She didn’t look at him, instead reaching out to eject the tape from the player.
A sudden noise had both of them jumping—a creaking sound, like someone stepping on old wood. Cal was on his feet in an instant, pulling Ellie up with him and dragging her into the old armoire. She held her breath as the door to the shack squeaked open, and a beam of sunlight spilled into the room.
A figure stepped in, blocking out the light as he moved further inside.
Hopeful.
His gaze swept over the room before settling on the tape recorder sitting on the floor in front of the couch. His brows furrowed, a look of confusion replacing the usual calmness on his face. Then realization dawned, turning into anger.
He strode towards the tape player, picking it up and inspecting it, his hands shaking slightly. With a swift motion, he yanked the tape out of the player, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for signs of an intruder.
Ellie’s heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she was sure Hopeful would hear it. But he turned away from their hiding spot, and she exhaled silently in relief.
Suddenly, Hopeful’s gaze shifted to the photo wall. He walked over to them, stopped in front of Hope’s picture, and touched it tenderly. His expression softened into something unrecognizably gentle—almost affectionate—but it hardened into a steely determination.
