A Familiar Stranger
1243 Words
Darkness pressed in on her from all sides.
Lizzy stood still, barefoot on cold ground she couldn’t see, couldn’t feel beyond the ache in her chest. Heavy chains wrapped around her wrists and ankles, gold but dull, digging into her skin as if they had always belonged there. No matter how much she pulled, they didn’t loosen. They only clinked softly, mockingly.
Then she saw her.
A girl stood a few feet away, bathed in a soft, pale light that didn’t come from anywhere Lizzy could name. The girl’s face made Lizzy’s breath hitch familiar, unsettling. Same sharp cheekbones. Similar eyes. Not identical, but close enough to feel wrong, like looking at a distorted reflection.
Around the girl’s neck hung a silver chain. A moon-shaped pendant rested just above her collarbone, glowing faintly.
The girl said nothing. She only watched.
Lizzy tried to speak, to demand answers, but her mouth wouldn’t open. Panic crept up her throat. She struggled harder, the chains tightening, the sound echoing in the dark.
The girl tilted her head, almost curious.
And then the light vanished.
Lizzy gasped and jerked awake.
Her eyes flew open to the familiar ceiling of her bedroom. Silk sheets twisted around her legs. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs, her chest rising and falling too fast. She clutched the fabric near her collarbone as if the chains were still there.
“Breathe,” she muttered to herself. “It’s just a dream.”
The digital clock on her nightstand read 7:45 a.m.
She lay there for a moment, staring, listening to the silence of the house. No voices. No footsteps. Just the distant hum of expensive nothingness.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Miss Lizzy?” a woman’s voice called gently. “Are you alright?”
Lizzy swallowed. “Yes,” she said, forcing steadiness into her tone. “I’m fine. You can go.”
The presence retreated immediately. They always did. In this house, affection never crossed thresholds without permission.
Lizzy exhaled slowly, pressing her palms into the mattress until the lingering fear dulled into irritation. Fear was weak. Fear was embarrassing.
She reached for her phone.
The familiar comfort of her screen lit up her face as messages poured in.
Natasha: Morning, Queen.
Shrin: Tell me you’re ready to dominate Oakwood today.
Lizzy smirked, fingers flying across the screen.
Lizzy: Always. Are you two prepared to rule, or should I lower my expectations?
Three typing bubbles appeared instantly.
Natasha: Your approval is mandatory, Your Majesty.
Shrin: Already dressed. Already dangerous.
The last of the dream slipped quietly into the back of Lizzy’s mind, buried beneath silk, diamonds, and confidence.
Breakfast arrived shortly after—silver tray, warm croissants, fruit arranged perfectly, a glass of freshly pressed juice. Lizzy ate without tasting, scrolling absently, already shifting back into herself.
Fashion came next.
She stood before her mirror, studying her reflection critically. The jumpsuit she chose was cream colored, tailored to perfection straight from her mother’s label, Mason Brooke Designs. The fabric skimmed her body effortlessly, structured yet fluid, the kind of piece people whispered about when it debuted on a runway.
A Hermès belt cinched her waist. A sleek designer bag quietly worth more than most people’s rent—rested on her arm. Gold jewelry glinted at her wrists and ears, restrained but unmistakably expensive.
Her mother never had time. But gifts always arrived on schedule.
“Good enough,” Lizzy murmured.
Downstairs, Mr. James was already waiting. He opened the back door of the car before she reached it, standing aside respectfully.
“Good morning, ma’am.”
“Morning,” Lizzy replied, sliding into the seat.
The ride to Oakwood High passed smoothly. Lizzy initiated a quick video call with Natasha and Shrin, their faces filling her screen as traffic blurred past.
“Don’t be late,” Lizzy said. “I hate repeating myself.”
“We’d never,” Natasha replied. “Meet you at the entrance.”
When the car pulled into the school grounds, heads turned immediately. Mr. James stepped out first, opening Lizzy’s door.
The whispers started before her heels touched the pavement.
“That’s Lizzy Brooke.”
“Her dad’s that big-time architect.”
“No, her mom’s the fashion designer—Mason Brooke Designs.”
“I heard she’s never been told no in her life.”
Lizzy didn’t acknowledge any of it. Natasha and Shrin joined her seconds later, arms linking naturally, the trio moving like royalty through parted crowds.
First period passed in predictable boredom until mathematics.
Lizzy lounged back in her chair, arms folded, legs crossed casually beneath the desk. When the teacher called her name and asked her to solve an equation on the board, she barely looked up.
“Why?” Lizzy asked coolly. “It’s basic pattern recognition. You can manipulate the variable without standing up.”
The room went quiet.
The teacher cleared his throat, choosing peace over confrontation. “Let’s… move on.”
Lizzy smiled faintly.
By lunchtime, the cafeteria buzzed. Trays clattered. Laughter rose and fell. Lizzy spotted Judith immediately—awkward posture, mismatched clothes, desperately trying to shrink into herself.
Perfect.
Lizzy stepped closer just as Judith passed, her heel catching the edge of Judith’s tray. The collision was gentle but deliberate. Food and drink spilled forward, soaking Judith’s uniform.
Gasps rippled. Someone laughed. Phones lifted.
“Oh no,” Lizzy said softly, eyes cool. “Careful. Some of us actually value appearances.”
Judith’s face burned red. “You— you did that on purpose.”
Lizzy leaned in slightly. “Prove it.”
The moment stretched, thick and humiliating. Then Lizzy turned away, uninterested, the crowd buzzing behind her.
After classes dragged to an end, Lizzy stretched lazily. “I’m starving.”
“KFC?” Shrin suggested.
Lizzy wrinkled her nose. “That place is cheap.”
“Just this once,” Natasha said. “Let’s see what everyone else eats.”
Lizzy sighed theatrically. “Fine. But don’t make a habit of it.”
Mr. James drove them out of the school grounds as they gossiped, laughing cruelly about classmates, outfits, smells, social hierarchies reaffirmed with every word.
KFC smelled like oil and noise.
Lizzy ordered minimally, unimpressed. She had barely taken a sip of her drink when the waitress approached.
Then it happened.
The bottle slipped. Liquid splashed across Lizzy’s jumpsuit.
Silence fell.
Lizzy stood abruptly. “Are you serious?”
“I—I’m sorry,” the girl stammered.
Lizzy’s eyes dropped to the badge pinned to her chest.
Ruth Daniels.
Then the pendant caught her eye.
A moon.
Something twisted sharply in Lizzy’s chest.
For a split second, the room felt wrong—too quiet, too bright. Ruth stared at her, frozen, as if she had seen something she wasn’t supposed to.
Lizzy’s irritation flared, sharp and defensive. “Watch where you’re going,” she snapped. “This isn’t your living room.”
Ruth blinked, expression smoothing. “I’m sorry,” she said again, softer.
As Ruth walked away, Lizzy remained standing, unsettled.
“I don’t like her,” Lizzy muttered. “Something about her.”
Natasha frowned. “You okay?”
Lizzy forced a laugh, reaching for her bag. “Let’s go. I suddenly lost my appetite.”
As they left, Lizzy glanced back once.
Ruth stood behind the counter, watching.
And for reasons Lizzy couldn’t explain, the chains from her dream felt closer than ever.
- Writer
