Chapter 12 - The Weight of a Touch
1146 Words
Anna spent the rest of the morning pretending she wasn’t unravelling from the inside out.
She had gotten good at it over the years—masking the turmoil, suppressing the emotions that clawed at her insides. But with Damien watching her like he could see straight through every wall she had built, it was getting harder to keep up the act.
They sat in silence, the coffee between them growing cold. She could feel Damien’s gaze on her, studying her reactions, assessing her every move. It made her skin prickle.
Finally, she sighed and set her cup down. “You’re thinking something. Just say it.”
Damien leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the armrest. “I want to go back to where it happened.”
Her breath caught. “What?”
“The house where the party took place,” he clarified. “I want to see it for myself.”
A sharp chill ran through her. The last time she had been there, she had been dragged away in handcuffs, drenched in someone else’s blood. The thought of stepping foot in that place again made her stomach turn.
“No,” she said firmly.
Damien’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”
“Because it’s a bad idea,” she snapped. “Because it won’t change anything. Because—”
Because I don’t want to remember.
Damien tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. “You’re afraid.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Of course, I’m afraid. That place ruined my life.”
“Then don’t you want to face it?”
Anna’s hands clenched into fists in her lap. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. Facing it meant opening doors she had long since bolted shut, and she wasn’t sure she could survive that again.
She exhaled slowly. “There’s nothing left there, Damien.”
He held her gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Then I’ll go alone.”
Panic surged through her. “No.”
His lips quirked at her immediate protest. “So, you do care.”
She scowled. “I care that you’re going to get yourself in trouble.”
“Then come with me.”
She groaned, running a hand through her hair. This was a mistake. She knew it. But Damien was relentless, and if she let him go alone, he might find something—something that would rip open old wounds she had barely managed to stitch together.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But we go in, take a look, and leave. No digging. No stirring things up.”
Damien smirked. “No promises.”
The house stood at the end of a quiet street, untouched by time but heavy with ghosts.
Anna’s breath hitched the second they pulled up to the curb. The large, two-story mansion was just as she remembered it—towering, pristine, and utterly suffocating.
The last time she had seen it, she had been nineteen, confused, terrified, and alone.
Her fingers dug into the fabric of her jeans as she forced herself to steady her breathing. Damien cut the engine, glancing at her. “You okay?”
No. “Yeah.”
He didn’t look convinced but said nothing as he got out of the car. Anna followed, her steps feeling heavier with each one she took toward the house.
It had been abandoned for years, left to decay after the tragedy that had happened within its walls. No one had wanted to live in a place stained with death.
Damien tested the front door. It was locked, of course. He glanced at her. “Any ideas?”
Anna hesitated before exhaling sharply. “Around the back.”
They moved around the side of the house, the overgrown grass brushing against their legs. Anna led him to the back entrance, reaching under the loose brick where she knew the spare key had always been hidden.
Her fingers found the cold metal, and her stomach twisted. How many times did I come here, never realizing it would one day become my nightmare?
She handed the key to Damien, who unlocked the door and pushed it open. The air inside was stale, thick with dust and the scent of abandonment. Anna hesitated in the doorway, every nerve in her body screaming at her to turn around and leave.
Damien stepped inside first, glancing around. “No one’s been here in a long time.”
Anna swallowed hard, forcing her feet to move. The second she stepped inside, memories crashed into her like a tidal wave.
Laughter. Music. The clinking of glasses. The warmth of a drink in her hand. Allen’s arm around her waist. A whispered promise.
Then—
Darkness.
Her head spun, her breath coming in shallow pants. Damien must have noticed because he stepped closer, his voice lower now. “Anna.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her fingers against her temples. Not now. Not here.
Damien waited, silent but steady. When she finally opened her eyes, he didn’t say anything. He just nodded toward the staircase. “Where did it happen?”
Anna’s throat tightened. Her feet moved on their own, carrying her up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. She turned the corner, stopping in front of the room she never wanted to see again.
The door was slightly ajar.
She reached out with a shaking hand and pushed it open.
The room was empty. But the ghosts were still there.
Anna’s pulse pounded as she stepped inside, her eyes darting around. The faded carpet. The peeling wallpaper. The window where the moon had cast its glow that night.
She could see it so clearly now.
She turned to Damien, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is where I woke up.”
He studied the room, his gaze sharp and assessing. “And the body?”
“Near the bed.” Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to keep going. “There was so much blood. I tried to move, but I was dizzy. Weak. And then—”
She faltered, her head spinning again. The memories were flooding back too fast. Too much.
Damien’s voice grounded her. “Then what?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. "I heard someone… running."
Silence.
When she opened her eyes, Damien’s expression was unreadable. “You never mentioned that before.”
She swallowed. “I—I don’t think I even remembered it until now.”
Damien exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “That changes things.”
A lump lodged in Anna’s throat. "Damien, what if—" She couldn’t even say it. The possibility was too terrifying.
His gaze met hers, steady, unwavering. "Then we figure out the truth. Together."
Anna didn’t know if that reassured her or scared her more.
But one thing was certain.
They weren’t turning back now.
- Writer
