All Chapters of ECHOES OF THE PAST : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The first thing I feel is warmth. A heavy, familiar weight draped over my waist. A soft breath against my neck. For a moment, I almost convince myself it’s just another nightmare. But nightmares don’t feel this real.My eyes snap open.The ceiling above me isn’t the white sterile hospital ceiling I expected.It’s the pale beige ceiling of our old apartment. The one we lived in years ago, when I still believed Evan and I had a future. The curtains flutter in the soft morning breeze from the cracked window. The cheap clock on the nightstand ticks steadily, just like it did when we couldn’t afford anything better.My heart slams against my ribs.Evan’s arm is wrapped tightly around me, his chest pressed against my back. His breathing is slow, even. He’s asleep.I don’t move. I can’t. I just stare at the wall, trying to understand how I went from bleeding on the floor of a ball room to this. No, this isn't real. I shift slightly, testing the weight of his arm. His hand twitches but doesn’

I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. He’s still standing there across the street, leaning casually against the lamppost like he has nowhere else to be. His black suit absorbs the weak light, but his eyes don’t. They lock on me like he can see through the thin curtain, through the walls, straight into my skull. He lifts the phone to his ear again. My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I glance at Evan. He’s still asleep, his arm draped carelessly over the sheets. Oblivious. I grab my phone, hands shaking a little. The screen lights up with a new message. Come outside. My throat tightens. No name, no number, just those two words. My first instinct is to ignore it. But then another message arrives before I can even put the phone down. Before he wakes up. I look at Evan again. His chest rises and falls, steady and calm. The man who killed me sleeps like he’s never done anything wrong. This is insane. I should call the police. I should scream. I should do anything except go outside. But

She refuses to die. I want her buried with no traces to me. Evan says. Five thousand dollars? He asks the gang of men sitting at a round table. They all glanced at one another. Fifty thousand dollars! One of them responded. That's too much just to bury a person. Ten thousand and no more! Evan stands to leave. We are not just burying your corpse, we are burying your damn dirty secrets without leaving any traces. One of them says. He pauses and tilts his head to the left and right. Fifty thousand dollars. Clean job, no trace. Evan says frowning. Damian looks from afar, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses to conceal his stitched eye brow. Evan walks away like a warrior who had just conquered a battle. He walks past Damian confidently with his shoulders puffed up. Damian breezes away from him a little. He couldn't see Damian. What the hell? Damian says. He brings out his phone and sends Aria a text. Get ready, he is trying to bury you very soon. Damian walks away. A click- Aria

I didn't sleep after that call. How could I?I keep staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows move across the room. My mind kept replaying that voice. Deep, Calm and Knowing.*Someone who knows what you can do.*What did I do? Read minds? Come back from the dead? What else was there?The sun started creeping through the curtains. I heard Evan groan from the living room, then footsteps shuffling toward the bathroom. The shower turned on.I stayed in bed, pretending to be asleep.Evan comes into the bedroom, dripping wet with just a towel around his waist. He grabs his clothes from the closet and got dressed fast. Too fast, like he was in a hurry.A click- It's morning already and the night seemed so short.He glanced at me on the bed. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing steady.A click- Where's this donkey brain? I hope she doesn't catch Emma and I. She'll be mad at me but what can she do? She told me she was going to see Lena and hasn't returned since then.Wait. What?I kept my e

The restaurant is small, tucked away on a quiet street where most people wouldn't notice it. The kind of place that served decent food without asking questions.Damian Cole sits in the corner booth, his back to the wall. He always sat with his back to the wall. Old habit. Hard to break.He orders black coffee and stares out the window at the rain starting to fall. The city looks grey. Tired. Like it is carrying too much weight.The bell above the door chimed.A man walks in. Young. Maybe mid-twenties. He looks exhausted. His clothes were worn, his shoes scuffed. He carried himself like someone who'd forgotten what it felt like to be alive.Because he had.Damian watch him shuffle to a table near the window. The man sits down heavily, like his bones hurt.The waitress comes over. "What can I get you, hon?""French pies and ketchup," the man says quietly. "And water. Just water."She nodded and walks away.Damian studied him. There is something familiar about the way he moves. The way