Chapter 6 – Control
628 Words
“They’re dead.”
Nia’s voice was steady.
Cold.
She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the sleeve of her blazer, her reflection staring right back at her—perfect, composed, untouched.
“They don’t matter anymore.”
A pause.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
“Their words don’t matter anymore.”
Silence.
For a second… it almost sounded true.
Her phone buzzed on the dresser.
Nia glanced at it, frowning slightly at the unfamiliar name.
Then her eyes narrowed.
Recognition.
Slow.
Unwelcome.
Ava Reynolds.
A faint scoff left her lips.
“Of course.”
A message preview sat on the screen:
“Hey… it’s been a while. I heard about you. Thought I’d reach out.”
Nia stared at it longer than she needed to.
Memories didn’t come rushing this time.
They slipped in quietly.
Controlled.
Flashback – School
“Careful,” Ava’s voice rang out lightly, just loud enough for others to hear. “She might disappear if you turn your back. Wouldn’t be the first time someone left her.”
Laughter followed.
Soft. Sharp. Deliberate.
Nia had been standing right there.
Books in hand. Eyes forward.
Pretending it didn’t touch her.
“Must be tough,” Ava added, leaning casually against a desk. “Not even knowing where you came from.”
That one had lingered.
Present
Nia picked up her phone.
Her expression didn’t change.
Didn’t need to.
“What do you want?” she typed.
No greeting.
No warmth.
Just straight to the point.
The reply came faster than expected.
“Wow. Straight to business. Still the same, huh?”
Nia’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“Say what you need to say.”
A pause this time.
Then—
“Relax. I just thought we could catch up. You’ve done… well for yourself.”
Nia let out a quiet breath.
There it was.
Recognition.
Interest.
Maybe even a hint of admiration.
Funny how things changed.
“People change,” Ava added. “We’re not kids anymore.”
Nia stared at that message.
For a long moment.
Then typed—
“Clearly.”
She didn’t block her.
Didn’t ignore her either.
She just… left it there.
Unfinished.
Because part of her wanted to see it.
To face it.
To prove something.
Even if she didn’t say it out loud.
That she wasn’t that girl anymore.
That night, the house was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Nia stepped inside, heels clicking softly against the floor as she shrugged off her coat.
No voices.
No movement.
Just space.
Her hand moved instinctively.
Not to her phone.
Not to her bag.
To the cabinet.
She opened it without hesitation.
A bottle sat inside.
Untouched.
Until now.
Nia poured a glass.
No ice.
No pause.
The first sip burned slightly.
Familiar.
Not unpleasant.
She leaned back against the counter, exhaling slowly as the tension in her shoulders eased—just a little.
Just enough.
One glass became two.
Two became—
She didn’t count.
The thoughts didn’t disappear.
But they softened.
Blurred at the edges.
Lost their sharpness.
You don’t belong.
The voice came again.
Fainter this time.
Distant.
Nia let out a quiet laugh under her breath.
“Doesn’t matter.”
She took another sip.
Longer this time.
By the time she made it to her room, her steps weren’t as steady.
Her thoughts weren’t as clear.
But her expression?
Still composed.
Still controlled.
She dropped onto the bed without changing, staring up at the ceiling again.
Same ceiling.
Different feeling.
“Doesn’t matter…” she repeated softly.
But deep down—
Somewhere beneath the alcohol, beneath the control, beneath the image she showed the world—
It did.
It always did.
And the more she tried to bury it…
The louder it threatened to become.
- Writer
