The morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Damian's lavish dining room, casting warm, golden patterns across the polished mahogany table. The delicate clink of silverware echoed in the cavernous space, punctuating the otherwise tense silence that had settled like an unwelcome guest. Elena sat stiffly in her chair, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her glass, her appetite nonexistent. The scent of the freshly prepared breakfast barely registered in her mind, overwhelmed by the weight of the emotions pressing down on her.
Across from her, Nate lounged with the kind of effortless arrogance that seemed stitched into his very being. His dark hair was artfully tousled, his uniform casually rumpled, as if the rules never fully applied to him. He stabbed at his eggs with calculated disinterest before glancing up, his piercing gaze locking onto Elena like a predator sizing up its prey. He enjoyed the power he wielded over her, the vulnerability in her expression making him feel untouchable.
"So, Elena," he began, his voice dripping with mockery masked as casual conversation, "any flashes of brilliance today? Or are we still playing the amnesia card?"
Elena's jaw tightened, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Damian, but he was too absorbed in his own conversation to notice. Damian's wife, sitting at the head of the table, shot Nate a sharp look, but it was nothing more than a weak, unspoken warning. "Nate," said softly, her tone all silk and no substance. It was a token effort to quiet him, but everyone at the table knew it was nothing more than a formality.
Nate only smirked, undeterred by her half-hearted rebuke. He leaned back in his chair, twirling his fork between his fingers as though the entire exchange were a source of amusement. "I'm just curious," he continued, his tone still sweet but laced with venom. "I mean, imagine waking up one day and forgetting everything. Must be convenient, right? No embarrassing secrets, no skeletons in the closet."
Elena could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, and despite herself, she clenched her fists in her lap, willing herself not to react. The words stung more than she cared to admit. What secrets could I be forgetting? The thought flickered in the back of her mind like a shadow just out of reach. She was supposed to be recovering, finding out who she was again, but moments like these made her feel like she was disappearing into nothingness.
Lucas, sitting beside Elena, set his fork down with a little too much force. The clatter drew everyone's attention. His usually warm, easy-going expression was shadowed with irritation. "Knock it off, Nate," he said, his voice sharper than normal.
Nate merely shrugged, his grin widening like he'd won something. He didn't care that Lucas had spoken up—his superiority complex wasn't something easily dented. "Relax, Lucas. Just making conversation." He turned his eyes back to Elena, his gaze lingering for a moment too long, as though daring her to rise to the challenge.
Elena forced a tight smile, unwilling to give Nate the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. Her hands were still clenched beneath the table, but she refused to let him know how much his words hurt. The last thing she needed was to give him a reason to escalate his taunts. She wouldn't let him break her. Not today.
But beneath the surface, his words gnawed at her, echoing through her thoughts. What secrets could I be forgetting? What if I'm not the person I think I am? The thought flickered like a shadow just out of reach, teasing the edges of her fragmented mind. She couldn't shake it.
---
Later at Bellrose High…
The bustling halls of Bellrose High should have been a welcome distraction, but Nate's words echoed in Elena's mind like an unwanted mantra. Her head was swimming with questions she wasn't sure how to answer. She navigated the crowded corridors, clutching her books tightly against her chest as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded. The whispers of the other students, the sidelong glances, it all felt like a cloud of judgment following her everywhere she went. Were they looking at her? Were they talking about her?
It didn't take long to get her answer.
A group of students, all huddled near her locker, quickly scattered when they saw her approach. Their hushed voices carried the faintest trace of laughter, and though they quickly turned their backs, the feeling of being watched lingered like a bitter aftertaste. Elena approached her locker, trying to ignore the prickle of unease crawling up her spine.
As she reached for the handle, she noticed something—an ominous note tucked into the vent of her locker door. It was small and crumpled, clearly wedged there in a hurry. With a hesitant breath, Elena pulled it free, her fingers trembling slightly as she unfolded the piece of paper. The handwriting was jagged, uneven, as if written in a rush.
"You'll never be who you think you are."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Her chest tightened, a knot forming in her throat as the world seemed to narrow around her. She stood there for a moment, staring at the note, struggling to comprehend its meaning. Was it a joke? Or was someone trying to tell her something about herself—something that only made her feel more lost than before?
Her mind raced. Who wrote this? Why? Her stomach churned as the note seemed to mock her, pulling her deeper into her own confusion. Without thinking, she crumpled the paper in her hand and shoved it deep into her bag, hoping no one had seen. But the damage was done. The words were burned into her mind, seeping into the cracks of her fragile sense of self.
She spun around, her heart pounding, only to collide directly with someone.
"Oh, sorry," Nate drawled, not sounding sorry at all. His eyes flicked briefly to her bag where the note was hidden. He tilted his head with an almost exaggerated curiosity. "Did I scare you? You look a little… tense."
Elena glared at him, summoning every ounce of courage she had. She refused to let him see how much his taunts affected her. "What's your problem?" she shot back, her voice steadier than she felt.
Nate leaned in slightly, a smug smile curling at the corners of his lips. His breath was warm against her cheek, and he smelled faintly of cologne and something darker—something predatory. "You're my problem," he said with a quiet menace, his voice like a whisper just for her.
Before she could respond, Lucas appeared, sliding between them like a shield. He stood tall, his posture unyielding as he placed a hand gently on Elena's shoulder. "Back off, Nate," he said, his voice low but firm.
Nate raised his hands in mock surrender, the expression on his face one of feigned innocence. "Just having a friendly chat with our dear cousin." His gaze lingered on Elena for a moment longer, his smirk never fading.
Lucas didn't budge. His eyes locked onto Nate's with a quiet intensity. "Find someone else to bother," he said, his voice still carrying that dangerous edge.
Nate's smile faded, replaced by something colder, something harder. He studied them both for a long moment, and for a second, it seemed as though he might do something—throw a punch, maybe. But instead, he scoffed, an arrogant, dismissive sound that made Elena's stomach tighten in unease.
With a final, lingering look at Elena, he turned on his heel and sauntered down the hall, leaving the two of them standing in the aftermath of his attack.
---
Back at Damian's House—Tensions Boil Over
Dinner that night was a fragile performance of forced politeness. The evening had been scheduled like any other—a display of family unity and wealth for anyone who might be watching. Damian, ever the businessman, discussed business in his usual clipped, controlled manner. His wife chimed in with hollow pleasantries, speaking as if they were the perfect family, always maintaining the illusion of perfection.
Elena picked at her food, the flavors completely lost on her. She wasn't hungry, not when the walls felt like they were closing in. Her mind kept returning to the note, to Nate's cutting words, who wrote that note, are they messing with me or what... Although the flashbacks are coming through but I'm still unable to pick of the fragments of me.