Blood...

Bloo... dddd...

Blood...

my blood...

How... how is this possible?

My heart pounded violently in my chest as I stared at the red pooling around me. Warm... thick... sticky. My own blood.

But how did it happen?

Who are these people?

Why can’t I remember anything?

My head throbbed with confusion.

Come on... focus.

Think... just think!

Everything was spinning. The lights above flickered like they were mocking me. The shadows around the room danced, moving with the echo of footsteps.

Then, A figure emerged from the darkness. He stepped closer... slowly, deliberately. I tried to make out his face, but my vision was too blurred. Like I was looking through water.

But that voice...That voice was etched into my mind.

I’ve heard it before.

I know him...

Lucas.

He knelt down beside me, his grip suddenly tight on my arm. His fingers dug into my skin like iron claws.

He leaned in, close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek. Then he spoke—softly, but with venom in every word.

"How does it feel, darling?"

A cruel smirk curled on his lips.

"Not feeling enough pain yet? Don’t worry... I can fix that."

I tried to speak—to scream—but my throat was raw, dry, useless.

Fear gripped me like chains, cold and heavy. My hands trembled, slick with blood, as I struggled to push myself up, but my body betrayed me. Too weak. Too broken.

Lucas’s fingers trailed up to my chin, tilting my face toward him.

His eyes… they were no longer the ones I remembered.

Once warm, once protective—now dark, unreadable, almost hungry.

He studied me like a hunter admiring his prey.

"You don’t remember, do you?" he whispered, his voice smooth as poison.

"Everything we were... everything we could have been... and now look at you."

I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his words.

What was he talking about?

What did he mean everything we could have been? My heartbeat pounded louder, faster.

Flashes—images—started flickering in my head.

Laughter.

Rain.

A kiss in the dark.

Tears.

Betrayal.

“Why... why are you doing this?” I finally choked out, my voice barely more than a whisper.

But he heard me. Oh, he heard me. Lucas leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear.

"Because, darling... you left me to burn."

His words dripped with bitterness, his grip tightening painfully.

"And now... I'm just returning the favor."

I gasped, my mind spinning.

Left him? Burn? What had I done?

Suddenly, behind him, I heard footsteps. More figures. More shadows. A woman’s voice called out—sharp, cold.

“Enough, Lucas. We need her alive.”

Lucas clenched his jaw, clearly displeased.

But he stood, his towering form blocking out what little light remained above me.

“You’re lucky,” he hissed. “They still think you’re useful. But me?”

He crouched down again, his face inches from mine.

“I know better. You’re just a ticking bomb. And I’ll be here when you explode.”

Then he turned and walked away, his boots echoing like war drums across the floor.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, mixing with the blood.

I didn’t know where I was.

I didn’t know what I had done.

But one thing was clear,This wasn’t just a mistake. It was personal. And somehow, I was at the center of it all.

________________

My eyes flew open with a sharp gasp.

My chest rose and fell in uneven, shallow breaths as I struggled to remember where I was.

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—painted in a soft beige, with faint cracks running along the corners. The scent of old wood and herbs lingered in the air. I wasn’t in that dark room anymore.

No blood.

No Lucas.

But where was I?

I tried to sit up, but my muscles ached, heavy with exhaustion and something else—tranquilizers, maybe? My head throbbed. My throat was dry.

Just then, I heard footsteps. Two figures approached quietly from the doorway—an elderly man and woman. Both of them dressed in simple, homely clothes, their faces worn with age, yet gentle and welcoming.

The woman had silver hair neatly tied back into a bun, her eyes warm like fading candlelight. The man had a long, snow-white beard, and kind wrinkles etched deep into his face.

They walked toward me slowly, careful not to startle me. The woman offered a soft, motherly smile.

“You’re awake, dear,”

She said kindly, her voice warm and soothing, like a lullaby. The man gave a small nod.

“We were beginning to worry. You’ve been asleep for almost three days.”

Three days?

Panic rose again in my chest. My fingers gripped the edge of the blanket covering me.

“Where… where am I?”

I asked, my voice cracking.

The woman gently took a seat on the edge of the bed and placed a cool hand on my forehead.

“Safe,” she whispered. “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you here.”

Safe.

That word sounded foreign now.

I blinked at them, trying to believe it, to feel comforted. But my mind refused to rest. I remembered Lucas’s words—his voice still echoing in my head. You left me to burn.

“Who are you?” I asked slowly, eyeing them both with suspicion.

The old man folded his hands behind his back and exchanged a brief glance with the woman before answering.

“My name is Elias. This is my wife, Mira. We found you... we found you near sea shore..."

I swallowed hard.

He said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for answers in my face.

"You were unconscious, soaking wet... and, dear—" Mira’s voice softened, filled with concern,

"—you were covered in blood."

My breath hitched.

The sea... blood... Lucas...

It all felt like a dream unraveling slowly—too fast for me to understand, too slow to make sense. My fingers clenched the sheet beneath me.

"Do you remember anything?" Elias asked gently, watching me closely.

I opened my mouth, then shut it. My mind was a blur—fragmented pieces of a puzzle I didn’t know how to put together.

Lucas’s voice echoed again:

“You left me to burn.”

“I’m just returning the favor.”

"I... I don’t know who I am," I whispered, shame washing over me like a wave.

The words felt like ash in my mouth.

"I don’t remember anything. Not even my name."

Mira’s eyes softened with a mother’s sadness. She reached out, gently squeezing my hand.

"That’s alright, sweetheart. You don’t need to remember it all now."

"What matters is—you’re alive. You’re safe."

Safe.

That word again.

Then Elias stepped forward, placing something on the small table beside the bed—a worn leather pouch.

"This was with you when we found you," he said.

I looked at it cautiously. My heart started to race.

He opened it carefully, pulling out a few strange things— A rusted silver pendant.

A torn photograph, faded and water-damaged.

A small knife with dried blood on its edge.

And... a name.

Scrawled in hurried ink on the back of the photo.

"Aria."

My fingers trembled as I reached for it.

Aria... was that me?

I know it's not my name...

The name felt familiar... like something whispered in a dream.

..._______________________...

I stared at the name on the photograph—Aria—the ink smudged by seawater and time.

Something inside me twisted.

Aria is not my name.

But that truth… it wasn’t something I could share.Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I glanced up at Elias and Mira. They were watching me with such soft eyes, such kindness. Like I was some lost, helpless girl they had found and brought back to life.

If they knew the truth...

If they knew who I really was...

What I’d seen. What I’d done.

What I was running from…

Their kindness would vanish. Just like everyone else's.

No one looks at a monster with gentle eyes.

I slowly wrapped my fingers around the photograph and nodded faintly.

"Aria..." I whispered, swallowing hard, forcing the name through my throat.

"Maybe that’s me..."

Mira smiled, as if relieved to finally have something to call me.

“It’s a beautiful name.”

I offered a weak smile, nodding again, masking the storm rising behind my eyes.

I had to keep the act up. For now, I had to be Aria.

I couldn’t afford questions. I couldn’t risk truths. Inside, my thoughts spiraled like smoke.

I turned away slightly, letting Mira fluff the pillows behind me.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “For saving me. For not asking too much.”

Elias nodded kindly.

“You’re welcome here as long as you need, Aria.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

Aria.

A name that wasn’t mine.

A mask I had to wear...

Until I remembered who I really was—

And whether she was worth saving.

Just as I tried to settle into the silence, a low growl escaped from my stomach.

Embarrassed, I placed a hand over it, but Mira heard it immediately. She smiled warmly.

"You’re hungry," she said with a chuckle. "Of course you are. You’ve barely had anything in three days."

She stood and brushed off her apron. "I’ll make you something light. A warm, healthy soup will do you good."

She turned toward the door but paused halfway, glancing back at Elias. Her tone softened—gentle, but concerned.

"Don’t let her get up, Elias. She needs rest."

Elias gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful.

"I know," he murmured. "I’m just coming..."

Mira smiled once more at me before disappearing through the door.

Elias stayed behind, his old bones shifting slightly as he rose to his feet. The wooden chair creaked beneath him.

Then, unexpectedly, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed beside me.

With surprising tenderness, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my forehead. His hand was rough and warm.

"You know," he said softly, voice barely above a whisper, "we have a daughter too."

He paused, his eyes distant, filled with some old sorrow.

"Her name... was also Aria."

My breath caught.

"She would’ve been your age now," he continued, trying to smile through the ache.

"Same sharp eyes. Same fire."

His gaze lingered on me, not with suspicion, but something deeper—hope wrapped in grief.

I didn’t know what to say. The silence between us grew thick. I hated how familiar her name sounded on his lips. Like I’d stolen it from a ghost.

"I’m sorry," I said quietly, unsure why I felt the need to apologize.

Elias simply nodded, patting my hand gently.

"Rest, child. Names don’t matter as much as hearts. And yours..." He looked at me one last time, "Yours feels like it’s been through a war."

And with that, he stood and followed Mira out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My fingers curled around the photograph again. Their daughter... AriaWhat had happened to her?

And why did it feel like this name—the name I’d claimed—was both a shield and a curse?

I wasn’t her.

________________________