"You asleep, baby?"
Joan's voice sliced through my dream, pulling me out of the comfort of darkness. My eyelids were heavy as I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow.
"I was," I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. "What is it?"
"Wanna take you out. Big party."
I cracked open an eye and squinted at the clock. "Joan, it's too late."
"Oh, spare me. It's Friday night, no work tomorrow, and you seriously need to live a little."
Damn it. She wasn't wrong. But that didn't mean I was ready to get up, to throw myself into the chaos. Not after everything. Not after him.
The last time I went to a party? It ended in sirens and screaming.
Ryan's face flashed in my mind. His easy smile, the way he'd always ruffled my hair like an annoying older brother. The warmth of his hands, the way his laugh always filled the room. But the memory twisted. The music had pulsed, the laughter had been loud, and the lights had flashed. And then suddenly, the fight. The glass shattering. A flash of silver.
A knife.
I didn't see who pulled it first. Maybe Eric. Maybe someone else caught in the chaos. But I saw Ryan fall, his body crumpling to the floor as crimson spread around him. The air thickened with panic, and the sirens wailed their way into the night. And Ryan? He was gone.
I shuddered, pushing the thought away. That was over a year ago. This was different.
I exhaled, already knowing where this was going. Joan wasn't just suggesting. She had made up her mind. Resistance was useless.
Still, the idea of a crowded party, loud music, flashing lights felt suffocating. The energy of it, the people, the noise… it felt like drowning. How could I possibly pretend to have fun when I could barely find the energy to exist?
But the thought of staying in, trapped in this quiet, numbing routine? Exhausting.
"So?"
"So get your fine ass up, put on something hot, and meet me outside in twenty."
"Joan—"
"No excuses, Nia! This is the party of the year. The host is loaded, drinks are free, and trust me, you'll thank me later."
"Fine. But if this party sucks, you owe me."
Joan squealed. "You won't regret it, babe. See you in twenty!"
I sighed, throwing the blanket off. Joan always made everything sound like life or death. But part of me… part of me wondered if this could be the thing to break the monotony. To remind me what it was like to feel alive.
I stepped into the bathroom, letting the hot water from the shower wake me up. The warm spray soothed my tired muscles, and I grabbed my favorite Coconut & Vanilla body wash. The scent filled the air, grounding me as I lathered up, letting the rich foam slide over my skin. After rinsing off, I slathered on my jasmine-scented lotion, feeling the smoothness seep into my skin. A quick brush through my hair, followed by a towel to dry it, and I was ready to face the challenge.
Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of my mirror, wrapped in a towel, staring at my closet like it held the secrets of the universe.
I blinked at the girl in the mirror. Who was she? The girl I used to be? The one who could dance with abandon, laugh without fear? She felt like a stranger now. The girl in the mirror had polished her exterior—freshly painted nails, carefully applied makeup but I could see through the façade. The cracks were there, even if nobody else could see them. I wasn't sure when I started pretending it didn't hurt.
I ran a hand through my damp hair, swallowing the lump in my throat. I used to think that if I dressed the part, I could be happy again. But now, I wasn't so sure.
I zipped up my dress and gave myself one last look in the mirror. The fabric clung to me in all the right ways, but I felt anything but confident. A part of me wanted to bail but another part. Wanted to feel the excitement. I hadn't let myself live in so long.
So I shoved the doubt aside, pulled on my heels, and forced myself to move forward. If this night was going to go down in flames, I wanted to at least be the one to start the fire.
Joan better be outside, or I swear—
My phone buzzed.
Joan: You ready, Grandma?
I couldn't help but roll my eyes, despite the slight grin tugging at my lips. My fingers flew over the screen.
Me: Walking out now, menace.
With one last glance in the mirror, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped out.
The night air hit me as I left my apartment building, carrying with it the promise of something more. Something unfamiliar, but oddly exciting. As I walked toward Joan's car, I realized I was actually looking forward to this unexpected thrill. Maybe Joan was right. Maybe I did need to shake things up.
Joan pulled into the driveway of a grand mansion, and my breath caught in my throat. The sheer size of the estate was overwhelming. Tall iron gates, perfectly manicured lawns, and a circular driveway paved with smooth cobblestones. The house itself loomed ahead, an architectural masterpiece with towering stone pillars, massive glass windows reflecting the golden glow of the chandeliers inside, and string lights cascading over the yard like stars plucked from the sky.
I stepped out of the car, my heels clicking against the driveway as I took it all in. Joan, already buzzing with excitement, hooked her arm through mine and shot me a mischievous grin. "Get ready to have the time of your life," she said, her voice thick with promise.
As I stepped through the doorway, the music hit me first—the thumping bass reverberating in my chest, pulling me deeper into the crowd. The energy was undeniable—the flashing lights, the chatter, and the clinking of glasses blending into an intoxicating symphony. But all I could focus on was the door behind me—the one I had just walked through. The one that felt just like the one from that night.
My heart stuttered.
I froze. The familiar scent of perfume, sweat, and liquor thickened the air, making the room feel suffocating. The crowd seemed to move in slow motion, the laughter ringing in my ears like an echo from the past. The walls felt like they were closing in, and my chest tightened with each shallow breath.
I blinked rapidly, trying to shake it off, but the memories sliced through me, jagged and unforgiving. The music from the last party. Ryan's voice, warm and alive one second, gone the next. The shouts, the violence, the glass shattering on the floor. And then the cold, metallic scent of fear.
My breath hitched, and my fingers curled tightly around the clutch in my hand, my knuckles turning white.
The room swayed, spinning around me.
I could still hear the sirens that would haunt me forever. I could still see Ryan's face pale and lifeless. His eyes wide and empty, asking me why I couldn't save him.
"Nia, you okay?"
Joan's voice sliced through the haze, pulling me back to the present. I forced a smile, though it felt like a mask I couldn't fully put on.
"Yeah," I whispered, my voice thick with a lie. "Just… just a little dizzy."
Joan gave me a concerned look but didn't push. "If you want to leave, just say the word."
But I didn't want to leave. I couldn't.
I had to be here. I had to keep moving forward. Even if the anxiety gripped my chest and the memories threatened to swallow me whole, I couldn't let them control me anymore.
I glanced around the room, trying to steady my breath. The noise was deafening, the flashing lights disorienting, but I was still standing. I had made it this far.
Forcing my legs to move, I followed Joan deeper into the chaos. But with every step, I could feel the weight of the past clinging to me, a constant tug back into the darkness.
"Come on," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "You need a drink."
I nodded stiffly, not trusting my voice. She was right. Maybe if I drowned the memories in alcohol, they'd stay buried where they belonged.
The bar was a sleek, polished marble counter tucked in the corner, lined with endless bottles of liquor. Joan ordered without hesitation, flashing a flirtatious smile at the bartender.
"Two glasses of red," she said, her voice light, and the bartender obliged, sliding two glasses across the counter.
Joan grabbed hers effortlessly, raising it in my direction with a grin. "Cheers," she said.
I hesitated, then raised my glass, the deep red liquid swirling. The warmth of the wine spread through me, offering a welcome distraction. The tightness in my chest eased just slightly.
"Better?" Joan asked, peering at me with a raised brow.
I gave her a small nod, still gripping the glass too tightly. "Yeah," I replied, my voice softer than I intended. "It helps."
"Everything good here?" A deep, commanding voice cut through the chatter and music, drawing my attention to the man who had just appeared at the counter.
For a split second, time seemed to stretch, and the noise of the party fell away. I looked up, and his eyes locked onto mine dark, intense, and searching. He was standing too close—too close—and my pulse quickened without my permission. He studied me, as though he was measuring the very air between us.
Joan, always the social butterfly, responded quickly, her voice light and carefree. "Yeah, we're good."
I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. There was something magnetic about his presence, something that made everything else in the room fade. The dim lighting glinted off his jawline, sharp and defined. His hair, dark and Tousled, as if he had just rolled out of bed added a certain wildness to his otherwise controlled demeanor. He wore a leather jacket, but it wasn't the jacket that commanded attention. It was him.
A slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes remained locked on mine, and I could feel the weight of that stare in the pit of my stomach—a pull, a current, a force that made my body hum with anticipation.
My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. I wondered if I should say anything to break the tension, but the words didn't come. I was frozen, caught in the gravitational pull of his presence.
Finally, his voice broke the silence again, low and husky, like it was meant only for me. "You alright?" His words were soft, but there was an edge to them.
I wasn't sure if he was asking about the party or about me.
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. His gaze held me captive, searching me in ways I wasn't sure I was ready for. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to look away for just a second, trying to find my bearings.
"I'm good," I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, studying me like he was deciphering some puzzle only he could see. Then, without a word, he turned and melted back into the crowd, leaving me with nothing but the weight of his stare lingering in the air.
Joan, oblivious to the tension that had just unfolded between us, took a sip of her wine and flashed me a grin. "You sure you're good?" she teased but I had to ignore her.
I just nodded.