The boy who knew my Name

The first time I saw him, he was standing in the rain with blood on his shirt. Not his blood. At least, that was what I told myself. It was nearly midnight when I heard the knock. Three slow knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. I froze in my bedroom. Nobody visited our house that late. Especially not after what had happened to my father. Another knock came. I crept downstairs, careful not to make a sound. My mother's bedroom door was shut. She was asleep. Or at least I hoped she was. I reached the front door and looked through the curtain. A boy stood outside. Tall. Dark hair dripping with rain. Black shirt clinging to his body. One hand pressed against his side. And blood. So much blood. I should have called the police. Instead, I opened the door. His eyes lifted to mine. For a second, neither of us spoke. Then his lips parted. "Daniella." My heart stopped. I had never seen him before. Yet he knew my name. "How do you know me?" He stepped closer. "Because I've been looking for you." Before I could answer, headlights appeared at the end of the street. His expression changed instantly. Fear. Real fear. "Lock the door," he whispered. "What?" "Whatever happens, don't open it." Then he disappeared into the darkness behind our house. I stood there, staring after him. Three seconds later, a black SUV stopped outside my house. My blood turned cold. Someone stepped out. Then another. A voice came through the rain. "Find the girl." I slammed the door shut. And suddenly, I understood. The boy hadn't come to my house because he was hurt. He had come because someone was hunting me. --- I didn't sleep that night. At 6:13 a.m., I found something underneath my window. A silver necklace. It had a tiny pendant shaped like a crescent moon. I picked it up. The moment my fingers touched it, a voice whispered behind me. "You're wearing it." I screamed. The boy from the night before stood in my room. My bedroom door was still locked. I grabbed the nearest object I could find. A lamp. "Who are you?" He smiled faintly. "Adrian." "How did you get inside?" "Your window." I glanced at the window. It was locked. My eyes narrowed. "That's impossible." "There's a lot about me that's impossible." He stepped closer. I stepped backward. "Stay away from me." His smile disappeared. "I would if I could." Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist. "Why are people looking for me?" He didn't answer. "Adrian." His jaw tightened. "Because your father left something behind." "My father?" He nodded. "Something powerful enough to get people killed." I swallowed. "My father died six years ago." "I know." "Then how do you know him?" Silence. Adrian looked away. And that was when I noticed the scar across his neck. Three thin lines. The same three lines I had seen in an old photograph of my father. My heart pounded. "You knew him." Adrian looked directly into my eyes. "I didn't just know him." He stepped closer. "Your father saved my life." I couldn't breathe. "And now," he continued quietly, "I'm going to save yours." --- For the next three days, Adrian followed me everywhere. School. Home. The grocery store. Even the stupid little café where I bought chocolate milk after classes. He was annoying. Arrogant. Mysterious. And ridiculously attractive. I hated that last part. "You've been staring at me for thirty seconds," he said one afternoon. "I was wondering if you're capable of shutting up." He grinned. "Probably not." I rolled my eyes. He leaned closer. "You're blushing." "I'm angry." "Your cheeks disagree." I pushed him away. He laughed. And for a moment, everything felt normal. Until a gunshot shattered the café window. People screamed. Adrian grabbed me and pulled me to the floor. Glass exploded above us. His body covered mine. I could hear his heartbeat. Fast. Furious. "Don't move," he whispered. I stared into his eyes. "Adrian..." His fingers tightened around mine. "I'm here." Another shot. He pulled me up and dragged me through the kitchen. We ran. We didn't stop until we reached an abandoned alley behind the building. I was shaking. He was breathing heavily. Then I noticed something. Blood. Again. "You're hurt." He looked down. A bullet had grazed his shoulder. "I'm fine." "You could've died!" "So could you." "I didn't ask you to protect me!" His expression hardened. "I know." "Then why do you keep doing it?" He stared at me. For several seconds, he said nothing. Then he whispered, "Because I can't watch you die twice." My blood froze. "Twice?" Adrian's face changed. He had said too much. "What does that mean?" He stepped backward. "Daniella..." "Tell me." "You weren't supposed to remember." "Remember what?" Before he could answer, a car screeched around the corner. Adrian grabbed my hand. "Run." --- That night, I discovered the truth. Or what I thought was the truth. Adrian wasn't a stranger. He was the boy in my father's photographs. The boy my father had supposedly rescued from an orphanage. The boy who had disappeared six years ago. The boy everyone believed was dead. But there was something else. Something that made my entire world collapse. I found the photograph inside my father's old study. It showed my father. Adrian. And me. Except I was younger. Much younger. I stared at the photograph. My hands trembled. Why was I standing beside Adrian when I had never remembered meeting him? Then I noticed the writing on the back. "If she remembers, they will come for her." A floorboard creaked behind me. I turned. Adrian stood in the doorway. His face was pale. "You weren't supposed to find that." I held up the photograph. "Who am I?" He didn't answer. "Who am I, Adrian?" His eyes filled with something that looked dangerously close to pain. "You were my best friend." I shook my head. "No." "You were." "I would've remembered you." "They made sure you wouldn't." "Who?" He walked toward me. "The people who killed your father." My heart cracked. "You said my father died in an accident." "I lied." I slapped him. The sound echoed through the room. He didn't move. "You lied to me." "I had to." "You've been lying this whole time." "Yes." Tears burned my eyes. "Was anything real?" Adrian stared at me. Then he whispered, "My feelings for you." Silence. "What feelings?" He took another step. "The ones I was never supposed to have." My breath caught. He reached for my hand but stopped before touching me. "I've spent six years trying to stay away from you." "Why?" "Because everyone who gets close to me dies." I looked into his eyes. "Then why come back?" His voice broke. "Because I couldn't stay away anymore." --- The next morning, Adrian was gone. No note. No message. Nothing. For the first time since he'd appeared in my life, I was completely alone. Then my phone rang. Unknown number. I answered. A man's voice spoke. "Do you want to know where Adrian is?" My heart stopped. "Who are you?" "Someone who knows the truth about your father." "Where is he?" A pause. "Come to the old railway station at midnight." "Why?" "Bring the necklace." The call ended. I looked down at the silver crescent around my neck. I should have stayed home. I should have called the police. Instead, at 11:57 p.m., I stood alone at the railway station. Rain poured around me. A train whistle sounded in the distance. Then I saw Adrian. He was tied to a chair. His face was bruised. Blood ran from his lip. Three men stood behind him. One stepped forward. "You came." I swallowed. "Let him go." The man smiled. "Give me the necklace." I touched it. Then Adrian shouted, "NO!" The man turned and punched him. I flinched. "Give it to me." I slowly removed the necklace. But before I could hand it over, Adrian looked at me. His eyes were desperate. Not afraid for himself. Afraid for me. "Daniella," he whispered. Then he smiled. And I realized something. The necklace wasn't what they wanted. It was the key. And Adrian had known it all along. I dropped it. The lights went out. A gunshot rang through the darkness. Then another. Someone grabbed my waist. I screamed. A familiar voice whispered against my ear. "Trust me." Adrian. He pulled me into the darkness. We ran. Behind us, men shouted. Bullets tore through the night. We didn't stop until we reached the edge of the forest. I collapsed against a tree. "Where are we going?" "Somewhere they can't find us." "Adrian." He stopped. I looked at him. "You knew this would happen." He nodded. "You knew they'd come." "Yes." "You knew my father was murdered." "Yes." "And you knew me before I remembered you." His eyes lowered. "Yes." I stepped closer. "Then tell me everything." He looked at me for a long moment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out an old photograph. He handed it to me. It was the same photograph from my father's study. Except this version had something written on the back. I turned it over. My breath caught. "Daniella is not my daughter." I looked up at Adrian. He was staring at me. "The woman you call your mother isn't your mother." My world went silent. "What?" Adrian stepped closer. "Your real mother is alive." I couldn't speak. "And she's the reason your father died." My heart pounded. "Where is she?" Adrian's eyes darkened. "She's been waiting for you." "Where?" He took my hand. "At my house." I stared at him. "You have a house?" He nodded. "Where?" He smiled sadly. "Under your father's grave." I frowned. "What does that mean?" Adrian leaned closer. His lips almost touched mine. "It means, Daniella..." A gunshot exploded behind us. Adrian jerked. His body went still. Then he collapsed into my arms. "ADRIAN!" Blood spread across his shirt. I screamed his name. But his eyes remained closed. And from somewhere deep inside the forest, a woman's voice whispered: "Finally." I turned. A woman stepped from the shadows. She looked exactly like me. Same eyes. Same smile. Same crescent-shaped birthmark beneath her left eye. She stared at me. Then she smiled. "Hello, daughter." To be continued...