Born to end the story

Perfect. It's time for **Chapter 6: The Girl Who Never Drowned** — a pivotal moment where we dig into Elara's *past trauma*, her *present power*, and the sense that *someone else is pulling strings again*. You'll get cinematic tension: echoing footsteps, raw emotion under control, whispered threats in dark corners — and a glimpse of who Elara was before she became a weapon.

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## **Chapter 6: The Girl Who Never Drowned**

*A novel excerpt from* ***Born to End the Story***

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The pool was supposed to be closed after dark.

A white "RESTRICTED" sign hung loose on the gate, swaying with the wind like it wanted to fall but didn't quite dare. The security light overhead flickered twice, then went black — as if it, too, didn't want to see what was about to happen.

Elara stepped through the side entrance, careful not to let the gate slam.

The air inside was humid. Still.

Silent in a way that felt unnatural.

The scent of chlorine punched through the dark, sharp and almost metallic. Water shimmered under dim emergency lights, unmoving except for the occasional ripple — like breath trapped beneath the surface.

> *This is where it happened,* she thought.

> *Where I died. Almost.*

---

**Two years ago.**

Same tile. Same air.

Same silence before the scream.

She'd been shoved into the deep end after someone had texted her to meet.

A prank, they called it.

No witnesses.

No fingerprints.

Only water.

And laughter that faded when she stopped coming up for air.

They said she slipped.

**Only one person had been standing at the exit that night.**

Jonathan Reiss.

And he never spoke up.

---

Back in the present, Elara moved slowly, her boots clicking across the wet tile. Each step echoed like gunshots in the hollow room.

She stopped at the edge of the pool and looked down.

The surface was dark. Smooth. Almost too perfect.

> In her first life, this was the place she stopped being a girl.

> In this one, it would be the place she became a shadow.

---

Then she heard it.

**A breath.**

Not hers.

Not imagined.

Real.

She didn't move. Just tilted her head slightly.

Behind her, somewhere in the bleachers, a figure shifted.

A shoe scraped the floor. Slow. Deliberate.

She didn't turn around yet. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pressed record on her phone. Tucked it into her sleeve. Seamless.

"You always liked dramatic places," came a voice. Male. Calm. Clean like ice.

Her spine stiffened.

"You used to be more careful," she replied without flinching.

"I still am," he said. "You're the one leaving envelopes like it's some sort of theatre."

She finally turned.

**Jonathan Reiss stood in the shadows.**

Dressed in black, hands in his coat, face half-lit by a dying light overhead.

He looked exactly the same — only colder.

Time hadn't softened him.

It had sharpened him.

---

"I wondered when you'd crawl back," Elara said.

He tilted his head, amused. "You've been busy, Elara. Clever. Loud in your own silent way."

"What do you want?"

He walked down the bleachers slowly, his shoes ticking on the metal with a rhythm that reminded her of a countdown.

"I came to see if you still had your nerve," he said. "To remind you that you're not the only one with unfinished business."

"You watched me drown," she said flatly.

He smiled, small and cruel. "And you're still here. Look at you. Resurrected."

> Her fingers twitched.

> But she didn't react.

"You think this is a game," she said. "But I don't leave victims behind. I leave evidence."

He stopped a few feet from her.

"And what happens when someone leaves evidence on *you*?"

Silence.

A beat.

Then he leaned in.

Whispered:

> "They'll see what you've done soon. Even your pet Hale. You think he wouldn't recognize the monster you've become?"

---

That name.

Rowan.

He had said it like a threat. Like a crack in her armor.

But Elara's eyes stayed level.

"You were always afraid of women who didn't need saving," she said softly. "Still are."

He chuckled. "Afraid? No. I just know what happens when girls like you start thinking you're gods. Eventually, you fall. It's gravity."

> She stepped forward, only slightly — just enough for him to feel the shift in air.

"I don't fall anymore," she whispered.

**"I drag people down with me."**

---

He didn't flinch.

But his smile faded.

Just for a second.

Then he walked past her.

Paused by the pool's edge.

And without looking back, he said:

> "Tick, tick, Elara. The past catches up."

Then he vanished through the side door, his footsteps swallowed by silence.

---

She stood alone again.

The pool below shimmered, still pretending to be calm.

But the water knew.

So did she.

---

**Later that night**, she sat cross-legged on her bed, hoodie up, headphones on.

She played the recording.

Every word.

Every line.

And saved it.

Labeled it:

> **REISS\_POOL\_ENCOUNTER.wav**

Then she opened her file again.

The list of names.

Beside Jonathan's, she added one new line.

> *Interference confirmed. Threat active. Next move: break the mirror he hides behind.*

Then she typed something below that.

A name she hadn't dared write before.

> **Rowan Hale.**

Not under "enemy."

Not yet.

But under:

> **Unstable Variable. Watch Closely.**

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