Chapter 2: Ghosts of the Past  

Finally, I was on my way home.  

My hands were still trembling as I recalled what had happened at the club, but I clasped them together, trying to suppress some of the fear that still lingered.  

I glanced at my watch, the last item my mother had left me, the only thing I managed to save before my stepmother, Diane, could destroy it and sought comfort in it.  

The entire way, I kept thinking about that crazy, terrifying man.  

I couldn’t recall ever seeing him at the club before. A man as handsome as him would be impossible to forget. Yet, not even all his beauty could erase the unpleasant taste he left in my mouth.  

“That man was completely insane. Who was he?” I thought, irritated, as I remembered the way he compared me to a squirrel as if he knew me.  

But there was also that strange promise that still sent shivers through my entire body. That man was definitely dangerous. His blood-stained face was etched in my mind, a gruesome reminder of how terrifying the world could be.  

As much as that man had scared and shaken me, the chances of running into him again were slim, quite unlike the nightmare awaiting me.  

The house, which I once called home, now felt like a grim monument to all the misery that had settled into my life.  

Peckham, a neighborhood in south London well-known for its diversity, was full of life during the day, with multicultural markets, children running and playing, and vendors shouting from the sidewalks—a stark contrast to its nightlife.  

The heavy silence, dark alleys, and old buildings with their worn-out facades seemed to hide sinister secrets. At night, the sound of distant sirens and barking dogs echoed while streetlights flickered, leaving stretches of the road in dim shadows.  

My house was on one of the side streets, a Victorian-style building that had seen better days.  

I sighed as I looked at the house. The paint was peeling, the wooden porch showed signs of rot, and the windows were filthy. Anyone would think it was one of the many abandoned buildings, but it was where I lived with Diane, my stepmother, and her son, Liam.  

After my father’s death, Diane had partitioned the house for rent, but it was becoming harder to find tenants, leaving us in an increasingly dire situation.  

Diane and Liam didn’t work; I was the only one providing for the household and managing the bills. They didn’t even do basic chores, more concerned with presenting themselves as wealthy in front of others, spending money they didn’t have on clothes, makeup, and expensive accessories.  

I had no idea where they were getting that money, and honestly, as long as they didn’t involve me, I didn’t care. My focus was on graduating from nursing school and getting out of that house, but with my salary from Shadow of Sophia, it seemed impossible.  

I had a plan, but the obstacles in my path made it harder every day to make it a reality.  

As soon as I opened the door, the loud creak of the hinges echoed like a grim warning. Diane appeared in a dress that didn’t suit her 47 years of age. Her heels clacked on the wooden floor as she walked. Her cold, blue eyes scanned me from head to toe while she adjusted her blonde hair, tied up in a Chanel bun.  

“My dear,” she said with her manipulative smile slightly tilted to the side. “How was work? Did you get good tips?”  

I knew that conversation and that smile all too well. Whenever Diane wanted something or was lying, her fake smile would tilt slightly to the left—a tell I had quickly learned to spot.  

I placed my bag on the green upholstered chair, one of the questionable decor pieces Diane loved, and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. The cut on my hand from the incident at the club throbbed as I held the glass. I could hear the sound of those awful heels following me like a cursed shadow.  

“It wasn’t busy today, so I didn’t get much, but it’ll be enough to add to last week’s tips and pay one of the overdue bills,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. She huffed behind me.  

“That’s ridiculous!” Diane’s voice rose, furious. “Just give me the damn money and work harder. We can’t live like this.”  

I took a deep breath, knowing exactly what that woman wanted the money for. She’d spend it on clothes or entertaining some boy half her age, just like she had done with the inheritance my father left us.  

I glanced over my shoulder and saw her lighting a cigarette, her expression furious as she muttered something about being too good for this life.  

I just walked past her, ignoring her complaints. All I wanted was to go to my room and sleep a bit, but as soon as I turned toward the stairs, I came face to face with Liam coming down.  

Though his personality was identical to his mother’s, his appearance was completely different. With light brown hair and brown eyes, he charmed innocent, wealthy young women into giving him gifts and even allowances. And what they loved most was the scar he had at the corner of his mouth.  

The story Liam told was that he had gotten into a fight with a gang member, but the truth was he had fallen off his bike when he was eleven and split his lip.  

I tried to slip past him, squeezing between his tall, muscular body and the wall, but he grabbed my elbow, stopping me.  

“What’s the rush, little sister?”  

That smile might fool someone who didn’t know him, but to me, it only caused disgust and repulsion. His grip tightened, hurting me. He leaned closer, his gaze making me tremble with the shadows that danced in it.  

“I’m tired, Liam. I need to wake up early for work tomorrow.” He clicked his tongue, letting go of me roughly, nearly making me fall down the stairs.  

“That place pays peanuts. How do you expect us to live off the scraps you earn?” His smile widened. He leaned in, bringing his face closer to mine. “You have a lot of potential to make good money, little sister. I can introduce you to some friends.”  

Diane’s laughter echoed through the house, sending a shiver of fear down my spine. My legs trembled as Liam tightened his grip, pulling me closer to him. The smell of cigarette smoke hit me, the thick haze surrounding us. Translucent hands with long fingers seemed to reach for my throat.  

“Don’t be silly, Liam. Our Lilian can’t get dirty.”  

I yanked my arm free with force, escaping Liam’s grasp. I clutched the watch on my wrist, trying to calm my mind as I hurriedly climbed the stairs.  

As I ascended, the creaking of the floorboards echoed like a lament, and I overheard them arguing. Diane wanted a share of the money Liam had gotten from one of his girlfriends, but he refused to give it to her, saying he was late for a date.  

With my hand on the doorknob of my room, the smell of Diane’s cigarette smoke filling the hallway, I heard her yell downstairs. “It’s all that wretched James’ fault. If he hadn’t left us with that pittance, we’d be living like royalty.” The tone of disdain, the utter disrespect Diane had for my father’s memory, made my blood boil.  

I touched the watch on my wrist, feeling the pain of loss, and turned around, ready to throw everything away and confront her, but my legs froze when she continued speaking. “At least that little whore will finally be useful for something. That guy paid a good price for her, and we’ll be able to enjoy life more, as we deserve.”  

My blood seemed to freeze in my veins.  

I covered my mouth with my hand and took a few steps back, hitting the hallway wall with my back. I slid down, sitting on the dusty, dirty carpeted floor. A tear rolled down my cheek, panic swelling in my chest.  

I had a terrible feeling.  

Something was about to happen to me, and I couldn’t imagine how much more my life could change.