II

The Los Angeles twilight sky turns dark as our car pulls up in front of an elite beachside club. Blue neon lights flickering in the shape of Ecliptica reflected in the puddles on the sidewalk.

Heavy bass echoed before the car door opened, welcoming us to another world of noise and escapism.

Megan grasped my arm gently as I got out of the car. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" I could catch the concern in her tone.

I didn't answer. I pulled my black coat tighter around my body before walking to the entrance. Ashley followed behind since she looked at me worriedly while hugging her small bag.

A doorman in a black suit gave us one look and recognized Megan. He opened the rope without saying anything, letting us inside. Once through the heavy doors, it was like we had entered another dimension—deafening music, flashing strobe lights, and a crowd dancing in the dark like living shadows. The smell of cocktails and expensive perfume mingled in the air.

I took off my coat and handed it to Ashley, who accepted it hesitantly.

"I need a drink," I muttered.

Megan opened her mouth to say something, but I was already moving towards the bar, leaving them behind.

The bartender, a young man in a fitted black shirt, looked at me with a professional smile. "What can I make for you?"

"The strongest one you've got," I said without hesitation.

He nodded and started mixing drinks while I stared into the large mirror behind him. My reflection stared back at me—tired eyes with smudged mascara and frizzy brown hair even though I had tried to tidy it up before coming here. I barely recognized the woman in the reflection.

"Here," the bartender said, handing me a dark red liquid.

I nodded in thanks and took a drink. It burned my throat, but that was precisely what I was looking for. I needed something to burn off all this pain, at least for tonight.

I turned away from the bar and walked towards the dance floor, letting the music and the crowd pull me in. Megan and Ashley tried to catch up with me, but I motioned for them to stop.

I didn't want to be watched, not tonight. The lights shimmered above, creating confusing patterns in the air. The people around me danced carefree, their faces blurred by the effects of light and darkness.

I closed my eyes, letting my body move to the beat.

Some men tried to get closer, but I ignored them. I'm not here for that.

I was here to forget and get rid of all the frustration, anger, and sadness that had haunted me since this morning—letting the adrenaline mix with the alcohol that was beginning to warm my body.

But amidst the commotion, another voice popped into my head. Louder than the music, sharper than the strobe lights.  James's words came back to me. "You’re a poison."

My steps slowed down. The hands around me felt too close, the lights too bright. My breathing began to shorten as the air around me suddenly disappeared. I stepped back, tripping and almost falling.

Megan appeared out of nowhere and caught my arm. "Enough, Maya," she said in a stern tone. "You're not okay."

Ashley soon came over with a glass of water, pushing it into my hand.

I stared at the two of them, trying to say something, but no words came out. My breathing was still labored, and my chest felt like it was filled with broken glass.

Megan led me off the dance floor, through the crowd, to the open balcony at the back of the club. The cool night air touches my skin, helping to calm my wild heartbeat.

The waves breaking on the beach in the distance sounded more soothing than the music inside. I sat on the chair, bringing my knees up to my chest, letting my head rest on my hands.

Ashley sat next to me, patting my back gently, while Megan stood by the railing.

"You can't go on like this, Maya," Megan said softly.

I didn't answer. I still had my eyes closed, and my vision was still blackened.

Megan was right, of course. But what else could I do? The world had already decided that I was poison, and I was beginning to feel that they might be right.

>>>> 

The dance floor felt increasingly suffocating, the air heavy with a mixture of perfume, sweat, and alcohol. I decided to get out of the crowd. With a simple excuse to Ashley and Megan that I needed to use the restroom, I slipped away, letting the sound of the bass fade behind me.

The restroom in this club was much cleaner than I had imagined. The bright white lights were dazzling, contrasting with the dim light outside. I went into one of the booths, trying to calm myself down.

When I was done, I stood before the large mirror, smoothing out my slightly smudged makeup. My lips were deep red, almost too noticeable tonight. I glanced at my tired eyes, faint dark circles that even the expensive foundation didn't fully cover. I try to smile. The result was strange. The smile is too stiff, too fake.

The sound came suddenly—a loud bang that made my heart stop beating for a moment.

A gunshot.

The loud bang rattled the walls, echoing throughout my body. My heart seemed to jump, racing faster than the rhythm of the music I had just left behind.

I stood transfixed for a few seconds, hands gripping the sink, my body rigid.

My head screamed to leave, run toward the exit, call Megan or Ashley, and leave this place as quickly as possible. But my body was moving in the other direction, whether by instinct or stupidity.

My feet began to move slowly but surely, leaving the bright mirror and entering the dark, narrow hallway.

The sound of my steps was barely audible on the cold tile floor. The hallway felt like another world, far away from the glittering lights of the club and the ear-piercing bass noise. A musty odor and something vaguely metallic began to prick my nose.

I held my breath, hoping my sense of smell was wrong.

At the end of the hallway, a wooden door was slightly ajar. A dim light shone out from its crack, like an invitation too dangerous to ignore. I paused, trying to hear anything. There was only a heavy silence, so quiet that my heartbeat sounded deafening.

I approached slowly, my body coming to life on its own terms, dismissing the violent instincts screaming in panic inside my head. An acrid smell instantly infiltrated my senses when the door slowly opened. Blood.

The room was small and gloomy, with damp walls and black patches here and there. In the center, a man lay, his body folded at an unnatural angle. Blood pooled beneath him, dark red and shiny, spreading like an abstract painting over the concrete floor.

I gasped, the air in my lungs suddenly vanishing. My feet seemed planted in place, unable to move backward or forward. But my eyes... my eyes could not look away.

Then I saw HIM.

He stood in front of the lifeless man, tall and immovable. He was the one who came out of my worst nightmare.

His neat black suit was now stained with blood. His right hand clutched a pistol, the barrel still smoking lightly, while his fingers stained a striking red shade.

His face was cold, so calm that it made my body shiver more than the coldness of the room.

He lifted his head slowly like he knew I was here before I even appeared. Those dark eyes stared at me—eyes that I once remembered being so intense, so full of obsession.

I wanted to scream, but my voice caught in my throat. I tried to run, but my legs seemed frozen.

"Maya," he says, his voice low, almost a whisper, but each letter feels like a fresh shot in this room.

Aaric Bernardi.