CHAPTER EIGHT - GHOSTS IN THE MIRROR
382 Words
Naomie stood in front of her bathroom mirror, a towel wrapped tightly around her frame, her curls damp and sticking to her forehead. She stared at her reflection like it was a stranger-familiar but distant. Her eyes had circles under them, and her cheeks looked more hollow than she remembered.
She didn’t know who she was becoming.
There was a knock on the door. Not the front door. Her bedroom door.
“Naomie?” her roommate, Ijeoma, called. “You good?”
Naomie quickly grabbed her robe and stepped out. Ijeoma’s concerned eyes met hers.
“You’ve been quiet lately.”
Naomie shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“That guy,” Ijeoma said cautiously, “the one from the café. Liam?”
Naomie’s heartbeat jumped. She hated that his name had that kind of power. “What about him?”
“Do you like him?”
Naomie opened her mouth, then closed it again. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her palms like the answers were written there.
“I don’t know,” she said. “He’s... complicated.”
Ijeoma nodded and sat beside her. “So are you.”
That made Naomie laugh-short, dry, but honest. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Later that night, she got a call. Unknown number.
She hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Something in her gut told her to ignore it. But she answered anyway.
“Naomie.”
The voice was low. Familiar. Cold.
Her blood ran cold. “Kelechi?”
“Still remember me?”
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“I heard you’ve been getting cozy with someone new. Just thought I’d say hi before things got... complicated again.”
“You don’t get to threaten me,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, but her fingers trembled.
“I don’t need to threaten you, Naomie. I just want you to remember what happens when you trust too easily.”
He hung up.
She dropped the phone like it had burned her and backed away from it, pressing a hand to her mouth to stop the scream building in her throat.
Kelechi. The name was a curse she’d buried long ago. A past too dark to revisit.
And now it was knocking again.
- Writer
