Our Usual Place
744 Words
The house was too quiet.
Not peaceful quiet.
The kind of quiet that made every creak of the floorboards sound like footsteps.
I sat on the edge of my bed, still wearing the same clothes I'd left campus in. My head hurt. My eyes burned from crying. Every time I closed them, I saw the courtyard. The library. The boots.
Him.
I buried my face in my hands and let out a slow, shaky breath.
This morning, I had left home thinking it would be another normal day.
Classes.
Lunch with Amara.
Maybe complaining about assignments on the walk back.
Instead...
Someone had tried to kill me.
I still didn't know why.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Amara.
For a second, I just stared at her name.
Then I answered.
"Hey."
"Aria! Finally." Relief filled her voice. "Where did you disappear to after school? I looked for you after class. Someone said they saw you leaving."
I swallowed.
"I... wasn't feeling too well."
"What happened?"
"Just a headache."
The lie came out easier than I expected.
"Oh no. Are you okay now?"
"Yeah."
Another lie.
She was quiet for a moment.
"You sound strange."
I forced out a tiny laugh.
"I'm just tired."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"...Okay."
Another silence.
Then she spoke again.
"Do you want me to come over?"
My eyes filled with tears before I could stop them.
"No."
"...Are you sure?"
I looked around my room.
At the walls.
At the door.
At the windows.
No.
I wasn't sure of anything anymore.
"I just..." My voice cracked. "Can we meet instead?"
"Of course," she said immediately. "Our usual place?"
"Yeah."
"I'll be there."
When the call ended, I stared at the dark screen for a long time.
I hated lying to her.
Amara had been my best friend for years.
If there was anyone I should have been able to tell...
It was her.
But how could I?
"Someone is trying to kill me."
"I can hear thoughts that aren't mine."
"The man chasing me might be my soulmate."
Even saying those words in my head sounded insane.
She wouldn't believe me.
I wasn't even sure I believed me.
⸻
The little eatery looked exactly the same as it always had.
People laughed.
Plates clinked.
A child cried because someone had taken the last meat pie.
Life went on.
Like the world hadn't completely fallen apart.
Amara smiled the moment she saw me.
"There you are."
She pulled me into a quick hug.
"You scared me."
"I'm sorry."
We ordered something small, but I barely touched it.
Amara talked like she always did.
About classes.
About a lecturer who had nearly chased someone out.
About a funny argument she'd had with her boyfriend.
Normally, I would've laughed.
Today...
Her voice sounded distant.
"...Aria?"
I blinked.
"Hm?"
"I've been talking for like two minutes."
"Oh."
"You didn't hear a single thing I said, did you?"
I looked down at my untouched food.
"No."
She leaned forward, concern replacing the smile she'd been wearing.
"What happened?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
"Aria..."
My eyes stung.
"I..." My voice trembled. "I don't know how to explain it."
That was all it took.
The tears came without permission.
Fast.
Hot.
Embarrassing.
Amara was beside me in an instant.
"Hey... hey..."
She wrapped her arms around me.
"You don't have to tell me if you can't."
I cried into her shoulder.
Not because she'd solved anything.
Not because I felt safe.
But because, for a few seconds...
I didn't have to pretend I was okay.
⸻
By the time I got home, the sky had grown darker.
I walked into my room and closed the door behind me.
The silence returned.
Waiting.
Watching.
I sat on the edge of my bed again.
My eyes drifted toward the drawer beside me.
Without thinking, I opened it.
The small silver key was exactly where I'd left it.
I picked it up.
Turned it over in my fingers.
It looked so ordinary.
Just a key.
Yet somehow...
I couldn't shake the feeling that my life had split into two parts.
The person I was...
And the person I'd become the moment this key found me.
I closed my hand around it.
Then slowly placed it back in the drawer.
Tomorrow.
Maybe tomorrow...
I'd finally find the courage to discover what it unlocked.
Because one thing had become painfully clear.
Whatever had started...
Was far from over.
- Writer
