Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside my window.

For a moment, I stayed still, my eyes closed, pretending I was somewhere else.

Somewhere simpler.

Somewhere safer.

But the feeling didn’t last long.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, the familiar cracks forming shapes I had traced a hundred times before.

My chest felt heavy.

Another day.

Another day of pretending everything was okay.

I pushed the blanket off and sat up slowly. My body still felt weak, like I hadn't fully woken up inside.

The floor was cold under my feet, but I didn’t bother reaching for my slippers.

I walked to the window and pulled the curtains open.

The sun was hiding today.

Thick grey clouds hung low in the sky, making everything look a little dull, a little tired.

Maybe it matched how I felt inside.

---

Downstairs, the house was already alive with small sounds.

I heard Chris banging around in the kitchen, probably looking for cereal.

The soft hum of the washing machine running.

The faint buzz of the TV playing cartoons.

Normal sounds.

Comforting sounds.

I made my way downstairs, one slow step at a time.

Chris looked up when he saw me.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said with a mouthful of cereal.

I managed a small smile and walked over to grab a glass of water.

“You feeling better?” he asked, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

“A little,” I said quietly.

He nodded like he understood, even though he probably didn’t.

Chris wasn’t the best at emotions, but he always tried.

And I loved him for that.

“You want me to beat up whoever made you sick?” he said, trying to sound tough.

I laughed softly.

“No need. I’m good.”

He gave me a goofy grin and went back to attacking his cereal like it was his worst enemy.

I sat down at the table, sipping my water slowly.

The kitchen smelled like toast and laundry soap.

Mom must have already started the laundry before heading to work.

I glanced at the fridge where she always left little sticky notes.

Today’s note said:

"Don’t forget to eat. Love you."

I smiled faintly.

Mom always tried her best.

Even when things were hard.

Even when she didn’t have all the answers.

---

After breakfast — if you could call half a glass of water breakfast — I decided to go back to my room.

Maybe I could finally finish cleaning my bookshelf.

I grabbed a duster and started with the top shelf, wiping carefully around my old textbooks and notebooks.

Each book I touched felt like a piece of a life that didn’t quite fit me anymore.

Chemistry.

Literature.

History.

All subjects I used to care about.

Now they felt like background noise to a life I couldn’t remember properly.

As I pulled out an old binder, something thin slipped out and floated to the floor.

I bent down and picked it up.

It was a receipt.

I turned it over, frowning.

“Coffee Time Café”

Date: March 4th.

But that didn’t make sense.

March 4th was months before we even moved to London.

I stared at the small slip of paper.

My heart started to race.

There was a small note scribbled on the back, messy and rushed:

"See you soon, N."

N.

For Nell?

For Nora?

For... someone else?

I clutched the receipt tightly.

Another crack in my world.

Another thing that didn’t fit.

---

I sat down heavily on my bed, the receipt still in my hand.

I tried to remember.

Tried to force my mind to reach into the empty spaces.

But there was nothing.

Only flashes.

Only feelings.

I pulled the photo of Alex from under my pillow and placed it beside the receipt.

Two pieces of a puzzle I didn’t even know how to solve.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back.

Crying wouldn’t help.

Crying wouldn’t fix this.

I needed answers.

Even if they scared me.

Even if they hurt.

---

The rest of the morning passed slowly.

I cleaned out the rest of my bookshelf, neatly stacking my books and notebooks.

I vacuumed my room, dusted the windowsills, folded my laundry.

Little tasks.

Little distractions.

Anything to keep my mind from spinning out of control.

Every few minutes, my eyes drifted back to the photo and the receipt lying on my bed.

They sat there like quiet ghosts, waiting for me to face them.

But I wasn’t ready yet.

Not alone.

---

Around noon, Lena texted:

"On my way over. Bringing homework and snacks. Brace yourself."

I smiled despite myself.

Only Lena would think homework and snacks were the perfect cure for a mental breakdown.

I texted back:

"See you soon."

I tucked the photo and receipt back under my pillow carefully.

Not because I didn’t trust Lena.

But because... I wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet.

Not until I understood it better myself.

---

Lena arrived twenty minutes later, bursting through the door like a mini tornado.

“Hey loser!” she shouted from downstairs.

I laughed and called back, “In my room!”

She bounded up the stairs two at a time, carrying a giant tote bag stuffed with books and snacks.

“Okay,” she said, dropping everything onto my bed.

“We’re gonna study, eat junk, and pretend the world isn’t a dumpster fire for a few hours.”

“Sounds good,” I said, sitting cross-legged beside her.

She pulled out packets of cookies, chips, and two giant bottles of soda.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Planning to feed an army?”

“Planning to feed my best friend,” she said, tossing me a bag of sour gummies.

I smiled and opened them, popping one into my mouth.

The sourness made my eyes water, but it was a good kind of pain.

A normal kind.

We started with Chemistry homework.

Balancing equations, solving problems, scribbling answers on worksheets.

I didn’t care about the homework.

I cared about sitting there with Lena, feeling like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t completely broken.

We laughed about stupid jokes.

We complained about Miss Morris’ impossible assignments.

We gossiped about classmates we barely even knew.

For a few hours, it almost felt normal.

Almost.

---

But underneath it all, I could feel the photo and the receipt burning a hole in my mind.

Waiting.

Whispering.

Reminding me that my life wasn’t as normal as it seemed.

That I wasn’t who I thought I was.

That maybe I never had been.

---

When Lena left that evening, the house felt too quiet again.

I sat on my bed, staring at the notebook where I had hidden the photo and the receipt.

I pulled them out slowly, laying them side by side.

Alex’s face stared up at me from the blurry photo.

The messy handwriting on the back of the receipt taunted me:

"See you soon, N."

I traced the words with my finger.

Whoever wrote this...

They knew me.

The real me.

And maybe, just maybe, finding them would help me find myself.

---

Outside, the sky had turned a deep, heavy blue.

The first stars were starting to peek out, tiny and shy.

I pressed the photo and receipt back into my notebook and placed it carefully under my pillow again.

I lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I would start looking for answers.

For real this time.

Even if it scared me.

Even if it hurt.

Because somewhere out there was the truth.

About Alex.

About my memories.

About me.

And I wasn’t going to stop until I found it.