Bloody Rose

A City That Doesn’t Know My Name

Rose’s POV

It has been over a year and a half since the incident at the beach house, but to me it still feels fresh, like it refuses to become the past no matter how much time passes. The memories do not fade. They do not soften. They sit inside my mind like they were carved there permanently.

I still see everything when I close my eyes.

The blood.

The panic.

The chaos.

And always, without fail, I see him.

Not Keith.

The hooded figure.

Those eyes.

Sharp, intense, almost unreal in the way they seemed to look straight through me. I do not understand why my mind refuses to let go of him. I do not even know who he is, but he lingers in my thoughts more than I care to admit.

Keith is still there, too.

Not physically.

But in every fear I carry.

In every instinct that tells me to look over my shoulder.

I think about him more than I should. About whether prison walls are truly enough to hold a man like him. A man who always found a way out of everything. A man who turned control into breathing.

But Zena refuses to let me stay in those thoughts.

Every time I spiral, she tells me the same thing.

Let it go.

Move forward.

Live your life.

As if it is that simple.

As if trauma listens to instructions.

As if fear obeys commands.

I have a new identity now. A new name. A new life built on silence and survival. I am supposed to be someone else entirely.

But sometimes I wonder if I actually became someone new… or if I just learned how to disappear better.

I have been moving for months. City after city. Bus after bus. Never staying long enough to be traced. Never staying long enough to feel safe.

Freedom was supposed to feel like relief.

Instead, it feels like constant motion.

Like I am always one step ahead of something I cannot see but still feel breathing behind me.

I stepped off another bus and exhaled slowly.

“This is it,” I whispered. “A new city.”

My voice did not carry hope. It carried routine.

Maybe this one will be different. Maybe this one will feel like home.

But I did not believe it anymore.

I started walking without direction, letting the city swallow me whole. People passed by in every direction, all of them certain of where they were going. Cars rushed through the streets. Voices blended into a constant hum.

Everything felt alive.

Everything except me.

“This place is huge,” I muttered, turning slowly as I tried to orient myself.

Time slipped away without warning.

I walked for what felt like hours. My legs grew heavier. My throat dried. The sky slowly dimmed above me, shifting into evening colors.

That was when I realized it.

I was lost.

Completely lost.

“Goddamnit,” I groaned, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “Of course, I am lost.”

I pulled out a folded map, my hands already shaking slightly. I stared at it, trying to make sense of the lines and names, but everything blurred together.

Nothing looked familiar.

Nothing helped.

“I am so done for,” I muttered under my breath, frustration rising in my chest.

My breathing started to tighten.

No.

Not now.

I cannot panic here.

Then a voice broke through the noise.

“Hey, you look lost.”

I froze instantly.

Slowly, I turned.

A girl stood a few steps away from me. Brunette hair. Soft expression. Calm eyes that did not look judgmental. She seemed close to my age, maybe a little younger.

I forced myself to respond.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I think I am.”

She smiled gently.

“Where are you trying to go?”

That question hit harder than expected.

Because the truth was simple.

I did not know.

I hesitated.

“I am new here,” I said quickly, trying to recover. “My name is Tyler. Tyler Cain.”

The name still felt strange on my tongue. Like I was borrowing it instead of owning it. Like it belonged to someone I had not fully become yet.

“Oh,” she said warmly. “I am Eve. Eve Rivers.”

She extended her hand.

I shook it lightly.

“Nice to meet you, Eve,” I said.

“Same here, Tyler,” she replied with an easy smile.

But when she said my name, something inside me tightened.

Tyler Cain.

Not Rose Richards.

Never again, Rose Richards.

I looked away quickly, forcing myself to stay composed.

Eve tilted her head slightly.

“You are new in the city, right?” she said. “You can stay at my apartment for a bit. Until you settle.”

My eyes widened slightly.

“Oh no, I do not want to impose. I can find a hotel.”

She immediately shook her head.

“No. Absolutely not. It is your first day in the city. Let me help you.”

Her tone was firm but kind, as she had already decided.

I hesitated again.

People like her were not supposed to exist in my world anymore. Kindness usually came with conditions. Or consequences.

But I was exhausted.

And lost.

And tired of saying no to everything that might keep me upright.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”

Her face brightened.

“Great. Let’s go.”

We walked together through the city until we reached a modest apartment building. Nothing flashy. Just a simple, lived-in space tucked between taller buildings.

“Fourth floor,” she said as we climbed the stairs.

My legs burned slightly, but I followed without complaint.

When she opened the door, warmth greeted me immediately.

The apartment was small but beautifully arranged. Plants near the windows. Soft lighting. Carefully chosen decorations that made it feel personal.

I stepped inside slowly.

“It is really nice,” I said honestly.

“Thank you,” Eve replied, heading toward the kitchen. “I am an interior designer. I cannot help myself.”

She handed me a drink a few minutes later.

I accepted it carefully.

We sat, and for a moment there was only quiet between us.

Then she asked gently, “So, Tyler… why are you in the city?”

My fingers tightened around the bottle.

The truth sat heavy in my throat.

I am running.

I am hiding.

I am not safe anywhere.

But I could not say that.

So I smiled instead.

“I am just exploring,” I said. “Hoping this city is good for me.”

She nodded as if that was enough.

“I think it will be,” she said. “This city has a way of keeping people who are meant to stay.”

I gave a small, careful laugh.

But my chest did not agree.

People like me did not stay anywhere.

We survived.

We moved.

We disappeared.

Eve returned to the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared something to eat. I stood slowly and walked toward the window.

Outside, the city stretched endlessly.

Lights flickered across buildings like scattered stars.

So many lives.

So much noise.

So much normalcy.

And none of them knew my name.

None of them knew what I was running from.

For a moment, I almost felt invisible in a peaceful way instead of a terrifying one.

Almost.

“I do not know how long I will stay here,” I whispered.

My reflection stared back at me faintly in the glass.

Tyler Cain.

A name without history.

A life without roots.

“I will stay,” I added softly, “until my past finds me again.”

And even as I said it, I wondered if it already had.