The village square was bustling with activity, far from asleep even at this late hour. A New Year's celebration was in full swing, adding to the constant noise and energy that kept Finnley from getting a good night's sleep in her conveniently located loft above the café.
"Thanks for the ride," Finnley said as she closed the cab door behind her trying not to slip in the leftover slush of melted snow.
Ravi rolled down the window and poked his dyed platinum blonde head out like an excited dog, "Are you sure you don't want to join us for a nightcap and watch the fireworks on the wharf?" he asked, looking disappointed when Finnley declined.
"I'm tired and I have work tomorrow. Someone has to provide caffeine to all the hungover townspeople," she joked.
Ravi frowned but didn't push her, instead reaching for her hand and planting a soft kiss on her knuckles. "Sleep well then. I'll see you for lunch tomorrow?"
"Don't have too much fun without me," Finnley teased with a suggestive wink towards Ravi's companion in the back of the cab.
Ravi just chuckled as the window rolled up and the cab drove off towards the wharf on 4th street. Finnley briefly considered suggesting they walk instead since it was only a 10-minute drive, but Ravi insisted they needed to take a cab if they wanted to make it to the wharf before midnight.
As she walks towards her loft apartment above the café, Finnley breathes in the light dew that remained in the air after the week of heavy rainfall. She looked up at the dark and daunting building, filled with furniture she couldn't remember buying and pictures of strangers on the walls. The stars glimmered above, tempting her to lay down on the cobblestone street and gaze at them until the sky filled with fireworks at midnight.
But the dull growing ache of a headache reminded her that she needed water and perhaps some food. Finnley made her way up the stairs to her apartment. She couldn't resist heating up some leftover curry in the fridge to accompany the eight glasses of whiskey she had already consumed that night.
With one last look towards the bright stars in the night sky, she couldn’t help but think that maybe next year she would finally make it to the wharf to see the fireworks from someplace other than her loft window.
As she gazes up at the stars twinkling in the dark sky, she begins her journey down the alleyway towards the steep steps leading to her loft. She has no recollection of moving into this place; her name was already on the lease when she woke up in the hospital. Ravi had explained that she had lived here for five years, and kind Miss Gilben, her boss and owner of the cafe and building, had given her a great deal. It was strange waking up to a life she didn't remember, but it wasn't until Ravi brought her inside that she truly felt alone. The emptiness of the loft filled her with sadness. Despite living there for five years, it looked like no one inhabited it full-time. Nothing inside held any significance or sparked any memories or emotions. It didn't feel like her home at all. Not the colorful clothes neatly folded in the drawers or the books displayed on the shelf. She felt as empty as the space around her, with its bare walls and beige color scheme. That night, she cried while staring at a photo of two strangers on her dresser.
Her goal was to make this loft feel like her home, even though she couldn't remember anything about it. So she put on clothes that clashed with her hair and snuggled under scratchy blankets, convincing herself that everything would be fine.But it wasn't fine. Every day felt like an eternity and eventually, even the tears stopped coming. She had become numb to everything, and that was okay with her because feeling nothing was better than feeling everything.
On the third-to-last step, she pauses and notices that the door is slightly ajar. Maybe she forgot to lock it when she left earlier? No, she definitely locked it - it can only be unlocked from the outside with a key. It took her and Ravi a whole day to figure out how to replace the last door after it was broken in. She still doesn't have her phone; it's probably somewhere in the bathroom at the bar, or in the pocket of a stranger who picked it up along the way.
I should have moved when I had the chance last month, she scolds herself. It would have been the smart thing to do, but she never thought this would happen again. Who would have guessed it would happen twice in less than six months? The whiskey from earlier churns in her stomach as she places her hand on the wooden door.
Maybe she accidentally left the door unlocked, maybe Ravi was rushing her and she threw some glitter on her face and rushed out the door without a thought.. But that little voice in her head reminds her that she won't know unless she goes inside. She debates going back down the stairs and dealing with this in the morning, or going back to the celebration and asking to use someone's phone. She could call the police or take a cab to Ravi's place and deal with everything in the new year. It would only be a ten-minute walk, but with her limp, it might take twenty minutes. With a sigh, she looks down at her ankle and recalculates - it will definitely take twenty minutes now. Whatever she decides, one thing is for sure- she can’t stand out here all night…well, she could but she shouldn’t.
Furious with herself, she bursts through the door with a forceful shove. The loft is just as chaotic and disheveled as when she left hours ago - dishes piled high in the sink, laundry strewn across the floor. Ravi's glitter makeup taunts her from its spot on the vanity, while the bed remains unmade with a crumpled, stained white duvet at the foot. Her floral robe lay discarded on the bathroom floor. But what grabs her attention is the open drawer of her bedside table.
As she cautiously approaches, her footsteps echo loudly against the hardwood floors. She fumbles for the light switch on the lamp and as it flickers on, she drops to her knees to search through the back of the drawer. Bottles of pills, pens, and other unmentionable items fill the space - but nothing else.
"It seems your dear Ravi forgot his sworn duty to ensure your safety," a deep chuckle echoes through the room. "He must have been distracted by the big blue eyes on that very large male.."
Her heart races in her chest as she turns towards the source of the voice. It's him - the man from the bar with curly hair and leather jacket. He sits confidently in her home, as if she was intruding on his territory.
She knows she should run, call for help, but something holds her back this time. The realization that maybe things could have been different if she hadn't run before- if she had tried. At the time she didn’t really have anything to try for, and this time she had less.
Her mind screams at her to flee, but her body refuses to move as she meets his gaze and calmly says, "I always ask my guests to take their shoes off at the door."
A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth as he stands up from his chair. "Do you know who I am?" he asks in his husky voice. Her legs tremble with fear and pain, begging her to run like she did before. But this time, she stays put, making eye contact with him as if inviting him in.
She knows she should make a run for the door, down the cobblestone streets to Ravi's place for help. But she also knows that he could easily catch her with his fit and towering figure. And maybe, just maybe, she's tired of running. Or perhaps the fear that was deep within her couldn’t be felt, maybe the numbness wouldn't allow it, and wouldn't allow any sensible reaction to tear its way to her limbs because she had listened to the voice the last time. She had ran, and if she hadn’t ran maybe her life would be better.
Maybe she had fallen on her way home, had one too many drinks, hit her head. Maybe she was dead, maybe this was her hell. Coming home to find a stranger in her apartment over and over again. Maybe after it happens once you become numb to it happening again. Maybe there’s no safe place, maybe I’m not meant to be safe, she thinks.
“How did you get in?” The words shoot out of her like bullets, the fear and anger bubbling inside her as she stares at the stranger standing in her apartment. She can't help but notice that the lock is still intact, making his presence even more unsettling.
He tilts his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he casually admits to picking the lock. Her heart races as she realizes how vulnerable she is and she asks again, “Do you know who I am?”
As he takes a step closer, her body instinctively moves back towards the kitchen. She remembers the knife sitting on the counter from breakfast, still coated with dried peanut butter.
He tracks her movements with his eyes, gun still hanging loosely by his side. “I don’t want to scare you.” His words have no weight behind them, just empty reassurance.
She can't help but let out a laugh, but it's not one of amusement. It's a hysterical sound that fills the loft, echoing off the walls. “Says the man who broke into my fucking apartment.”
His calm demeanor only infuriates her more, “Why do you have a gun?” He lifts it up with disgust, inspecting it before turning those cold eyes back on her.
“For this exact reason!” Her voice reaches an unbearable pitch as she fights back tears. Memories flood her mind of past break-ins and invasions of privacy. “For when psychos like you break into my home! Believe it or not, this isn't my first time dealing with this!”
But he doesn't seem fazed by her outburst. In fact, it only seems to fuel him as he takes another step forward. Panic sets in as she considers grabbing for the knife on the counter, but she knows it could very well end up being her own downfall.
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“Stop! Do not move!” She tries to sound confident, but she knows it's a flimsy threat.
As if reading her thoughts, he smirks and replies, “I think you and I both know there’s no one who can hear you scream.” His words send shivers down her spine.
He takes another step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. She sees flecks of gold and brown in his irises, a strange familiarity that sends chills through her body. Her fingers graze the blade on the counter, but hesitation stops her from picking it up.
In that moment, staring into his eyes, she feels like she's been here before. That sense of deja vu pumaling into her gut. “How do you know me?” she asks, desperate for answers.
“I've been searching for you for a long time, Finnley.” His whisper is filled with longing and a sense of familiarity that she can't quite place. “Try to remember me.”
And just like that, a flood escapes from beneath the door she is trapped behind in her mind. But nothing of consequence spills out. Just those eyes, just his mouth saying her name again. Memories that aren’t hers, but they belong to her. The same way she had tried all of her favorite foods once more, like trying them for the first time but knowing that her body had experienced them before. She winces as she grabs the knife, cutting her finger in the process.
“You were in the pub,” she lifts her chin knowing it's not the answer he is looking for.
He grunts in response, a heavy breath hanging between them. “I was in the pub, but where else?”
Her mind races as she tries to recall more details about him, but everything is still just out of reach. “Get out of my apartment,” she demands, raising the knife to his throat.
But he doesn't back down. He looks almost amused by her sudden show of strength. “Have you seen me before?”
She knows the answer is yes, and she can feel it in her bones. But before she can say anything, he leans in closer and whispers, “You know I have.”
His eyes do not waiver from her tear-filled ones as he raises the gun, and tosses it onto the bed with a bounce, “Filthy weapons.”
He takes another step forward and she takes one back, towards the counter of dirty dishes. Their movements match one another, step for step.
When her back bumps into the counter, he’s close enough that she can see the flecks of gold and brown that weave themselves throughout his eyes. Her fingers slide along a blade, and just like she had the time before, she hesitates.
As she looks into those eyes, she feels that tug once more. Like those eyes had stared into hers and made a home there before, like those eyes knew her. Like this is not the first or second time they have studied her face, but the millionth, so she asks, “How do you know me?”
He raises a thick brow in return, “Have you seen me before?”
She had. She knew without a doubt that she had taken in his face before, that her eyes had met his.
He doesn’t flinch as she quickly raises the small kitchen knife to his throat, holding it beneath his chin.“Nice blade.” The humor in his voice does not escape her, as though he’s expecting her to laugh at his joke. And when he raises a thick brow, she knows she’s missing the punchline, knows whatever joke he is chuckling about is lost somewhere within her own mind. “I happen to love peanut butter.”
She digs the blade deeper into his skin, relishing in the way his skin bends beneath it but no matter how hard she attempts to apply pressure, he simply stares down at her. She wants to prove to him that she is no longer a helpless victim. That she is capable of defending herself, even if it means piercing through his jugular. “I told you to get out of my apart-” Her words are cut off as he grabs her hand with intense force, causing the blade to clatter to the ground with a loud noise that echoes through the apartment. Every muscle in her body tenses up as she braces for what comes next. “I am not here to play games with you Finnley!” His ferocious growl leaves her frozen, her heart pounding so hard she can barely hear anything else. Is it fear or excitement that consumes her? Is it the threat to her life or something deeper, something primal that recognizes him and responds accordingly? Without hesitation, she uses his momentary anger as an opportunity to dive towards the bed, where the discarded gun lies waiting. Her hand connects with cold metal and she lets out a scream of triumph before turning to face him.
But her victory is short-lived as her feet tangle beneath her and she crashes onto the bed, pain shooting through her left leg as she gasps for air. “Don't come near me!” She points the gun directly at him, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. He stands there calmly, unfazed by her trembling hands and shallow breaths.
“Put it down.” He commands, making no move towards her. She feels a surge of embarrassment as he remains composed while she's a mess of nerves and adrenaline.
"Get the fuck out!" She screams, desperation and anger lacing every word. He lets out a deep sigh, his entire upper body moving with it.
"You remember me, don't you? I saw it when you looked at me." Her fingers tighten around the gun, her knuckles turning white with the pressure. "What was the last thing you remembered before waking up in the hospital?" Her mind races, trying to recall any memories before the blinding light and searing pain that consumed her. But nothing comes to mind except for the hospital. The overwhelming white light. The burning sensation coursing through her body, like flames devouring her from within. She couldn't escape it no matter how hard she tried, every breath just fueling the inferno within her. And then there was him. The man who stood before her now, calm and collected despite her frantic state. How did he know about the hospital? How did he know about the fire that raged inside of her? She blinks, struggling to process his words as fear and confusion twist inside of her. But she knows one thing for sure – she will do whatever it takes to protect herself, even if it means pulling the trigger on this unknown man who seems to know more about her than she does herself.
The blood that dripped down her frozen fingertips as the nurses tried to get the screaming to stop, the blood coating her scalp as she tried to claw her own hair out. The tattoo, raised and red and itchy. Fresh. Right on top of where the flames danced beneath her skin. “I won’t say it again, if you don’t get out, I will put a bullet through your head!”
Despite the gun pointed at her, the man advances towards her instead of the door. His black leather boots thud against the hardwood floors as he steps closer, a glint of malice in his honey-colored eyes.
“It would be difficult to do without bullets.” The little silver bullets fall to the ground by his feet. They jump and slide across the hardwoods, and when she squeezes her finger on the trigger, the gun makes a clicking sound.
Empty.
“You remember nothing before the hospital?” His hand tightens around her wrist, wrenching the gun from her grasp. The metal hits the ground with a deafening clang, sending a shiver down her spine as his large hands grip her arms tightly.
Shaking her head in response to his question, she can feel her hands trembling even more as his intense gaze scans her face.
"Absolutely nothing?" His voice is laced with disbelief as he shakes her roughly, leaving bruises in his wake. "Nothing before the hospital?"
An eerie smile curves across his face, a glimpse of white teeth peaking over his plump lips. “Your plan really did work.”
“What?” He lets go of her arms, a hand pausing gently at her rib's barely touching as they return to his side, that smile still across his face.
“How do you know me?” Her question comes out in a tremble.
Because he does. Without a doubt, he knows Finnley - the girl she used to be - and she doesn't know if it’s horror or excitement that courses through her at the revelation.
His honey eyes rank over her body slowly, from head to toe taking in the party dress Ravi forced her to wear, and the glitter that covers the majority of her skin, the scarring on her leg and the length of her hair. He breathes her in for a long moment before his eyes land on hers, and every hair on her body stands on end. “Well, despite the absent memories, the time has come for me to keep my promise to you.” He turns his back to her, glancing around at the items that decorate the apartment. “Now Sparkly,” He chuckles at the nickname, “A long time ago I made you a very important oath, and now it's time for me to fulfill it. I am paying my dues and to collect what is owed. It’s time for you to come home.”
It sounds like the ravings of a madman, but when he turns away from her and starts searching through the items in her apartment, Finnley knows exactly what he's looking for.
"The box," he growls, his darkening eyes scanning the room. "I can feel it. I know it's here."
Her heart stops as she realizes what box he means - the one she has been keeping hidden in her dresser. Before she can stop herself, her eyes flicker towards the white piece of furniture at the foot of her bed.
He rips open drawers and finally pauses at a picture of Lydia and Frank on top of the dresser. "Who are they?" He demands, jerking his head towards the photo.
"My parents." Finnley chokes out, feeling like she's caught in some kind of fever dream.
"They don't even look like you," he scoffs, moving on to the last drawer where he knows he will find the box hidden under a pile of clothes.
"Did you follow me home?" She asks, trying to make sense of the situation.
He frowns at her question. "No, Sparkly. I've been waiting in that chair for at least a quarter of an hour."
She swallows hard. "Then how do you know where I live?"
His gaze hardens as he meets her eyes. "I've been keeping an eye on you."
The small ceramic black box adorned with glittering stars and little blue waves had been sitting in the drawer since she returned home from the hospital. It was one of the few things that survived the accident that almost took her life. She could never understand why it was found next to her broken body, among the scraps of metal from her car.
The dimly lit rooms fills with a gust of bright light, and both their heads snap towards the window as the first, giant silver fireworks lights the sky.
She watches the man as he watches out the window, staring up at the fireworks that take over the night sky.
“How do you know about that?” He blinks at her question before running a hand across the box's smooth surface. Gazing at the box like a long-lost friend, his accent grows thick beneath his words. “It’s mine.”
She watches him intently as the lid to the box practically pops open at the sound of his voice. She had never been able to get it to open. She had tried more times then she would like to count. She had even contemplated taking a hammer to the thing but no matter how many times she threw it against the loft wall, no scratch ever appeared and she was never able to pry the top off.
“What the hell are you doing here?” The voice fills the quiet apartment, and Ravi shatters the bubble of emotion Finnley had found herself in, and like an invisible thread pulls her, she lunges towards Ravi seeking the safety of her friend from the stranger in the room. Ravi grabs for her hand as she makes her way across the carpets, her face tear stained but before he can examine her, his attention returns to the uninvited man. Ravi growls out, "Answer me Abilenne!" Finnley realizes that this man is not a stranger to Ravi, only to her.
Before Finnley can question either of them the small box starts to rattle on the dresser, and all three hide their faces as a blinding white light fills the darkness, and shines out the windows of the little apartment onto the midnight cobblestones.