"I remember the killing.
I remember the silence.
But I remember her,
more."

Nathan's POV

My princess fell asleep, but I couldn't.

Something uneasy kept knocking at the back of my skull, so persistent, like a thread I was missing, the memory begging me to unpause it, allow it to flow till the end.

Without meaning to, I felt my thoughts slip back there, dragged under like a needle finding its groove again, like something unseen was pulling me toward it.

FLASHBACK CONTINUING

Nathan
Eleven years old

Blood was everywhere.

On my shoes, on my hands, on my shirt, on...my pants.

Too much of it.

It didn't look real anymore, like dark red paint. Kids my age get paint on their clothes, not blood, right?

I backed away, step after step, until my back hit the table. It knocked into me, hard enough to make me flinch, like it was trying to stop me from leaving. I had to...run. I had to leave before anyone came, before anyone saw, before anyone realized what I'd done.

I turned around, my eyes landing on the man's jacket he'd thrown off earlier.

I grabbed it and pulled it on. It swallowed me whole, too big, the sleeves hanging past my hands, the fabric brushing down my thighs. That's what I needed. I buttoned it up with shaking fingers, clumsy, hiding the mess of me underneath.

I shoved my hand into the pocket and found a napkin. I tried to clean my hands, scrubbed at them hard, but the red stayed...dried in some places, darker now, stuck in the lines of my skin.

I didn't care.

I didn't have time to care.

I turned toward the door and slipped out.

The hallway stretched too long and too narrow, the air colder than inside. There were stairs leading up. I took them two at a time, my legs shaking, every step sending pain shooting through me, but I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

I pushed through the next door, and another room came into view, thankfully empty. I kept moving, faster now, like if I slowed down, something would catch up to me, grab me, drag me back.

I reached the main door, opened it, and slipped outside into the world.

Cold air hit me all at once, slapping against my face, cutting through the sweat and the blood and everything else.

The sun was out, right above me, bright in the blue sky, but it didn't feel warm.

I squinted, my eyes stinging as I tried to adjust, everything too sharp, too blurry at the same time.

I looked left, then right, but nothing made sense. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know how to get home.

It didn't matter...all I needed was to be far away from here.

So, I ran.

I sprinted off with every power left in me, ignoring the pain, ignoring the dizziness, the heaviness over my chest, I just ran, and ran, and...ran, slipping through foreign streets, past foreign people, building as much distance as possible between me and what I left there. More distance.

More, more, more...

People moved around me, shapes, voices, footsteps I couldn't fully hear, like I was underwater and they weren't.

No one stopped me.

No one looked close enough to care.

No one knew what I did.

I killed...someone.

I could kill someone?

I was too wrapped up in my head that my body crashed into something...or someone, knocking them enough to make them stumble. Papers slipped from their hands, scattering across the ground.

They said something. I think.

I didn't look at them. I didn't stop.

My feet hit the ground too fast, unevenly, and my body started to lag behind what I was forcing it to do. My chest tightened, folding in on itself. I tried to pull in air, but it didn't come.

The pain in my lung flared...I couldn't breathe. I staggered toward the nearest wall, my hand slamming against it to keep myself upright. I leaned into it, my head dropping forward, my chest heaving, trying to drag air in.

There were a few steps beside me, and I sank onto them, my legs giving out. I sat there, my body bent forward, my hands braced against my knees.

I blinked through the hazziness, and the first thing I saw was a pair of shoes pausing across from me, the same shoes I crashed into just a bit ago.

Before I could lift my head up, the owner crouched down, across from me, "Hey, are you okay?"

I blinked, looking up at the woman. She tilted her head, lines tightened across her forehead as she took more of me in, probably my pale face, my bruises if I have any, blood if it was still there.

My throat burned, and I shook my head. I was far from okay.

She looked around, then back at me, something like worry settling in her eyes, mixed with confusion. "Did...did someone hurt you? Where are your parents?"

Where are my parents, really?

My lips parted to speak, but I stopped myself, my instincts, those that made me want to survive this hell, the fear of what I just did stopped me...I had to lie. I must lie. I couldn't tell anyone about what happened.

"I..." I swallowed hard, my throat tightening, "I ran away from home, and I can't...find my way back."

Her brows pulled closer, her concern deepening, "Oh...your parents must be so worried." She shifted, the papers in her hands slipping slightly before she caught them again, holding them tighter as she glanced around us.

"There must be a police station around here or something to help you get home..." she murmured to herself, her words and accent sounding a little different than mine.

My hand shot out before I could think, grabbing her arm, my fingers curling around it, my panic rising too fast, "No, no," I muttered, breathless, shaking my head, "Uh, my...my parents would get mad if we tell the police, I—I left home and ran away, I'll just—"

I pushed myself up, stumbling slightly as I forced myself to stand, "I will find my way back..."

Her hand curled over my arm, stopping me before I could bolt again. "Wait—wait, okay," she said quickly, her voice softer now. "Do you at least know where you live? Like...your home address or something?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I know my address," I said. "I live in West Kent...in Sevenoaks."

Her eyebrows pulled together. "Sevenoaks..." she repeated, ever so cluelessly, "Yeah, I—I have no idea where that is," she admitted.

When she caught my confused look, she gave me a quick, apologetic smile. "I'm not from here. I just know we are in the city center, I had an appointment over at—" she paused, frowning slightly, then shook her head with a low chuckle, "Why am I telling you that, huh?"

She glanced around, searching, biting her lower lip in thought, then squeezed my arm lightly.

"Come on," she said, more determined now. "Let's go ask someone who actually knows how to get you there."

She stood up and held her hand out toward me.

I stared at it for a second, then hesitantly brought mine closer. She wrapped her hand around mine and led me across the road, guiding me through passing people before stepping into a small newspaper shop.

The bell above the door chimed. I looked up at it, startled.

She walked up to the counter, where an older man with a long grey beard stood behind it, then politely asked for his assistance.

He looked between us and nodded with a small, friendly smile. "Yeah, course I can. Where d'you need to get to?"

She turned to me, nudging my hand gently, asking me to tell him my address, so I did.

The man nodded, "Ah, right, well, you're a bit out from home, lad."

He stepped out from behind the counter and pointed outside. "See just over there—past that corner shop?" he said. "There's a bus stop right there."

He glanced back at us, "You'll want to catch the number twelve, if I'm not mistaken, heading into the town center first," he continued. "From there, best thing is to grab yourself a cab, it'll take you straight home."

The woman thanked him softly, then said something else to him, and they spoke for a moment. I didn't listen. My eyes stayed fixed on the bus stop outside, my mind trying to piece things together, find a way out, a way back.

I had no money...could I sneak in without anyone noticing? Would they check?

Should I just ask for a phone and call Alastor...I memorized his number. I always remember numbers. He'd come get me.

He would, right?

But...something inside me I didn't understand at the moment told me not to do that.

Before I could think about it too much, the woman's hand curled around mine again, pulling me out of the shop. She helped me cross the road, guiding me like I might fall if she let go, then led me toward the bus station.

I didn't understand at first.

I just followed her.

She let go of my hand for a second and stepped inside, speaking to someone behind the counter...buying me a ticket.

She did that...for me?

Why was she being nice to me?

She didn't know me. She didn't know what I did. Would she still be nice if she knew?

She guided me to the waiting area, where a few people sat scattered around. "Here, sit down for a bit, okay?" she said softly.

I sat, more like dropped, my body no longer able to hold me.

She crouched down in front of me, setting the small bag she'd gotten from the shop beside her. She pulled out a pack of wet wipes, then took my hands in hers. She started wiping them, slowly, carefully, like she was trying to erase something that wouldn't go away, her brows pulling together the more she looked, like she could see through it.

Through me.

Her eyes flickered up to mine.

"Who hurt you?" she asked quietly as she lifted her hand to my face, wiping near my mouth, my chin, my neck, gentle, like she was trying not to hurt me more.

"Some...homeless man," I lied again, doing everything in me not to connect myself to that place, to him, to what I left behind. "He...hit me, that's all."

She gazed at me for a long second, "Why did you run from home? Did your...did your parents do something to you?"

I shook my head, "No, no, I just...I fought with my brother, and I left, and then, I got...lost."

She nodded her head, searching my gaze, still doubtful, like she could see right through my lie.

After she was done cleaning me up, she pulled out a water bottle and handed it to me. "Here, you must be thirsty," she muttered gently.

"I also got you some snacks..." She looked into the bag, shifting things around. "But, uh...you probably need better food," she added, glancing up, scanning the street like she was already thinking of what else she could do. "There must be a sandwich shop around here or something..."

Her words started to blur together.

I wasn't really listening to her.

Something in my chest tightened, something squeezed, ripping me from the inside out.

Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I moved.

Her words dissolved into a startled sound when I suddenly threw myself at her, my arms wrapping around her tightly, like if I didn't hold on, I'd fall apart again. Maybe...maybe she'd hug me back and make it better. I don't know.

I don't know why I did it...like something inside me reached before I could understand it, like I was starved of something kind, of something warm, something I didn't have a name for...but it felt like...a mother.

My tears broke free, spilling fast, soaking into her neck and hair, especially when she brought her arms around me, hesitant at first, her body a little stiff, like she didn't expect it...then softer, closer.

I pressed my eyes shut, my face buried into her shoulder. She smelled...safe. Warm. Familiar in a way that didn't make sense. I didn't want her to let go. I wanted her to keep hugging me.

She rubbed her hand soothingly over my back, before going to my hair, cradling my head, "Hey, hey...it's okay," She whispered softly, and that's when I heard myself, how I was crying so loudly, my body shaking in her arms.

She pulled back slightly, her hands cupping my face, "Hey, hey," She said, her eyes were glassy, so green. I never thought that color beautiful, but it was. "What happened...tell me, just tell me, I will help you, I promise," She wiped at my cheeks, then brushed my hair back from my face, "Tell me."

I shook my head, my vision blurry, feeling as if I said anything out loud, I'd become undone, broken apart without repair. I didn't want today to exist. I wanted it gone, erased.

I sniffled, trying to stop my tears, hiccuping as I dragged air into my lungs, bringing my hand up, using the back of it to scrub the wetness away.

She seemed to understand I wasn't going to speak, not really. She didn't push, didn't ask again, just stayed there, her hand gentle as she wiped the tears I missed.

"Okay, can you at least tell me your name?"

For some reason, I didn't want to tell her my other name, so I told her my real one, "Nathan," I whispered.

I didn't want to be Louis anymore. I wanted to be Nathan again. Nathan had a father; he had so many people. He had Nikolas, Natalie, and Ronald. Nathan wasn't alone...

Her lips curved slightly, her head tilting, "You have such a beautiful name," She said.

A few strands of her blonde hair slipped forward, brushing her cheek before she tucked them back, and something in my chest tightened...her hair was like Natalie's...that's it, that's who she reminded me of. Her face was soft like Natalie's, her touch warm like hers, her smell like hers...

If Natalie was here, she would've hugged me too, right? Or would she have left me in that room?

She looked at me for a long moment, like she was trying to decide something, her eyes moving over my face, like she was putting pieces together she didn't have all of.

Then she sat down next to me and pulled out her phone, calling someone.

She pressed it to her ear. "Hey...uh, no, I haven't gotten to the airport yet," she said, her voice softer now, a little distracted. "Um, actually, can you check if there's another flight later tonight?"

She waited for something, and when the answer came, she nodded her head, "You know what, that would be better, I think. Can you change my flight to that one?"

She smiled after that at whatever the person said, "Okay, you're the best, baby. Love you...yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

When she was done, she looked at me and tapped her hand lightly against my thigh, "I'll be right back, okay?" she said, already getting up. "Stay here, don't go anywhere."

I nodded my head, watched her as she went back to the station, and got another bus ticket...why?

When she walked out of the station, she glanced at me and smiled, mouthed that she'd be back, then walked around the corner. I kept looking there, waiting for her. Minutes passed, and passed, and something ugly started to creep into my chest, my shoulders sinking.

I looked down at my feet, at my dirty shoe. She wasn't coming back.

People don't come back.

They say they will.

They don't.

A few moments later, I felt someone drop next to me. I blinked the haze and looked up...at her...she was back.

I stared at her, taken aback, watching as she fixed the wrapper around a hot sandwich before she extended it toward me. "Here, eat this, you must be hungry," she muttered softly, then opened the orange juice and set it next to me.

I looked at her, still unable to understand any of this...her...her actions.

I shook my head, "I am not hungry." I felt like throwing up.

She took my hands and placed the sandwich between them, folding my fingers around it, "Even if you don't feel like it, you should eat. You're a little boy. You need food to grow up...become a big man someday."

Her lips curved just a little, something light in her tone, before her eyes narrowed slightly, a cute, stern look, "Come on, Nathan, no arguments."

I liked the sound of my name. No one called me Nathan for two years...

I gulped down and nodded my head, bringing the sandwich closer to my mouth, "Uh...thanks," I whispered.

She shook her head, her nose scrunching, "You know something? I never liked that word."

I frowned slightly, confused.

I took a small bite of the sandwich, my stomach tightening at the mere thought of having food after so long. I chewed slowly, my eyes lifting to her.

"You don't like...thanks?"

She shook her head. "No, because it makes it sound like I did something I needed to be rewarded for."

She glanced at me, "People shouldn't do things just to be thanked. If you care about someone, even if you don't know them, you just...do it. Because it's the right thing, not because you expect something back."

I stared at her, trying to understand.

I nodded after a second, "Okay, I take back my thanks," I muttered.

She chuckled, ruffled my hair like I was a dog, and waited for the bus with me.

When the bus came, I was done with my sandwich and juice, and some of my energy was restored.

We sat inside, her next to me as the bus pulled away with a low rumble. "Why don't you take off your jacket? It's warm in here," she said, glancing at me.

I tightened my grip on the hem, pulling it closer around me. "No, I am...cold still."

"Oh, okay," She muttered, then went ahead to take off her coat. Only then did I notice something...her stomach, it was...fat. I shouldn't say that, I guess. Christian told me it is offensive and rude to call people fat.

But she wasn't fat, no, not like our fat neighbor, but just her belly was big...oh.

I blinked, my head tilting slightly as it clicked. I looked back at her face, and she was already looking at me. She smiled, catching me staring.

"There is a baby in there, right?" I asked.

She nodded her head, "Yup."

I looked back at her stomach, still trying to understand the concept. Human beings are weird. How could a baby fit in there?

Does it just...sit?

What if it moves?

Does she feel it?

I looked back up at her, more confused than before. "Does it know it's in there?"

She chuckled and shrugged, "I am not so sure," She said, her hand going to the side, wincing slightly as she caressed one spot.

Then, she brought her hand toward mine, and before I could move it away, she guided it toward her stomach, pressing my palm against it. "I think it knows, feel that?"

I shook my head, then my eyes widened when something...hit my hand, like a tiny punch, from the inside. Holy mother of god. My eyes widened, and I yanked my hand back, horrified, "What's that?"

She chuckled softly and caressed my hair, "It's the baby moving and kicking."

"So weird," I mumbled lowly, narrowing my eyes at her stomach. I decided right there I wasn't going near it anytime soon.

The rest of the bus ride passed rather fast. She talked to me, asked me a few things. Then she told me to lean into her and sleep if I was tired, which I was...really tired...But I couldn't close my eyes. Not until I was home. Not until I knew it was over.

I understood we were so near when my surroundings started to look familiar again. If I go down here, I could walk back home. I was so close, finally.

I told her, and she leaned forward, asking the driver to stop at the next station. Then she asked him how to get to the airport from here, and he told her that if she just stayed on the bus, the last stop would take her straight there.

She hesitated at first.

"My house is so close," I told her, "I can walk there, I know the way." I was telling the truth, and I didn't want her to come with me and ask to see my non-existent parents.

At last, she accepted.

When the bus stopped, she helped me down, then crouched on the side of the road next to me. "You're sure you'll get home safe?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's really close," I said again, glancing down the road. It was right there. Just a little further.

She nodded slowly, then rubbed my arm, "No more running away from home, okay?" she said gently. "We parents...we kind of lose our minds when something happens to our kids."

Her lips curved a little, teasing now. "So don't give them a hard time. You look like you cause a lot of trouble."

I frowned at her, and she smiled.

I smiled back, then I stepped closer and hugged her again, tighter this time, like I wanted to remember how it felt. She hugged me back without hesitation, her arms warm around me.

I closed my eyes.

"Thank you...for helping me."

When I pulled back, I gazed down at her stomach, "He is a lucky baby," I said, wishing I had a mom too like this baby.

Her smile softened. "Not a he," she said gently. "It's a girl."

My brows pulled together. "Hm. Boys are cooler, though," I said seriously. "Make a boy next time, okay?"

She laughed, nodding along like I made perfect sense. "Okay, sure. I'll name him Nathan, too."

I smiled and nodded, "Would be awesome."

She nodded and lifted her hand in a high-five. I smacked mine against it playfully.

"Take care, okay?"

I nodded, already backing away, "Bye."

I waved my hand back as she went into the bus, watching as the doors closed and it pulled away, taking her with it.

I stood there for a second only.

Then, I turned around and ran. I ran so fast my legs almost gave out beneath me, my breath coming out sharp and uneven, my chest still hurting, but I didn't care. I kept running and running, turning right when I got close, my feet knowing the way.

The gate came into view. I pushed through it, nearly tripping, rushing toward the house like if I slowed down, it would disappear, or I would be late.

The porch light flickered on when I got close. Then, before I could knock, the door burst open.

Christian stood behind it, his eyes wide, taking me in before he shot out, "Where—where were you! I was so wo—"

I rushed forward, stumbling into him, crashing against his chest, my arms wrapping around him, the force pushing him back against the wall as I hugged him so tightly. He was still here. He didn't leave.

My eyes squeezed shut, my grip tightening, my fingers curling into his shirt. "You're here...you're here," I whispered.

"What's...what's wrong?" he asked in shock, trying to steady me, his arms coming around me.

"Please don't go...don't leave, don't leave me, don't leave," I repeated, the tears slipping past my closed lids, "I only have you, don't go. I am so sorry, I shouldn't have said that, I will not fight you anymore...I mean, only if you stop being so annoying."

I pulled back, a shaky smile breaking through my tears because he was still here.

His eyes moved wildly over my face, my clothes, the mess of me, then back to my eyes, searching, trying to understand something that didn't make sense.

He shook his head, "I am not leaving, I am not, but...but where were you? It's been four days, and I've looked everywhere for you. I kept calling Alastor, but he didn't answer...where were you? Did something happen?"

I looked around, "Is Alastor here?" I asked, wiping at my cheeks.

He shook his head, "No, should I call him again? Did someone hurt you...what happened? Tell me, I am losing my mind, I thought...I thought you died or something," He glared at me, then edged closer and punched my shoulder, "I couldn't sleep, you prick."

"Since when do you curse?" I smiled. He was worried about me, too.

"Since you came into my life," He shot out, then shook his head, "Let me call him again, and—"

I grasped his sleeve quickly and shook my head. "No, don't, just...I don't want to see anyone tonight," I said, the heavy weight of it all slipping back over me, "Is there anyone else in the house?" I asked, my eyes flickering toward the hallway behind him.

He followed my gaze, then shook his head. "Just a few of the maids," he said, confused. "Why?"

I nodded quickly. "Nothing. Let's just...go upstairs," I muttered, already turning away, my feet moving before I thought about it.

He rushed to catch up with me, still watching me like I might disappear again if he blinked. "Can I stay in your room? Just tonight?" I asked.

His brows pulled closer, and he nodded, "Yeah, of course," He said, pushing the door open and stepping aside to let me in.

I walked in, and when he closed the door, I locked it, not trusting the mere wood to keep people off.

I shrugged off the jacket, letting it fall, and the moment Christian saw the blood on my clothes, he froze, then rushed forward, his eyes widening too much.

"Are you hurt? What happened?" he asked, already reaching for me, his hands hovering like he didn't know where to touch without making it worse.

I stepped back, "No, no, it's not my blood," I said, shaking my head. Some of it was, though.

That confused him even more, "What do you mean?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching on the side, "I will...tell you later," I said, "Now, I just, I want to take a...shower and sleep, I am so tired."

His throat bobbed, his eyes still moving over my bloodied clothes, but he nodded nevertheless, "Okay...okay, uhm, I'll give you something from me to wear," He was heading for the cloest but I held his arm again, "Christian?"

He paused, "Yeah?"

I looked at the door, then back at him, "I am...I am scared. You will...you would not let anyone come in, right?"

His eyebrows pulled closer, and he shook his head, "No, why...would I?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers digging into his sleeve, holding on tighter than I meant to. "Can you stay by the door...while I take a shower?" I asked, my voice uneven. "Just...don't go anywhere. Don't go outside, okay? Just stay here."

He stared at me for so long, then nodded in assurance, "I won't go anywhere."

I nodded back, finally letting him go. He searched my face some more before he grabbed me a pair of his sweatpants and t-shirts. I slipped into the bathroom, my body still tight, still waiting for something to happen.

I turned the water on to the highest temperature. Hot, scorching hot. The heat burned against my skin, but I didn't move.

I stayed there.

Let it hit me.

Like it could wash everything off.

Like it could take it all away.

I stayed there longer than I meant to, until my skin turned red, until my breathing slowed just a little. When I dried off, I put on Christian's clothes. He was taller than me by a little, his body slightly bigger than mine, so they felt a bit oversized over me.

When I stepped back into the room, Christian was still there, right by the door, exactly where I left him.

He looked up the second I walked in and stood straight, "Do you want to eat something? I could go down and get you—" He said, but I shook my head, already walking toward the bed, my body giving in now that it knew it was safe, "I just want to sleep."

I dropped onto it, the mattress so soft beneath me. Christian sat at the edge of the bed, still watching me, looking at me all weird, his face tightening, something angry flickering there now, something protective, something sharp.

His fingers curled into the mattress.

"Who hurt you?" he asked.

I shook my head, "I don't know him," I looked at the ceiling, scared of his reaction as I added, "But I...killed him."

When he stayed silent for too long, I turned my head slowly, bracing for it, for him to pull away, for him to look at me differently.

He didn't. Instead, he nodded his head and moved closer, "Good thing you did."

See, he is my only friend.

My hand kept trembling, no matter how hard I pressed it into the bed, no matter how tightly I clenched it. I wasn't cold. I didn't know why it wouldn't stop.

Christian shifted closer, resting his back against the headboard, sitting beside me, looking ahead as he started thinking. God knows what goes on in his old man's brain.

I pulled myself up, "Christian?"

He looked at me, "Yeah?"

"Can you hug me?"

Without a word, he moved closer, one arm wrapping around my back, the other following, pulling me into him until my face pressed against his chest. He held me tightly. That woman held me like this, too.

I couldn't remember the last time someone had held me like that before today. My body didn't know what to do with it, except...not let go.

"You won't go...right?" I whispered, my head sinking into him.

"No. Never," he murmured softly. "Try to sleep, okay? I'll stay awake. I won't let anyone come near you."

He did.

He stayed awake all night. I remember waking up and finding him still awake, looking after me.

It was the day we promised one another that no matter how shitty it got, we'd always be there for one another. We only had each other, after all.

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

PRESENT

It felt like it was always there, but I was just so blind to it. The memory folded in on itself, every detail shifting, clicking, sliding into place with others that never should've fit...until they did.

Dots.

So many fucking dots.

And suddenly, they weren't scattered anymore.

They were a pattern.

I shot up from the bed, trying to outrun the realization clawing up my spine. Aylin stirred beside me but didn't wake, still tangled in sleep, still untouched by the thing that had just snapped into focus inside my head.

The static noise formed a coherent note for once.

Fuck.

The gaps in her memories, I think I found them. What happened in that pool, I might have a...hunch.

"Fuck," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face, pacing once, twice, like I could wear the thought down if I moved enough.

Fuck. Fuck.

I waited for the first ray of sunlight to seep through before I left the house, got into my car, and sped off, the thoughts racing, and I tried to arrange them in the correct order to understand them better.

This...this was going to ruin her.

I parked the car hastily, the door half-open before it even stopped moving. I was already out, rushing to the door, and I banged on it, once, twice, thrice. I didn't stop, didn't care anymore.

The door tore open a couple of minutes later, "Wh—" Layla's voice broke mid-word, dissolving into a gasp when she saw me. Her eyes widened, still fogged with sleep, her hair a mess like I'd dragged her out of a dream, "What the hell is your problem! What do you want!"

I pushed her inside, slipping in, slamming the door shut behind me. Panic clawed at her expression, thinking I'd kidnap her again or something because she scrambled to run away, do something, but my hand curled over her arm, so fucking tight I felt like I'd rip it.

"What...what are you doing? Let me go—"

"Did you ever go to London?"

My words had her pausing, her brows pulling closer, "What are you talking about?"

"Were you in London?" I pressed, stepping closer, my grip tightening, "Twenty years ago. Were you there or not?"

"What are you talking ab..." Her words paused, "Wh—" Her chest rose, sharper now, uneven, her expression shifting from confusion to something else, "Yeah...yeah, I was."

My jaw ticked, "You helped a little boy get back home," I said it as a fact, not a question.

It was her. Same face, same eyes, same hair.

"I—how..." her voice dropped, barely there, her gaze flickering over me like she was trying to place me, "How...do you know that?"

"That's not the important part here," I cut in, shaking my head once.

Pieces.

They were falling into place too fast.

Too fucking fast.

"You were pregnant," I said, "It wasn't Aylin, she was already—what—three? Four?" I said, watching the fear mix with the panic, mix with...grief, so much grief it looked like it had been rotting inside her for years.

"You were pregnant, with a girl...Riley, isn't it?"

Two tears slipped free, tracing down her cheeks, her lower lip trembling before she bit down on it like she could stop everything from spilling out with pressure alone.

"You've got some explaining to do."

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

Aylin's POV

I reached for Nathan in my sleep...and found nothing.

Surprise, surprise. I let out a whiny moan. My hand pressed into the empty space beside me, fingers curling into the sheets like I could pull him back from wherever he'd disappeared to.

I groaned softly, dragging my arm back, glaring at his pillow like it personally betrayed me.

I pushed myself up slowly, a dull ache already blooming behind my eyes, spreading through my skull. I dragged myself out of bed, my feet cold against the floor, every step heavier than it should be.

I shuffled into the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and freshened up quickly. I grabbed my phone and made my way downstairs to look for this menace. I'd like, for one time, to wake up and find him next to me, just once.

I scanned the kitchen and the living room. "Nathan?" I called for him, but found him nowhere, so I checked outside, and his car wasn't in the driveway.

A small knot tightened in my chest. He usually doesn't go out without leaving me a message or a note at least.

I leaned against the door, unlocked my phone to call him, my fingers pausing on the screen when I found a...new message from that unknown number.

I huffed out...a great way to start my day.

I opened it, and it was a...location.

Just that, a pin dropped somewhere I didn't recognize.

My brows pulled together as I zoomed in, trying to make sense of it, trying to find something familiar in the map.

My fingers moved before I could think too much about it.

I sent a single message.

Me: ??

The reply came almost instantly.

Unknown number:
You want to meet me, don't you?
Come alone and let's meet...been a while.

My spine stiffened, a cold thread of tension slipping under my skin, coiling tighter with every second I stared at the words.

This was new. They'd never done this before, not so...direct.

I swallowed hard, and before I could do anything, I dialed Nathan. It rang, and rang, but the line went dead after.

My worry multiplied, and I dialed him once more. No answer, again.

Oh my god. A thousand things hit me all at once, fast and violent. Did something happen? Was he hurt?

I started pacing, my steps uneven, my breath coming shorter, sharper, like the walls were closing in on me.

I dialed him a third time, my teeth sinking into my lower lip, biting down hard enough to hurt, "Come on..." I whispered. "Pick up, pick up..."

My phone pinged again. I flinched, startled at the sound. My heart slammed against my ribs as I looked down, my fingers suddenly colder around the device.

Unknown number:
You coming or not?
I don't have all day, you know...got other errands to run. Haha, who am I kidding?
No errand is as fun as watching your life fall apart.

My jaw ticked as I opened the location again, zooming in, checking the distance. It was around a twenty-minute drive from here.

Determined, I rushed back upstairs, changed my clothes quickly, and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I slipped my phone into my jeans' pocket and was already turning to leave when my gaze caught on the nightstand.

I paused, hesitated, then walked over and pulled the lower drawer open.

As expected, my eyes fell on the gun Nathan kept in there. I swallowed hard and picked it up...just in case. It's not like I know how to use it or anything.

I shut the drawer, shoved the weight of it into my bag, and moved again. I left the house, got into my car, and drove toward the location, dialing Nathan a fourth and fifth time on the way. I was going to go mad if I didn't reach him soon. It wasn't like him to disappear on me without a trace.

When I reached the intended location, I pulled over at the side of the road, the engine cutting off. I stepped out slowly, my eyes scanning the street. Cars rushed past, and people moved like nothing was wrong. Buildings lined both sides of the road, shops open, lights on, life going on, like this was just another normal day.

It was too normal.

Too public.

Too exposed.

My brows pulled together as I checked my phone again. The pin hadn't moved; it pointed straight ahead, to the building across from me, a shop of sorts or...something similar.

I frowned, unease creeping up my spine.

This didn't make sense...none of this made sense, really.

I sucked in a breath, steadying myself, then started walking. The closer I got, the quieter everything seemed, the world fading out around the edges.

I stopped in front of the door, stared at it for a second longer than necessary, then reached out, my fingers curled around the handle.

I sucked in enough oxygen and stepped inside, the door closing behind me with a soft click that echoed louder than it should have.

I turned slowly, taking it in. It was a...gallery of sorts, a place where people displayed their arts, I guess?

White walls. Art hanging in careful arrangements, paintings and pieces displayed under soft, white lighting.

Too clean.

Too curated.

Too...empty.

My heart started beating faster as I moved forward, slipping between the walls, my eyes skimming over the paintings, searching for something, anything, that would make sense of this.

They didn't.

They were just...there.

Beautiful.

Meaningless.

My steps slowed...my feet halting to a sudden stop, jolting abruptly, like something invisible had wrapped around my ankles and yanked.

My breath hitched. My eyes lifted and froze at the wall right in front of me...not like the others, not filled with abstract colors or strangers' stories.

No.

This one...this one was mine.

My stomach dropped. Pictures, a dozen maybe, lined up, perfectly, carefully, obsessively. Pictures of me. My breath came out shallow as my eyes darted across them, trying—failing—to process what I was seeing.

They weren't posed. They were moments I didn't remember giving, moments I didn't know were being watched.

One was of me, running down the street, in the marina, my hair loose, my phone in my hand, unaware.

There, another one, me sitting in the car with Nathan, laughing at something, my head tilted back, my guard completely down.

My chest tightened, panic clawing its way up, suffocating.

How long has this been happening?

My fingers curled into my palms, nails biting into skin as I forced myself to keep looking.

My eyes landed on the very last picture and everything inside me...stopped. This one was different, so much older, faded at the edges, time had tried to erase it, but failed.

It was me, maybe six or seven years old, sitting by the edge of the pool at my grandfather's summer house.

My hair was wet, clinging to my cheeks, my shoulders, droplets catching the sunlight.

I looked...small.

Too small.

My breath trembled as my gaze shifted, because I wasn't alone in the picture, tucked against my side, under my arm was another little girl, smaller than me. Her hair was wet too, darker where the water soaked through, strands sticking to her face just like mine.

She wore a similar swimsuit.

Her smile was crooked, incomplete, a few teeth missing in that innocent, childish way that should've been endearing.

Who...who is she?

My heart slammed violently against my ribs as I took a step back, my eyes flickering over the picture again, trying...failing...to place it, to pull it from whatever broken part of my memory it was buried in—

That's when I felt it...a presence, someone close.

My head whipped to the side, my eyes falling on a...girl, my height almost, standing right next to me, facing the wall, looking at the pictures too, a camera hung around her neck, resting against her chest like it was part of her, like she didn't go anywhere without it.

Her hair framed her face in soft waves, dark brown, rich, catching the faint light of the gallery. It brushed just above her shoulders, slightly tousled, like she'd run her hands through it one too many times.

She noticed me staring and turned, like my gaze had been expected, like I'd taken too long to look.

Her skin was white-pale, but warm. Freckles scattered lightly across her nose and cheeks, but her eyes were the first thing that held me.

Big.

Bright.

Too bright.

Too green.

Long lashes framing them, dark and so thick, casting shadows on her cheeks. There was something in them, something sharp beneath the softness, something that didn't quite match the rest of her.

Like she saw too much.

Like she knew too much.

She wore a brown bomber jacket, slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up just enough to show her wrists, combined with light blue jeans and brown sneakers.

Nothing about her screamed danger.

Nothing about her should've made my pulse spike the way it did.

"Hey," She said, her voice so cheerful, then she smiled and extended her hand forward, "I am Riley."

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Author's Note:

I hope you liked the double update ;)

So, what do you think? Drop down your thoughts and theories.
Told ya, it's downhill from here on xD

See ya next week 🌘🐺