Let's not forget that racism STILL exists in our world (sadly). The more we portray its existence, being with any person of the poc community (African-Americans, Asians, Latinos, Arabs, etc), the more we bring awareness to this problem.

The views/expressions/language used in this chapter are NOT my personal opinion or take of the world! I'm Latina and I've had horrible experiences with racism (it isn't pretty at all, it's gut wrenching).

With that being said, the word 'n---er' is used in this chapter in its entirety. My purpose is not to offend anyone, so if you feel uncomfortable with one of my characters saying the word, please tell me. I will censor it if this is the case.

Happy reading, loves ♡

49
ALEXA KING
-Present-

Levittown's woods
October 28, 2018
4:00 a.m.

THE HOUSE STANDS OMONIOUSLY in the middle of a circular grove. Vast land extends from all its sides, as if it were placed purposely in an undiscovered part of the world. There's grass dotting here and there, but humid dirt obscures its once vivid green to make of the land a dark brown muck. The dirt path that Melody mentioned in her letter is more solid than the rest of the land and rests in front of the house, just in the middle. The path snakes through the ground as if it were alive, resting beneath our shoes and extending behind us for miles and miles until it connects with our sacred rock.

There's something odd about this location. Nothing in it is quite right.

The trees, although forming a circle around the house as if it were a place of sacrifice, stand side by side to each other perfectly, without other trees or branches invading the small distance that separates them from one another. Other trees stand behind these ones in the same fashion and, from the looks of it, the pattern goes on and on endlessly. The distances created between them form paths of their own. From where I'm standing, they all lead to darkness. If you stare directly at it for too long, it assures you that, once you're in, it's going to swallow you whole.

The only thing that breaks the pattern is this narrow opening that gives easy access to the house. It's wider than the distance that each tree has from one another and has space for both of us, but our shoulders are a breath away from coming in contact with the trees that are planted on either side of us.

It seems like a tree was removed from its roots where we're standing for the single purpose of creating an entrance. If one was removed, it means that the ones behind it were too. But who has the time to make such an arduous job? It would've taken years to remove all of those trees. Then again, I don't know how long U has been residing among us, hiding behind a known and innocent face but showing its true self in the darkness of this place.

The trees are swallowed by the pitch-black sky, their crowns shrouded with a grayish white mist. Crows fly through the thick layer of fog, emanating loud caws and ear-piercing croaks that send shivers down my spine. All the hairs in my body stand on end. Crows are symbols of bad omens, warnings of upcoming danger. They're in horror movies and books. I can't help but think about The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe, even though I've been neglecting my classes.

"I called the cops," Sebastián says, his voice echoing around us. He doesn't seem to notice as he types away on his phone, but I look around this deserted place and follow the disturbance that his voice has created. "Los cabrones asked a shit ton of questions, but they're coming. I sent them our location right now."

He turns the phone to me, the screen's light flashing on my face and blinding me for a brief second. There's a red location pin on the screen, right in the middle of nowhere. We're deep in the woods. This house is deep in the woods, shielded by its vast immensity. When we were kids, our parents would often warn us about how easily we could disappear in them. We were only allowed to go as far as the riverbank. Anyone can easily get lost here, never to be seen again. Just like Janet Brown and all the other girls before and after her.

Pretty girls like you get lost in these woods all the time, Alexa.

His voice, familiar yet unknown. I shake the thought away.

If it took us almost two hours to get here, it'll take the police at least an hour on car. I just hope they're here on time. I hope that we find everything we need to demonstrate our credibility and that Melody's killer is found. I hope a tragedy doesn't happen.

I hope for a lot of things and can only rely on that tiny sliver of faith that I'm emitting to the world. It's up to the world to listen to me. It's up to Levittown to accept that tiny sliver of light, the one that's always been waiting at the end of all this darkness.

"Do we have to go inside?" Sebastián mumbles, leaning against a tree with his hands folded over his chest. "We can just wait for the cops here."

It's tempting. I look back at the house, assessing everything in it before deciding. There are several windows adorning its upper section, but only two are large enough to resemble eyes. Although faded blue curtains cover their interior, it feels as though they're looking right at me. The front porch, much like in Mel's painting, is almost vacant. There are no benches, no windows, no life to it. But its wooden door, with the snake-like ivy curving in the cracks of the brick wall around it, is the mouth.

This monster of a house has a life of its own. That life is looking right at us, daring us to come inside. There's a menacing aura around it, an assurance that, once inside, it'll be almost impossible to get out. Would I really take that risk for Melody?

For Christopher?

For the truth?

For my life?

I'm next in U's list. My life is on the line. But if there's a list, doesn't that mean that other innocent people will be killed after me? I have to take the risk.

"I have to go inside, Seb. You read what Mel wrote. We need the evidence if we want the police to believe us. Only then can they start searching for the real killer. Only then can we save potential victims," I mumble, my voice sounding confident despite feeling the complete opposite. "You don't have to if you don't want to. You can wait for me here."

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you go in there alone. We'll do this shit together."

We shrink and shrink the more we get close to the house, its shadow blanketing us as it looks down on us. I feel so little, so small, so insignificant. I could disappear right now, forever, and no one will care except for my father. Life will continue without me, without caring if I'm dead or alive. Nothing would change or shift or stop for me. Millions and millions of people will have normal lives, consciously ignorant about the ones who go missing every year.

That's the only way to live a normal and happy life: ignorance. There's always a price to pay for freedom.

Our steps are tentative as we approach the front porch. Its wooden door is there, waiting to devour us. The atmosphere changes, just like it did on the night of Melody's disappearance and the one of her murder. A calm wind dances across the trees, ruffling leaves, caressing my skin, until it reaches my ear and speaks in a language that's foreign to me. I don't need to understand it to know what it means. It's a warning to not go inside.

Maybe it's a gut-feeling or Levittown itself. I should listen to whatever it is, but the key to finally get justice is right inside. I can't listen to it, even if it means that something worse will happen. This needs to end, right here and now.

Sebastián looks at me over his shoulder, his eyes making a silent question. Are you ready? I nod, holding my breath. He so much as touches the doorknob, not even twisting it to the side to see if it was locked, and the door slowly opens with a loud creak following it. I shiver as the sound bounces all around us even after it stopped, the echoes getting weaker until they die. The woods are making fun of us.

Just when I'm on the threshold, in between U's world and my freedom, I see her over my shoulder. My heart picks up pace, the pain pounding against my chest. I don't know if it's fear or sadness. It all feels the same now. Melody's just a product of my memory now, a mirage that appears in moments of distress.

That's not her. That's just a reflection of me.

With a lump forming in my throat, I look away from her and enter the house. I leave behind my freedom, my world, and myself. Just for a little while, at least. There's always a price to pay for freedom.

The door clicks shut behind me softly. I'm greeted with both darkness and silence. My eyes are trying to adjust to this all-consuming darkness. They grow and blink rapidly, until they're able to acquire some sort of visibility. Everywhere I turn, everywhere I look, it's all pitch black.

"I can't see shit," Sebastián hisses from somewhere ahead.

"Where are you?" I say, extending my arms forward to reach for him.

"I don't like this." He sounds closer, but I still can't find him. "Where's the fucking light?"

I give up on trying to reach him and turn around. My hands are flailing around until they come in contact with the cold surface of a wall. As I roam around it, I find a light switch. I flick it, up and down, up and down, but nothing happens.

"Shit, shit, shit. The light switch doesn't work," I mumble with a sigh, and lean back on the wall.

A blinding white light illuminates my face, leaving me blind for a moment. I cover my face with my hand, just enough so that I have the chance to look at the source of the light. Sebastián is pointing his phone's flashlight at me.

"Come on. Turn yours on," he says, still directing the bright light at me. "It won't be long before the cops get here, and we need to find some evidence."

I squint as I search for my phone. Once I turn on its flashlight, we start to look around. Between our two phones, we create a field of light that both surrounds and extends before us. It moves with us, which is a liability. We don't have the certainty of knowing what lurks on the parts of the house that are left in darkness. We can point our phones toward different directions, but when a part is illuminated, another is unknown. If something or someone is lurking here, it can move around, avoiding our light.

A staircase is pushed to the right side of the entrance hall, united to a wall that has yellowing wallpaper peeling off from it. The entrance hall is not long or deep, just a short passage that leads right to a wooden wall. A wooden wall in a house that mostly has cement walls is strange, but what is on the actual wood is bizarre. We have to walk closer to it to get a better look.

"What the⸺"

Sebastián doesn't finish the thought. We've become entranced with the words and symbols that are drawn on it. A large U takes over most of the wall, a Christian cross resting right in its middle. It's a blood-like red paint, but I fear that it might actually be blood. There's a weird odor coming from it, metallic yet putrid. The drawing is not perfect. The unknown liquid dripped down before it was completely dry. It also looks like the shaky trail of fingers down the wall, as if someone was holding for dear life before they lost the battle.

There are several Christian crosses around it, all wooden and tipped on their sides. I involuntarily shiver, and notice that Sebastián does too. If the house looks like a place of sacrifice from the outside, this wall appears to be a region of obscure worship. There are words written on top of the U, that same U symbol that tainted Christopher's beautiful skin and is carved on Melody's killer. These words are stark white, crooked, and imperfectly aligned. Some sentences begin steady, but they start to fall until the message looks like a diagonal line. Others alternate between large and tiny words and hold different handwritings. With a long sigh, I start to read.

Unpolluted

Rules

1. Women must be virgins at the time of selection to prove they are pure. Men are allowed to have sexual intercourse before their selection. If a woman is not a virgin at the time of selection, she must prove her worth in other areas and will forever be considered impure.

2. Members must display an unquestioning commitment to their leader and regard his belief system, ideology and practices as the truth and law.

3. Members must not doubt, question or discourage the ideals and beliefs encouraged in Unpolluted. Punishment would be required.

4. Practices, such as meditation, chanting, and ceremonies, are mandatory for a healthy environment among members.

5. The leader dictates how the members should live their lives. They must get permission to things like marriage, jobs, schools, romantic partners, children, etc.

6. Members can't be impure (with the exception of women who weren't virgins at the time of their selection). This includes but is not limited to the following:

×Members can't be gay or something different from heterosexual.

×Members can't be Black, Asian, Latino, Indian, mixed, or other non-white races/ethnicities.

×Members can't be mentally ill.

×Members can't be atheists.

×Members can't be younger than fifteen

7. The leader is not accountable to any authorities such as teachers, priests and officers.

8. Unpolluted justifies extreme behavior and actions if it's necessary and vital. This includes lying, stealing, and killing.

9. Members must have Unpolluted's symbol tattooed on their hips.

10. Members must keep Unpolluted as a secret. No one can know it exists. Punishment is required if someone reveals it or plans to.

"Holy shit!"

"It's a cult," I whisper, gulping the painful lump that grew and grew in my throat as I read each rule. "U's a cult, not a person."

The U stands for Unpolluted. It's a symbol.

Sebastián looks back at me, his eyes wide with horror. "People, as in plural, killed Melody. She knew this. She knew too much, but stubborn as she was, she confronted them."

I try to focus on his words, but he sounds so far away. Several thoughts dominate my mind, one after the other.

I'm always watching. I'm everywhere. I'm omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient. Be careful. You wouldn't want to end up like Melody, would you?

I'm always watching, remember? Always remember this: when you think you're doing something without my noticing it, I'll always be one step ahead. The things you know, I'm allowing you to know. You don't have control over anything. You've never had, really. And now you're bothering me.

There were two of them, I think. They kept me in a room for several days.

There's the possibility that two killers were involved.

The truth was always there, hiding on plain sight. A paradox. No one is omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient. Members of this cult, this discriminatory, racist and homophobic cult, are residents of Levittown. They hide behind friendly faces --- library clerks, police officers, teachers, medical workers, students, friend's parents, friends themselves... And they were all keeping an eye on me, always, from all parts of town. That's how you become omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient.

Still, not all of them killed Melody. Yes, it appears that there was some type of plotting against her life from all of them, but only one person killed her. Possibly two, making one a participant of assisted murder and the other a murderer. Their leader. The cult as a whole participated in a conspiracy to murder Melody and who knows how many more people.

Did Christopher commit suicide or was he another victim of Unpolluted?

What is the purpose of Unpolluted? It doesn't make sense. What do they want?

"This is nuts," Seb says, snapping a few pictures of the wall. "We have enough evidence. Let's go before something worse happens."

I shake my head. "This is not enough. It only brings up more questions. We know what this wall means because we've read the letters, I investigated on my own and was personally threatened by U. But there's nothing in this wall that identifies Mel's killer. There isn't even a mention of her. Not a confession about her murder, nothing. This is nothing."

He sighs. "What do you suggest we do?"

"We need to search the entire house. If these rules are written on its entrance hall, imagine everything that must be hidden around the house," I say this with confidence, my voice steady and loud. But inside, there's an uncomfortable feeling growing. Fear. Horror. Sadness. A mix of all three. "I know this is the worst idea ever and the number one rule in dangerous situations, but we need to split up."

Sebastián doesn't flinch like I expect him to do. Instead, he sighs through his nose like he was expecting me to suggest the idea. We can both feel how sinister and ominous this all is, but the wall isn't enough evidence.

"I'll take downstairs," he mumbles, walking past me to start looking. "Be careful up there, okay? We don't know this house. I'll stay down here in case someone tries to come in."

I don't know why, but something propels me to hug him. His body is stiff in my embrace, but he soon wraps his arms around my waist. We stay like this for a while, just breathing each other in and feeling the unnatural beating of our hearts. We're both scared but determined to bring justice to Melody once and for all.

"See you in a little bit," I whisper, detaching from our warm embrace.

At the bottom of the stairs, the second floor looks isolated and dark. Like a black hole, waiting to swallow me whole to God-knows-where, never to be seen again. With a long intake of air, I place my hand on the wooden banister for support and slowly climb the stairs. Each step creaks under my weight in protest. The house rattles with the agonizing sound.

On top of the stairs, I notice the strange design of the second floor. There are three hallways: one extending before me, and two on either side of me. The two on either side of me aren't as appealing as the one before me. It seems to be calling out to me, leading me towards the right direction. Before I can do so, some commotion is heard downstairs.

"What the⸺"

The sound of something hard hitting bone, then that sharp crack of bone, bounces around the house. A loud thump follows after it, as if something heavy, like a body, fell to the floor. My heart starts to hammer against my chest, thumpthumpthump, like that body against the floor. My thoughts are all over the place. What happened?

"Sebastián?" I whisper, my voice failing me. I clear my throat and start again, this time louder. "Seb? Seb? Are you okay?"

No answer. Floorboards creak under someone's weight, slowly, as if they have all the time in the world to get to me. I resist this strong urge to cry and run inside the hallway that stands before me. With my phone tightly secured in my hand, I run without looking back, my heart in my throat. I try to open the many doors that stand on either side of me, but they're all locked. I can't hear if the person is closer to me.

I reach the end of the hall, where the last door stands ominously. The door is bigger and taller than all the other ones. It must be special because it's painted black, so different from the soft brown that all other possess. If this door doesn't open, I'm fucked. I'm trapped in U's trap, just like he wanted from the beginning, like a prey that proved to be weaker than its predator.

I look over my shoulder to see if he's there, standing behind me, breathing down my neck, waiting for me to turn in order to kill me. There's no one there, just the bright white of my flashlight illuminating an empty hall. My bottom lip trembles as I gulp down the lump in my throat, the beating of my heart, and some bile.

This was a horrible idea. Why didn't I listen to Seb? Oh, Seb. What did U do to him? Is he... dead? Oh God. I can't help the tears that start to pool down my cheeks. My whole body shakes, in pain, in agony, in fear. What will happen to me? My chest constricts at the thought. I don't want to die. If I'm going to die, I have to bring justice to my friends. I, at least, owe them that.

Floorboards creak close by, too close to me. My body freezes for a second, but I don't look ahead. I know he's there, looking at me, amused at my helplessness. Instead, I try the last door. It opens with ease, as if it's waiting for me. I run inside, locking the door behind me.

My body trembles as I back away from the door. There's no longer room for sadness, only for survival. It's 4:56 a.m. according to my phone. The police should be here any minute. I look around the room for something, anything I can use as a weapon.

There's a dusty baseball bat on a corner. It's perfect. I stuff my cellphone in my front pocket, the flashlight facing the door. My hands are wrapped around the bat in a grip so tight, you would've sworn I was holding it for dear life instead of using it as a weapon.

I wait in this position for several minutes, ready to swing it as hard as I can against the fucker's skull. Sweat coats the upper part of my lip, drips from my forehead, and drenches the back of my shirt. My breaths are uneven and labored as they come out of my mouth. My chest inflates and deflates with air rapidly, like it's in need of it more than ever. Everything in my body aches, but the adrenaline is keeping me strong.

No one comes. It's all silent. He's not even trying to break the door open. Everything stands still.

What does he want? How is he expecting me to play his game? How can I know what to do if I don't know what he's doing?

Something catches my eye from my peripheral vision. Another wall full of information. I walk toward it, bat still in hand. I grab my phone and read everything that's mapped out.

Unpolluted

Beliefs

1. Members are chosen for a special purpose.

2. Only pure people can live in Levittown.

3. The leader has the same power of God to command and judge, not only the members of Unpolluted, but people who are outside of it too. He determines what's pure and what's not. He determines the fate of people in Levittown.

I furrow my eyebrows, something sick and vile settling in my stomach. What constitutes as impure for U? What does he mean by the last part? To determine the fate of people is to have the power to... murder them. What the fuck is going on in Levittown?

There are pictures of people who have disappeared over the years lined from top to bottom on one corner that's labeled 'Unpolluted'. Polly Moore, Tara White, Christopher Shaw, Melody Tryniski, James Hill, Charlotte Smith, Mrs. Peterson, Mr. Hall, and the list goes on and on. Christopher and Melody's pictures were crossed out with a red marker. If U killed Melody and marked her, does it mean that he killed Christopher too?

He did. How else would he know that he's... dead? Christopher, my Christopher, died just a couple of hours ago. This son of a bitch killed him. I'm now sure of it. This means that he was crossed out recently. I pass my fingers against the red X, some residual tainting the buds of my fingers.

I grab Christopher's picture and yank it from the wall. It tears a little at the top, but it doesn't matter. I just need to feel him close to me, close to my heart, and away from this evil wall. He didn't want to be a part of this. Neither did Melody, so I yank her picture too and hold both of them close to my chest.

On the other side of the wall, there are pictures aligned both horizontal and vertically. Only one thing sticks out: they're all Black people. Among these faces that look so much like my own, there's one that catches my attention. Janet Brown. Why does U have a picture of her? Who are all these Black people?

The word 'Polluted' is written on top of the collection. All Black folks, like myself, like my momma and father, marked as 'Polluted'. I shake my head, trying to rid my mind from the thoughts that start to plague it.

My skin.

My physical features.

The texture of my hair.

My ancestors.

Me.

U hates...

No. This is not happening. This must be some twisted, repulsive, sick joke.

That's what their kind do.

My kind.

I guess it's in her blood. Y'know, with her mommy being a⸺

Don't say it.

Nigger.

Shut up!

Doesn't help her a lot to look like her sick mother.

Stop.

Nigger.

Please.

They don't understand the beauty of your skin,

Momma?

The complexity in your curly hair,

They don't.

The struggle of existing.

The struggle of existing. It all makes sense now. She makes sense. She knew it all along and wanted to protect me from it. Hate. Rage. Racism. It has many names, many forms, many faces.

Beside the 'Polluted' section, there's a list with names crossed out except for the last five.

Alexa King.

Edgar King.

Logan Price.

Loretta Price.

Devin Price.

These five names represent the Black community in Levittown. We're the only Black folks living here. All the other Black families moved away after what happened with W.S. This can't be happening.

Further down, there are other names:

Sebastián Giménez.

Rodrigo Giménez.

María Giménez.

Nari Lee.

Ann Lee.

Song-Ho Lee.

I back away from the wall, my heart sinking to my stomach. There's something seriously fucked up with this town, something twisted and calculated and sinister. I've always known it. I've always felt it. Is this what Levittown's been hiding?

Someone chuckles from somewhere behind me. My body freezes for a moment and then it hits me. He's been here the whole time, watching me, analyzing me, amusing himself with my reaction. This is a setup. It has to be.

Now I really want to play. I want you, Alexa. Come and find me. I dare you.

He has me right where he wants me. By now, my only hope is the police. Where are they?

I'm too scared to turn around. My grip tightens around the bat as I turn around slowly, my bottom lip trembling. He's giving me his back, but I know him. His brown hair is swept to the side rather messily, like it was perfect before and got disheveled at some point during the night. He's tall and strong as he stands there, his muscled torso covered with a white dress shirt. The one he wears for work, only this time it's crinkled and dirty. His shoulders shake as he continues to laugh at me, the sound of his laughter bouncing off the walls all around us.

It's bold of him to give me his back. It's even bolder to assume that I won't strike him with this bat. As I lift the bat up, my hands tremble. I have to remind myself that it's his life or mine. This needs to stop forever.

Before I can do so, someone grabs me from behind. It's another man. I can feel his body pressed against mine, strong and lean. I struggle to free myself from his grasp, my screams making U laugh even harder. I throw some kicks and try to hit my attacker with some punches, but it's all in vain. He wraps his arm around my neck, almost choking me, and presses a cold metal against my temple. I don't have to look at it to know it's a gun.

I'm as good as dead.

"Don't move."

•Word count: 4,800•

Countdown: 1 chapter left + an epilogue!!!!!!!!!! ♡

I'm leaving you guys on a cliffhanger 😅 It isn't my intention, but it's been more than a month since I last updated and I wanted to give you guys part of the finale. Chapter 50 is already planned, but it's not written. I'll be writing it this week and hope to publish it right after.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 30K+ READS AND 2K+ VOTES!!!!!!!!! You guys are amazing ♡ I can't believe my little book has gone this far.

I'm excited because a) Levittown will be my first EVER finished novel (it took me 2 years, but here we are, so close to the end); b) the Wattys are here and I want to submit Levittown (it probably won't win, but I want to try!!!); and c) I'm preparing to write my second novel, which is the one I want as my debut as a serious author someday ♡

Questions: how do you feel now that you're SO close to the BIG reveal? Do you have any theories based on the information provided in this chapter? Can you guess who the killer(s) is/are? Are you scared for Alexa? Are you excited for the end? What happened to Seb? Did Christopher commit suicide or was he killed? What are you expecting from this book? How do you feel about the chapter? Was it worth the wait? What will happen next?

Feel free to correct any grammatical errors, but be kind about it. Tell me what you think of this chapter.

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