Chapter Three
Renata
With my heart pounding and a chill racing down my spine, I hit dial, only for it to ring endlessly before falling into the abyss of voicemail.
I try again, and again, frustration bubbling as the same empty tone echoes in my ears. Finally, I surrender, my finger hovering over the delete button, erasing the mystery that came cloaked in dread. Surely, whoever sent that cryptic message wouldn't leave me hanging for long.
As I take a step forward, I try to shake off the unsettling weight pressing against my chest, determined to push past the uneasy sensations swirling within me.
The sun beats down on me like it's trying to sear my soul, casting an orange glow over the chaos below.
Sweat clings to my dress like a bad habit, and my face is slick with it, trickling into every crevice like an unwelcome guest. The cacophony of car horns and chatter is an annoyance, with people shouting greetings like they're trying to make small talk at a bad party.
I'm over it.
I just want to escape, to find a quiet corner to collect my thoughts and process the lost feeling that's currently hijacking my emotions. But my brain's all, "Hey, good luck with that, memory's a distant memory."
I walk on autopilot, my legs carrying me forward while my mind is stuck in neutral. And then, suddenly. . . silence. I look up to find myself on a deserted street, palm trees towering above me like sentinels. The houses are tiny, cluttered, and worn, with mailboxes that look like they've been through a war.
It's all a bit. . . unsettling.
I shiver, despite the heat, and my eyes land on the ultimate kicker: a dead end.
Lovely.
Just what I needed. A physical manifestation of my current life situation.
I debate calling Liam, but my pride puts up a good fight. Until reality slaps me in the face: I have nowhere to go.
And Liam? He's the one who left me here, high and dry, knowing full well I'm struggling to remember my own name. Irresponsible doesn't even begin to cover it. Cruelty looks good on him.
Rage simmers beneath my surface, threatening to erupt into a full-blown inferno at any moment. I try to tamp it down, but it's like trying to contain a wildfire.
"I see you came back!" someone shouts, and I spin around, expecting to see. . . well, someone. But all I get is a face full of palm trees, their branches warring for dominance like they're trying to outdo each other in some sort of botanical battle royale.
I shield my eyes from the sun's glare, which seems to have decided to make a special appearance once again. As I walk forward, the branches part like a curtain, revealing a woman.
She's sitting pretty in a rocking chair, wide-brimmed hat and all, with a smile that can charm anyone. And she's alone. Utterly, completely alone.
My gaze wanders, searching for the person she's talking to, but nope, it's just her. And then our eyes meet, and her smile grows wider.
Chills dance up and down my spine as she calls out, "Holla, Isabella, come on in, let's have a chat."
I do a 360° spin, just to make sure I'm not missing someone hiding behind a palm tree or something, but nope, it's just me and my shadow. This woman is either hallucinating or she's in serious need of a straitjacket.
I'm betting on the latter.
Something is unsettling about her, something that makes me want to both flee and investigate further. I take a deep breath, and my feet seem to move of their own accord, carrying me towards her compound like I'm in some sort of trance.
I stop when I'm two paces away from her and spin around, just to confirm what I already know - I'm alone with her, with only my shadow for company.
The woman, however, seems utterly convinced I'm the guest she's been waiting for.
I'm bored, and let's face it - I have nothing else to do, so I approach her with a mix of curiosity and caution, my eyes scanning her for any visible signs of.... let's say, instability. Her outfit is tidy, if a bit worn, and she carries herself with a certain air of dignity.
I'm about to chalk her up as a charming eccentric when she fixes me with a knowing smile. "You think I'm not all there in the head, don't ya?"
Ah, perceptive.
I hadn't realized my poker face was so. . . transparent. "Well, let's just say I'm keeping an open mind," I reply, trying to sound suave.
She chuckles, a warm, throaty sound, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe she's more sane than I am. "You're wrong," she says, her eyes glinting with amusement. "You're perfectly sane, just confused, and rightly so."
I raise an eyebrow, impressed despite myself. "You can read minds, I presume?"
She laughs again, and I get the feeling she's enjoying this little exchange. "No, just paying attention." Her smile never wavers. "You've come a long way, Isabella."
Ah, there it is again - that name.
I tilt my head, curious. "Why do you keep calling me that?" My voice is a little sharper than I intended.
Her smile widens, and she says, "Because it's your name."
I blink, taken aback. "Wrong! My name is Renata."
"No, dear, that's actually the name of the host body you're in," she announces with such a straight face that I immediately bust out into laughter, my earlier upset forgotten.
Okay, lady, you're definitely intriguing, but whatever it is you're selling, I'm definitely not in the mood to buy.
She sees my expression and sits up straighter in her chair, like she's about to deliver a grand revelation or something.
Looks like I made a grave mistake after all. She's obviously not well in the head.
You're just scared, you coward. A small voice whispers in my ear.
Oh, yes, I'm scared, I whisper back. How does she know what's going on in my mind? It's not like I'm broadcasting it on a megaphone.
You'll never know unless you ask. The voice whispers back, sounding smug.
"If you leave, you'll never know the reason why you can't remember who you are," the woman says, locking her gaze onto mine as if she has the secret code to a treasure chest of memories.
Then she does something I definitely don't expect. She stands up and flashes me a dark look. "Follow me!"
That wasn't a plea. It was an order. I scoff out loud. Oh, sure, because following her into who-knows-where sounds like a fun afternoon. But even as that rebellious thought sails into my mind, my feet are already taking matters into their own hands and trailing after her like a loyal puppy.
She stops at the threshold of her doorstep and glances back, probably checking to see if I'm still playing along, but I know she already knows I am. I look past her, and my eyes widen as the reality of my impending bad decision sinks in.
Beyond the door, lies darkness. Like, serious "I forgot my flashlight" level darkness.
I want to go back. I really do. Who in their right mind walks into this? But my rebellious feet have teamed up with a case of curiosity as they drag me deeper into the yawning abyss.
The moment I step inside, disorientation hits me, and panic spikes, but back down? Not on my watch.
There's a rustle of movement, a whisper of clothing, a faint hissing sound, and suddenly, I can see shapes. I blink, trying to adjust my eyes to the dimness of the interior before me.
I'm in a small, cramped sitting room that looks like it hasn't seen a cleaning service since the last ice age. A bookshelf precariously stands against one wall, books jutting out like they're trying to escape. The rest of the room has three mismatched chairs that seriously have no business being in the same space, and in the center is a small circular table with a lonely, flickering candle, because obviously, she didn't think to get some proper lighting.
My eyes swing back to hers, but she's already watching me like I'm an animal in a zoo. She smirks and dramatically removes her hat, revealing a shock of short, dark brown hair. She rakes a hand through it before plopping down in one of those sad chairs and belting out, "Sit down!"
Once again, not a request. I shake my head. "Thank you, but I'd rather stand and risk the chance of falling over."
She shrugs, clearly unbothered, and says nothing. I bet she's just waiting for me to break and ask a question. I wouldn't want to disappoint her, now would I?
"Why--?"
"You came back for revenge," she says, sitting up straighter, her eyes piercing me with an intense inner light.
All my senses immediately heighten at her words. Even though I don't understand a lick of what she just said, I keep quiet and listen, knowing full well there's more.
I wait for exactly five heartbeats, expecting more words to flow, but when she remains quiet, I get irritated. "What are you talking----?"
"Your soul has been wandering around for five years, Isabella, looking for an opportunity, for a way to come back."
I can't help it; my lips twist into a smirk. All the pent-up anger fizzles out as I throw my head back and laugh loudly. Seriously, this has got to be the funniest joke in the book.
Once I've had my fill and the tears of laughter seep from the corners of my eyes, I shake my head. "Honestly, ma'am, I don't know if other people are buying your hocus pocus. . . but let me save you the breath: whatever it is you're selling, I'm not interested. Magic tricks belong in circuses."
I scoff and turn around, ready to walk away, when her voice sails over to me once more.
"You woke up suddenly in a restaurant without having any recollection of who you are. You are confused, angry, and distraught, and you feel abandoned."
I freeze in my tracks but don't turn around. Alright, she's definitely on to something. But honestly, anyone with eyes could have seen I was lost on the street.
Okay, but how did she figure out where I was hanging out earlier?
Lucky guess?
No. I don't think so.
I take a deep breath, letting out a dramatic sigh before I finally turn around and shoot her a pointed look. "What do you know?"
She flashes a wide grin. "Sit down and I'll tell you."
With a heavy heart and a roll of my eyes, I strut back and plop down into the lumpy chair directly across from her.
I really hope I don't regret this little tête-à-tête.