Forbidden Knots (Shadow Duet #1)

7. SEVEN

SEVEN

Storm

T he sky parted, the wind slowly receded, and a storm was coming as the rain lightly fell on our cheeks while we set up the tent. We moved it to the edge near the pine branches to shield us from the wind. Although it was about ten o'clock in the morning, it looked so gloomy outside as if evening was approaching, but we didn't care. I felt somewhat safer on the edge of the cliff with Sophie than I had felt last night.

I briefly told her what happened the night before on the way here, but she wasn't surprised because she still thought the house was haunted, and slowly, I was beginning to believe it too.

"I swear, Sophie, I thought I was imagining it all," I chuckled. "I had to pinch myself," I said, showing her the bruise.

The only thing I didn't mention was that the bruise on my arm was not from pinching myself, but from the shadow that was lurking above me, watching me almost all night long.

"At least you didn't have to listen to giggling and smacking lips all night," she rolled her eyes. "Tristan is such a driveller ."

I laughed. "The whole night?" I stopped. "WOW."

"And no less with that slut Chiara," she whispered. "That Italian girl from the beach."

"Wait!" I said, "You're telling me you live in the house across the street?"

She nodded. "I thought you knew."

I shook my head, realizing that her brother was the hot neighbor I had been watching from my window. Image of him with that girl last night, how Sophie heard it all, it wasn't leaving my mind.

"I saw them," I chuckled and blushed. "They did it in front of me."

"Ewww," she said. "Well, that's a nightmare."

While we were giggling and laughing, suddenly our tent started shaking and the zipper at the entrance was closing from the outside. Sophie let out a loud shriek as I pounded on the inside to let us out, but only a familiar smile was heard, and the pounding got harder and harder.

At that moment, Sophie turned to me with tears in her eyes and hugged me. I wrapped my arms around her, protecting her from the blows, while the impact reached my ribs. Then the tent started to turn, and we felt the edge of the cliff. The tent flap opened again, and as it did, Sophie jumped outside, pushing me to the edge. The tent rolled again, and I was falling inside.

It was one of those dark moments when you don't see light around you. It was one of those moments where you don't know what will happen next, and it was one of those moments I realized again that no one was there for me, and yet again, I was all alone.

Water surrounded me, filling the tent, its plastic walls wrapping around me as I gasped for air, but there was none. I tried to swim towards the exit, but I could feel only the water pulling me deeper and deeper down. My body twitched, gasping for the last bubbles before my lungs filled with water.

My eyes were closing, and slowly, I saw only darkness.

"C'mon," I heard an unfamiliar voice as I noticed his hands pressing on my chest.

I coughed up the water from my throat and lifted my head instantly, only to meet his eyes in front of me. One of his eyes was blue as the midnight sky, and the other was as green as the needle from the pine.

"What were you two thinking?" he turned towards Sophie and Chiara, who stood above him.

He was kneeling above me, his hair wet, his white shirt completely soaked. He had jumped after me. He saved me.

"This is not a fucking game, she could've died," he shouted. "Fucking kids." He stood up, shaking his head, then turned towards me, coldly saying, "You good?"

I was still coughing the water out and softly nodded my head, my voice not yet ready to scream. Sophie knelt before me, her eyes filled with tears. Chiara stood next to him and shouted towards me, "Drama Queen."

"Shut up, Chiara," Sophie shouted back.

"You pushed her, wasn't me," Chiara said, chuckling. "Do us all a favor and disappear!"

He looked at her with such hate in his eyes, I couldn't comprehend why at the moment, but I knew it had to do with this. He took her by the arm and dragged her up the stairs towards the exit from this cliff beach.

"I am so, so sorry," Sophie said. "If Tristan didn't jump..."

"Yeah," I barely spoke, and as I slowly lifted myself, I heard him shouting behind us, "You two as well, HOME!! Enough camping for the next few years!"

Sophie rolled her eyes and helped me stand up. My nose and mouth were still burning from the salty water, and my eyes were still blurry. I barely walked because my stomach hurt, but I leaned on Sophie as we made our way up, forgetting my purse and towel at the cliffs.

"Chiara can be such a bitch," she whispered. "She probably heard us talking."

"Yeah," I confirmed, but then I asked, "Are they dating?"

"No," she simply added. "Tristan doesn't date. He usually takes interest in someone, he then fucks, gets bored, and moves on."

I chuckled, "You can't be serious."

"I am dead serious," she said. "He may be my brother, but I wouldn't recommend him to date anyone, not even a bitch like Chiara."

Even though she said it, even though she meant it, when I felt his hands on my chest, my stomach twisted, awakening tingles in me that had been dormant for so long. And when I saw his eyes, they made me think about him even more. He was something I used to wish for.

As we neared home, I turned to Sophie. "Maybe he just needs someone to find him."

"You can't find someone who doesn't want to be found," she said, kissing my cheek and opening the door for me.

"Bye," I said, dragging myself up the stairs. Noticing that Grandma wasn't inside the house, I went straight to the bedroom.

This time, I was too ashamed to look through the window, so I immediately closed the shutters, making my bedroom as dark as midnight.

As I approached my nightstand, I noticed a white oleander and a piece of paper. Picking up the oleander, my gaze shifted to the paper. It was old, with twisted ends, and written in black ink it read:

The paper fell from my hands, and I gasped.

"Shadow," I whispered, "this isn't a dream."

This is my reality.

Someone is stalking me.

Someone is watching me from a distance.

Someone was there, someone was constantly in my shadow.

I stood silently for a moment, then took the paper, throwing the oleander on the bed. I left the room and walked towards the balcony where I saw my grandmother.

"Is everything okay?" she asked with a cigarette in her trembling hand.

I approached her, my hands shaking, and handed her the paper with the poem that the shadow left me. "I think someone is following me."

"What?" She shot back, "Do you know who?"

"I have no idea," I said. "A few days ago, I noticed a figure in a black hoodie with a cap on his head, but I didn't think it was anything serious until he appeared in my room."

"We have to be careful, dear. This is a small town, and if something like this gets out, it won't be good," she whispered, rolling up the piece of paper and putting it in her pocket. Then she muttered to herself, "History repeats itself again and again and again."

I asked, "Grandma, what should I do?"

"Hmm," Grandma muttered, turning towards the house next door. "I heard that our new neighbor is an American whose father worked in security. We can ask him."

"Why can't we just call the police?!" I asked, frustration and fear evident in my voice.

"No," she said, "they won't help us."

"That's nonsense, they should help us! It's their duty, for God's sake," I screamed hysterically.

She stood up, putting out her cigarette in the ashtray, which was already full of cigarette butts. She walked towards me, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the door.

"It doesn't cost us anything to ask the neighbor first. If that doesn't work, we'll call the police."

I'd never seen her like this, she was hiding something. Every time I wanted to ask her about it, the conversation would end with 'Not today' or 'I don't want to talk about it.'

There were so many secrets this house hid, and I wanted to find all of them. But now, she was taking me outside to the neighbor's house, and all I wanted to do was scream. I didn't want to see him again. I didn't want to see Chiara again.

As she rang the bell, I stood there blushing, my hand on my shoulder, my cheeks red, and my hair still wet. Outside, the rain poured down, and I wanted to be in bed. But somehow, without even noticing, I still held an oleander flower in my other hand. As he opened the door, Grandma noticed the flower and took it from my hand, throwing it to the ground and crushing it with her foot.

"No," I whispered, looking at the crushed flower.

Tristan leaned against the door frame, raising his brow as he saw my disappointment at the delicate flower's crushed petals.

"Can we talk?" my grandma said to him, and his eyebrows now formed a curved line as he looked at her, confused.

He nodded and tilted his neck, inviting us inside.