His eyes were a shade of green, and his mask hid the nose and mouth of his chiseled face. I gasped when his shoulder collided with mine as he walked past, without a glance or a word of apology.
"Watch where you are..." I paused, swallowing my complaint after spotting the same birthmark on the side of his neck that I had on mine.
How could it be possible that a birthmark shaped like half a star appeared in the very same place I had mine? The shock of it made me pause to stare at the expanse of his back.
As the wind blew his coat open, I caught the glint of steel tucked into his waistband. A gun. I held my breath. What was he up to? Was he a detective? I was desperate to know who he really was.
I watched him stop in front of a luxurious building and lift his gaze to the balcony. I tried to trace what he was looking at, but I was suddenly distracted by the one person I'd been avoiding; Tina Newman. She was approaching from a distance, so I ducked my head and kept walking.
"Give me a break," I mumbled under my breath. I tried to outpace her but still ended up being caught in the end.
"Are you coming over for the weekend?" Tina shouted across the road, loud enough to turn the heads of people who weren't even part of the conversation.
"Nah, I'm good," I yelled back. My reply barely made it through the breeze, and even if she heard, I hoped she would take the hint and not come running over asking why I had suddenly decided to flake.
She was doing it intentionally to provoke me. We were not friends at all, only groupmates thrown together for a project that had led me unwillingly to her house, although I had managed to escape the full ordeal by joining the rest of them from my own room via video call.
I wasn't ready, emotionally or socially, for another round of humiliation, especially after being laughed at for a damn period stain; I was just dealing with something completely natural.
Thank goodness for the emergency hoodie in my bag, it rescued what was left of my reputation.
"Hey!" a male voice called, and I turned to look.
He was seated in a dark grey car, the window drawn low, with one arm hanging out lazily.
I had heard many stories about girls getting snatched right off this very road. I knew better than to stop or give anyone the benefit of the doubt, so I ignored him.
I walked like I couldn't hear, but he continued to drive slowly, matching my pace.
"Sandra Macholyn!" he called out.
My knees buckled so hard I nearly collapsed. How could a man I had never met before know my name? How could he say it like he knew exactly how my tribe would pronounce it? I was not a niece or a goddaughter.
I stopped moving, and my eyes darted around in every direction just to double-check that there wasn't another girl walking nearby who happened to have my name, though the odds of that were laughable. There were a few people about, scattered across the pavements, some chatting, some strolling, but none of them looked like they bore that name. That left me.
"You've become such a big girl, happy eighteenth birthday," he said.
Eighteenth. Today I was eighteen. I had completely forgotten it myself; I hadn't even recognized the date on the calendar, yet this man knew. He was the only one who had said the words "Happy Birthday" to me. How the hell did this man know my age? How did he know today was the day? I was as terrified as I was intrigued. I needed to know how he had tracked me down.
"Do I know you, sir?"
"You might not know me," he chuckled, "but the person who's going to kill you is someone you already know....intimately, someone you're madly in love with. You'd better stay away from him. I'm certain you've met him already."
"Who are you talking about?" I furrowed my brows.
"Never mind," he muttered, already pulling on his gloves. Then he drove off, leaving me standing there with my thoughts thrown in every direction.
He looked like a man in his fifties, maybe late fifties. He had the face of a man whose features don't stay in your memory unless you try very hard to remember them.
I stood there in a trance, speechless, frozen for what felt like an eternity. The word 'love' rang in my head. I'd never been intimate with anyone; I had no past lovers, no secret romances. Even during my time in Kantovia as a child, I never had a relationship like that. This was entirely new territory, and the idea was as confusing as it was terrifying.
I wondered if that man had simply gone mad, but being told someone was going to kill me felt like a direct threat. It was the most horrific thing I had ever heard. I turned around to look for the masked man, but the spot where he had been standing was empty. He was gone, just like that. I tried to tell myself I was overthinking it, that maybe I had imagined the whole thing, but the cold weight in my chest told me otherwise.
I had never let my surname slip in this town, not even to my classmates. I'd only ever used it for school registration, and those records were kept strictly confidential. In a place where no one knew my bloodline or where I came from, this man somehow did.
******
After I got home, I stormed into my room and flopped onto my bed. It was sad that I was staying alone, celebrating my birthday alone..... again.
Gone were the days when my parents acted like parents.
"It's all in the past," I whispered.
I sighed and quickly went to the loo to splash water on my face. I was so relieved this was my last period for the month. I stared at myself in the mirror. The hollows of my collarbones were so deep they could hold a ridiculous amount of water. I had become as skinny as a toothpick, and it never ended. I lost weight almost every single month, but I was scared to visit the doctor for a checkup, afraid to hear the worst. I tilted my head and glared at the birthmark on the side of my neck.
I was deeply worried that my parents might have lied to me about this birthmark. I had been in a lot of arguments about it being a tattoo with a bunch of folks who couldn't accept the belief that I was born this way.
It's not like strangers can't share the same birthmark, I thought. I'm just overthinking things.
After taking a shower, I jumped into bed for a quick nap, but I couldn't sleep, probably because I'd just had coffee. And mostly because of that man I saw earlier.
The sudden, harsh vibration of my phone shattered the silence of the room. It rattled against the wooden table, an invasive sound that made me flinch. I glared at the device, my jaw tightening.
Scam likely. It was always some robo-caller trying to sell me an extended warranty or tell me my social security number had been compromised.
I turned back to my work, determined to ignore it. Just stop, I thought, gritting my teeth. Go to voicemail so I can delete you.
But the phone didn't stop. It buzzed relentlessly, vibrating across the table until it teetered on the edge. Scammers usually gave up after four rings. This was frantic.
I sighed heavily.
I lunged forward and snatched the phone up, ready to hurl a curse word at a telemarketer. I flipped the screen over.
My breath froze in my throat.
MOM.
I stared at the glowing letters, blinking in shock. My thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly. Why was she calling? The last time we spoke, she made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me. I was a ghost to them; written off, disowned, forgotten. Was this a pocket dial? A mistake? Or was someone dead?
I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the rejection I was sure would come, and slid my thumb across the glass. I pressed the phone hard against my ear.
"Mom?"
Static hissed on the line.
"Hello? Mom? Are you okay?"
I waited for a hello, a scolding, anything. Instead, a wall of sound crashed through the speaker. It was wet, ragged sobbing that sounded too close to the microphone. Background noise swirled around; the sound of glass breaking.
"Mom!" I shouted, gripping the phone so tight my knuckles turned white.
Then, a scream tore through the connection. It was high-pitched and terrifying.
"Mom! Talk to me!"
Still there was more noise and struggles. The unmistakable sound of a phone hitting the floor. And then... silence.
Click.
The line went dead.
I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the black screen as if it had just bitten me. My heart hammered against my ribs. What the hell was that? My mind raced, trying to piece together the chaos I'd just heard.
The next minute, a gust of wind forced the wooden window open, scattering the papers across my desk.
Bang! Bang!
The sounds were deafening. Before I could even flinch, my coffee mug exploded, spraying hot liquid everywhere.
Then, a sharp crash. The bullet missed me but struck the fish bowl by the window.
I screamed and threw myself to the floor, covering my head. Through the ringing in my ears, I could hear the wet sound of my fish flopping on the bare floor.