Daniel almost threw his radio out of the window when it announced the morning news, eighteen days since he’d first met Lizzie:
“The police have arrested a man on suspicion of murder of Elizabeth Holmes…”
“Christ!” Daniel muttered. “They got ‘im!”
It was not to be; twelve hours later the headline had changed:
“...was released without charge. The police have launched an appeal for information from anybody in the area on the night of 18 May. Unconfirmed reports have surfaced that CCTV captured footage of a person leaping from the window of Lizzie’s flat…”
The window? Daniel thought as he brushed his teeth and picked out an outfit neither too casual nor dressed-up. Yeah, right. Probably some hoax. The last report said that she lived on the eighth floor. He pulled out his journal from underneath his pillow and opened it up, flipping through the pages with an analytical eye.
Funny, he thought, how I sleep so badly in my bed and so well in my bathtub. Why is that? He flipped to the most recent entries and read them backwards. I haven’t said anything about wanting to die in three days. That’s nice.
~~~
“I moved away,” Lizzie said. “Not far, but closer to another school. After that end-of-year-dance.” The two of them were sat on the beach, Lizzie now wearing a hoodie Daniel had brought with him to ward off the cold. The moon was waning once more, with barely a sliver of it in the sky.
“That’s why I didn’t remember you till the other day,” Daniel mused. “I’d wondered where you’d gone for a bit. But then I got busy with school and forgot. Kids have weird priorities.”
“What about your family?” She asked. “You mentioned a sister, right?”
To this, a long-familiar pit of dread opened up in his stomach. Lizzie noticed Daniel’s expression darken. “Oh-” she said, “Sorry! You don’t have to talk about it!”
“No, no,” Daniel muttered, waving away her apologies. “S’fine. Gimme a sec.” He shoved the feeling to one side with ease. Piss off, brain, he thought. It’s like you’re not even trying to hurt me. “My parents died a while back,” he said, the words quieter than usual. “Not long after I finished school. Dad had a heart attack. Mum died in her sleep a year later.”
Lizzie looked down. “Oh. That’s… that’s really sad.”
“Heh. Yeah,” he replied. “Got a flat out of it, at least. Not many people ‘round here own their places anymore. But, uh, yeah. Been on my own since.”
“Is your sister…” Lizzie began.
“Abroad. Fucked off after Mum died. Couldn’t stand to live within a few thousand miles of this place.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. She’s happy. We’re not close - haven’t spoken in years. Doesn’t bother me, though.”
“Don’t you get lonely?” Lizzie asked.
Daniel opened his mouth to say some noncommittal response; before he could stop himself, the truth poured out of him as he said, “All the time.”
Lizzie said nothing; all of a sudden, Daniel felt himself being pulled into a hug, his face pressed into her shoulder as she squeezed him tight. She smelt of seawater and some other scent he couldn’t quite place. Daniel felt himself relax, just a little, and then all of a sudden he was crying, silent tears spilling down his face. Lizzie held on until long after the tears had stopped.
“Thanks,” he muttered, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” she replied. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Sure feels like I have.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s a stupid feeling. Tell it to go away.”
He left out a bark of laughter. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
Lizzie smiled as she drew back from the embrace. “Nope!”
There was a moment of silence as her smile widened. Daniel saw the way it flowed up towards her eyes, causing them to sparkle like the sea on a bright summer’s day. He caught her gaze then forgot how to breathe; he felt a sudden manic impulse to lean forwards: to close the gap between them, tuck her barely-tamed hair behind one ear with a gentle hand then-
She jumped as if shocked by a jellyfish. “Oh!” She squeaked. “I remembered something!”
Daniel let out his breath in a jagged exhale. That’s- I- no way. Warmth rose out of his heart, carried by geothermal currents spread up to his face. She’s- I like her. Oh. I really like her.
“There… I think there was someone,” she mused. “Not long before I went missing. I dated him?” Daniel’s blood ran cold. Oh.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Lizzie, in that cheery way Daniel had become accustomed to, added, “Can’t have been important if I don’t remember him! Oh well!” She giggled as she stuck her foot into the sand, causing puffs of gold to rise into the air.
She remembered me, Daniel thought, but not whoever this guy was. Ugh. I shouldn’t be happy about that. And yet… the warmth inside him intensified like water reaching a rolling boil. It makes me happy. Talking to her makes me happy. Damn. Being this honest with myself feels fucking great.
~~~
The next day, and for the first time in months, Daniel stepped onto a bus and stepped off in a town twenty miles south. She lived here, he thought. When she went missing. The town was much like the one he’d left. Pensioners meandered the streets and sat in run-down cafes having their Sunday brunch. As he walked around, he spotted the occasional poster containing Lizzie’s face and information on who to contact if they knew anything. They’d never believe me, he thought. But maybe… if I found something? Evidence? Clues? The police could use that.
He wandered up and down quiet roads until he reached a street name he recognised. Here, he thought. She lived around here.
He stuttered to a halt as he glanced up at a random building. A window eight floors up had caught his eye; its pale-blue frame was weathered and old, and it was closed firmly shut. But as he stared up at it, something shifted. For the briefest of seconds, he could have sworn he saw water pouring out of it, straight through the glass-
“You alright, son?”
Daniel jumped and turned; an elderly man with a cane was watching him.
“Oh,” he replied. “Yeah. Sorry. I- I recognised the window. From the news.”
The man nodded understanding. “Terrible thing, that,” the elderly man replied. “Bloody useless detective on that case. Can’t even find the poor woman, let alone the bastard that did it.”
Daniel nodded in agreement. The man took a seat on a nearby bench; Daniel sat next to him. “Is that normal?” Daniel said. “For them not to find anything?”
“Town isn’t big.” That statement was answer enough.
“So someone knows and isn’t telling,” he muttered. Like me. Fucking hell. I know where she is and I’ve not told anybody. But… his thoughts trailed off for a moment. She doesn’t want me to. I’d not betray her trust like that.
“Tell you what,” the man said, leaning in conspiratorially. “You seem like someone who’d listen to an old man. Humour me?”
“Sure,” Daniel replied.
“When I was a young lad,” the man whispered, “Someone else went missing much the same way. Police never found her.” A hush fell over the street.
“I remember it well,” the man continued. “Was nighttime, you see. I was on a walk. My eyesight was bad even then. Everyone thought I’d had too much to drink. But ya know… I could have sworn I saw someone run past me towards the beach, carrying a wee girl covered in blood. ‘Twas her. I’m certain of it.”
Daniel stared at the man, open-mouthed. “For real?” He asked. “Did you see anything else?”
“‘Fraid not, lad. Was only for a second or five. But you know what I think?”
“What?”
“I don’t think she was murdered.” The man’s eyes took on a faraway quality as he continued, “I think whoever carried her away was saving her.”
Daniel blinked several times. “W-what was her name?” He forced out.
“Freya. Look her up. 1956. June 12. I never could forget that date…”
“Why- You don't know me. Why tell me?”
The man’s eyes pierced Daniel’s soul with their intensity as he mused, “My eyes can’t see much of anything anymore. But I saw enough. You looked at that window the same way I looked at that wee girl in a stranger’s arms.”
With that the man was gone, stood from the bench then shuffling down the street with barely a wave goodbye.
I didn’t even get your name, Daniel thought. Yet he didn’t call after him. Freya. June 12, 1956…Oh! I know!
Daniel pulled up his phone map then typed in a search query.
~~~
Freya Marie, the article said. Daniel was sat at a computer in the town’s library. Information flowed out of the article into his mind: 1956. Eleven years old. June 12. Missing. Window to her bedroom was left wide open. Father was arrested then released without charge. A search of the father’s name found an obituary from three months later. Cause of death: drowned. Heart attack in his bathtub. Tragedy for the town.
Fucking hell, Daniel thought, as he felt the first pieces of the puzzle fall into place in his mind. So who carried Freya to the beach? And what does that mean for Lizzie?
He stayed on the computer for another hour, filling up his browser history with search terms on mythology and humans who could breathe underwater and missing persons who lived by the sea. He found nothing of note: everything either lacked detail or didn’t resemble Lizzie at all.
~~~
That night, Daniel didn’t go to the beach; exhaustion lapped at his mind the second he stepped off the bus. He climbed into his bathtub then drifted off to sleep.
He opened his eyes standing in a bathroom he didn’t recognise. He looked around; the tiles were white, with a matching door closed firmly shut. In one corner stood a bathtub filled to the brim with water and soap suds.
He heard movement from another room, followed by the creak of wood and a muttered curse. Daniel took a step towards the door, then jumped back and gasped as water from the bathtub was suddenly splashed everywhere. A woman emerged from it, pulling herself out with clumsy movements and scattering more water across the room. Daniel, to his horror, noticed that the water was tinged red.
The woman stood upright, swaying a little from side to side as if she was unsure quite how to walk. She was clothed in a simple green dress. Barefoot, Daniel noted.
"Lizzie?" She called out with accented syllables. There was no response. “Lizzie?” She stumbled across the room and fumbled with the door handle; after seconds of consternation, she leaned back then burst the door open with a vicious kick. The sounds in the other room stopped.
The woman stepped into the hallway, looked to her left, and Daniel dove across the bathroom as her mouth fell open and she screamed-
Daniel woke up mid-air as his brain interpreted his dive as real; he hit the tiled floor with a loud thud. Rolling onto his back and hissing in pain, he stared at the broken lightbulb dangled from his ceiling.
"What the fuck was that?" He whispered to himself. The darkened bathroom offered no answers.