I take the keys out of my pocket and open the door. The pink bag is on the table, next to the black marker I’ve used to write Ava’s name. I grab the bag and look around the room, mentally checking everything I need to take with me. Keys, wallet, phone, gift. This time, I have everything.
I head towards the door, giving myself a last glance in the mirror. The bag slips away from my hand as my mouth opens in surprise. A familiar handwriting is spread across the mirror in the same black ink on Ava's bag. Don’t go.
"Hello?" I yell into the hallway, waiting for some mysterious figure to come out and take accountability. But there’s no answer.
I walk around the flat, opening and peeping inside every door on my way. Everything looks the same, with no signs of anyone else being here. I look at the keys in my hand, almost sure I turned them twice before coming in. Or was it just once? I was in a rush when I left, so did I lock the door? Or did it just close behind me?
I jump as my phone rings, bringing me back from all my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Lily, where are you?”
“I’m on my way.
“You said that-” I hang up before Ava can continue.
I look around once again before heading towards the door. Everything is just like I left it, apart from the message I don't remember writing. I grab a paper towel from the kitchen and wipe the mirror before leaving. Keys, wallet, phone, gift. I take a deep breath as I make sure to lock the door behind me.
Ava's house is only a few blocks away and as soon as I turn the corner, I see the cars parked up and down the street, leading all the way to her yard. A couple sits on her front porch, sharing a cigarette between them. I give them a nod as I knock on the door. Ava greets me from inside, her hair up in a ponytail. Her smile goes from ear to ear, and I can tell she's had a few drinks already.
She points to the chair by the door, where at least 10 coats are piled up. I move my keys to my jeans pocket and drop my red jacket on top of the others. The stereo makes it hard to hear anything, but she still mouths a thank you when I hand her the gift bag.
Ava grabs my hand and pulls me to the living room, reminding me of when we were in school. She'd always drag me around the playground, so we’d be the first ones on the swings.
On my right, an improvised dance floor, where people move unsynchronised under a disco light. To the left, two couches are placed next to each other, making everyone trying to squish in look like canned sardines. I turn to my friend to make a joke, but she’s been taken away by a couple of girls who, if I had to guess, have had even more to drink.
I head towards the table in the corner of the room, reaching for a can of Kopparberg. I take a sip as I look around, trying to name the faces around me. I half know some of them from university and a few others from our hometown. The rest, I’ve never seen before. As I turn around, something stops my arm, making me spill the rest of my cider over my shirt.
“Ah, fuck.” I murmur under my breath.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.”
A man stands in front of me, an apologetic look spread across his face. His hair is short and rises into a deep brown curly high top. He’s wearing a jumper over a button-up shirt, making him look slightly out of place. He reaches for the napkins on the table.
“It’s alright, don’t worry."
I push my way around the crowd and up the stairs, turning left towards Ava’s bedroom. Her bed stands spotlessly in the middle of the room, matching the pink walls around it. I walk towards the closet and grab one of her shirts, throwing my wet one on the floor. I turn towards the mirror and tuck it inside my jeans. Leave.
I bring my hand to the glass. The pink ink stains my fingers because it hasn’t dried yet. I frown an eyebrow at the situation, not understanding what's happening. I rush down the stairs in between all the people sitting on it. Ava is standing at the bottom and waves when she notices me, a big grin on her face.
“Was anyone in your room?”
“It’s the one on the left!”
“I know that, but did anyone go there?”
She’s not listening, and a sigh leaves my mouth when I realise. Her eyes wander towards the crowd. After a few seconds, she’s waving her arms up and trying to scream over the music.
"Have you met Eric yet?"
A light-skinned man walks in our direction, and I immediately recognise his outfit. Eric gives me a straight smile, I give him a nod back. She continues the conversation, not realising we met a few minutes ago and not in the best circumstances.
Her speech is not very coherent, but from what I can gather in between drunk hiccups, Eric is one of her co-workers. He plays the guitar and hopes to be a songwriter. But for now, he gets to manage the playlist playing at our local Starbucks.
The three of us spend the rest of the night together, since Ava doesn't seem to be able to stand on her own. When everyone finally leaves, I take her to her room. I drag her inside just enough for her body to fall on the bed. Within seconds, she's fast asleep. I grab a wipe from one of her self-care boxes and clean the message still on the mirror.
I’m awakened by the sound of my ringtone going off. The sun is shining through my curtains, and I would be awake hours ago if it wasn’t for the massive headache. I take my arm out of the blanket and reach for the phone on the bedside table, unknown number.
“Hello?”
"Hi, it's Eric. We've met last night?"
"Hi, Eric," I reply, slightly annoyed Ava gave him my number.
After a few seconds, I finally get up and grab paracetamol from one of the drawers on my desk. Eric is still talking, but I can't pay attention to what he's saying. I swallow the pill with a sip of water while he rambles something about a park.
“Sure.”
“Cool! I’ll pick you up at 5?”
The clock on my desk marks 2 o’clock, so I agree before hanging up. I go back to bed and try to sleep the headache off, hoping it’ll be gone by the time I wake up.
I'm awake around 4, giving me just enough time to eat something before getting ready. Eric texts me once he's outside. As I make my way to the door, the black letters on the mirror catch my attention, and I can't help but wonder how they got there. I remember cleaning them yesterday. At least, I think I do, but I can't be sure of it. I grab a paper towel from the kitchen and make a mental note that I did clean the mirror this time.
Eric is waiting by the door, a big smile spread across his face. He doesn't tell me what he has planned and calls it a surprise, even though I recognise the walk to the park immediately. It doesn’t take us more than 5 minutes to get there.
Both gates are fully open and when we make our way down the street, the tall trees shelter us from the sound of the rush hour behind us. On both sides, families picnic along the grass and the kid's laughs are now the only sound to be heard. Ahead of us, I can spot a few stalls with what appear to be books and... jars?
“Is this a flea market?” I frown an eyebrow as we get closer.
“Would that be something you like?” Eric gives a smile.
“Guess it depends on what we can find.”
We walk along the path narrowed by all the stalls, filled with vintage houseware and old furniture. I look around one of the book piles and reach for a first edition of The Lottery by Shirley Jackson. The pages are yellow, and the cover visibly worn out, but I flip through the book to find the inside almost as good as new. Some quotes are highlighted by a single pencil line.
“Have you seen the Silence of the Lambs?” I frown an eyebrow at Eric, and he points towards the book in my hand, "seems up your street."
“Actually no, I haven’t.”
“We need to fix that." He turns his attention to the lady behind the table, "we'll take the book, please."
Eric hands her his card, making sure I'm unaware of the price. If I had to guess, I'd say 3 digits, as first editions can be ridiculously expensive. The lady hands him the card back and I thank him, to which he responds with a wink.
His house is on the other side of the park, making us almost neighbours. We walk down the fair and leave through the green gate, opposite to the one we entered through. His house is visible from there, and once inside, I notice one of the windows faces the exact place we were at. You can see all the stalls and everyone around them like we never left.
“Right, I’ll get my laptop. There should be some pizza in the freezer? Top shelf.” He says before heading to the hallway.
The kitchen and the living room share the same space, and that’s where he leaves me. On the left are a sofa and a coffee table opposite to a tv stand with drawers. On my right, is the kitchen side, with a little table and two chairs in the middle.
I walk towards the freezer and open the first drawer. There's a plastic bag that I move to the floor. I’m left with a few boxes, but none of them is big enough to have a pizza. I grab the bag back, the plastic is too fogged to see inside, but I can feel what seems to be a sausage. I follow the texture with my hand, leading me to a bigger piece of whatever it is.
I take a quick look at the hallway, Eric is still inside his room. I rush to the sink and run the bag under hot water. As the ice melts, it becomes clear I’m looking at a hand, if not more.
I drop the bag instantly, making a loud noise as it bangs against the sink. A million tiny pieces of ice stand around it, and I can't help but wonder if the inside is broken as well.
"I said shelf, not drawer," Eric says, and I hear him place the laptop on one of the tables.
I turn around as he’s getting closer. I manage to catch him grabbing the knife on the counter, and he gives me a smile when our eyes meet. There's no fight or flight response, I simply stand by the sink, awaiting his next move. But I’m quite sure I’m about to die.
“Don’t worry,” his voice is soft, reassuring. I’d even say relaxing if it wasn’t for the circumstances. "I’ll be quick.”
He rushes towards me, and after a single swing, I already feel the blood rushing out. The room is spinning around me, and my body is suddenly too heavy. As my head hits the floor, the pain becomes excruciating. I close my eyes as hard as I can, in a failed attempt to stop it.
When I finally open them again, I’m home. I touch my chest, but it seems like nothing happened. The sun is outside, shining through the living room curtain. It’s a lovely day.
On the table, a pink gift bag, Ava's gift bag. The bedroom door opens, and I walk to the hallway. Except it's not me because I am standing by the gift bag. Yet, there I am, grabbing my red jacket, prepared to head outside.
I scream as loud as I can, but I’m unfazed, she is. She can’t hear a single thing and leaves unbothered, on her way to ruin our top and meet Eric. I sit on the floor and let the tears roll down my face. Is this hell? Am I meant to be stuck here, forever doomed to just see myself die over and over again?
I rest my head on the table leg, making the marker roll to the floor. I sigh as I pick it up. And as I do, I look down at my hands. I just grabbed the marker. I’m holding it in my hands right now. That means I’m not totally useless. The gift bag is still on the table, she needs to come back for it.
I rush to the door. What would I do before leaving? My eyes stop in the mirror. I no longer have a reflection. My existence has been reduced to the most basic pen I own. I hold the marker to the mirror and pray for it to work, as I write
Don’t go.