Chapter 3 — The Letter in the Drawer

Nara

The rain hasn’t stopped since I arrived at The Haven. Its relentless rhythm filters through the walls, a somber backdrop that burrows into everything. I sit cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by fragments of my scattered life. Books, a chipped mug, a faded photograph of my mother—they’re breadcrumbs tying me to pieces of myself I’m no longer sure I recognize.

I pick up the photograph, holding it gently as though her warm smile could shatter under my touch. Her eyes meet mine, soft yet searching, and I feel the familiar ache of longing swell in my chest. My fingers drift to the key pendant around my neck, its cool surface grounding me. The swirling patterns seem to shift under my thumb, like a secret just out of reach.

The kitchen is next on my mental list. I cross the sterile expanse of the living room, my boots tapping softly against the polished floor. The sound is swallowed by the steady hum of the rain. The cabinets gleam beneath the dim lighting, their pristine surfaces too perfect, too cold to feel like mine.

I start unpacking a mismatched collection of utensils, the clatter unnervingly loud in the stillness. A knife slips and clangs against the counter, making me wince. I pause, listening. The silence returns, heavier now, pressing against my ears. Shaking my head, I focus on organizing, trying to ignore the prickling unease spreading through my skin.

One drawer catches my attention. It’s slightly ajar, its imperfect symmetry jarring against the otherwise flawless kitchen. My fingers hover over the edge, my pulse quickening. Slowly, I pull it open.

Inside, a yellowed envelope sits alone, incongruous against the sleek, modern lines of the drawer. My breath catches. The sight of it stirs something deep and unspoken, the edges of a memory brushing against my thoughts. The envelope looks fragile, its corners curled like it’s been handled too many times.

I hesitate, my heart pounding. A small voice in my head whispers to leave it alone, but my fingers move on their own, trembling slightly. The paper feels rough and brittle under my touch, as though it might crumble if I’m not careful. There’s no name, no markings—only the faint scent of old paper mingled with something sharper, metallic. With a deep breath, I peel it open.

The note inside is scrawled in a hurried, uneven hand, the ink smudged in places. My eyes skim the words, and the ground seems to shift beneath me.

*"The deal was a mistake. They’re hunting. If anything happens to me, find the boy. He’s the key."*

The boy.

My body goes cold. The words blur as my thoughts spiral. And then, like a flash of lightning, a memory strikes: a boy with piercing blue eyes. Dirt smudged across his cheeks, his small hand gripping mine with desperate strength. His terrified whisper: *“Run.”*

The room tilts around me as my knees hit the floor. I clutch the note tightly, as though it might vanish if I let go. My breathing quickens, every word on the paper digging into me. *The boy. He’s the key.* My thumb brushes over the pendant at my neck, the edges biting into my skin. Could it mean… him? The boy from that night? But how?

I read the note again, slower this time, willing the words to reveal something more. *The deal. Hunting. Key.* The phrases swirl chaotically in my mind, fragments of a puzzle I can’t quite piece together. Who left this? Was it meant for me? Or did someone forget it here, unaware of the storm it would unleash?

The steady drumbeat of the rain grows louder, a hollow rhythm against the windows. My eyes dart toward the door, half expecting someone to burst through. But the hallway beyond remains silent, the earlier flicker of the lights now steady. Still, the unease tightens around me, sharp and suffocating.

I shove the note back into the drawer and slam it shut harder than I mean to. The sound reverberates through the apartment, making me flinch. My fingers grip the edge of the counter, desperate for something solid. The walls feel closer now, the air heavier, pressing against me.

The scent of cologne wafts faintly through the room, so fleeting I could almost believe I imagined it. Almost. My stomach twists. My body moves before my mind catches up, grabbing my coat in a frantic need to escape. I shove my arms into the sleeves and step into the hallway, my footsteps quick and unsteady.

The elevator descends with agonizing slowness. Its faint hum does little to distract me from the pounding of my thoughts. When the doors open to the lobby, the scent of coffee from the café brushes past me. It’s warm, familiar, but it barely blunts the sharp edge of my nerves. The rain outside calls to me, its cold embrace promising clarity. Without a second thought, I push through the glass doors.

The first droplets soak through my coat, chilling my skin, but I don’t care. I need the noise—the rush of cars, the pounding of rain against the pavement—to drown the questions swirling in my mind. *Who is the boy? Why does it feel like I already know him?*

My feet carry me to Greenstone Park without thinking. The towering evergreens loom overhead as I step onto the gravel paths. The air smells of damp pine and wet earth, rich and grounding. A low fog clings to the edges of the park, blurring the world into muted greens and grays. It’s quiet here, too quiet. The occasional rustle of leaves makes me glance over my shoulder, though the paths remain empty.

At the edge of the park, the playground sits abandoned. One swing moves, creaking softly in the breeze. The sound sets my nerves aflame, a chill running down my spine. I stop beneath a tree, leaning against its rough trunk as the rain trickles through the branches above. My hand instinctively finds the pendant again, gripping it tightly. The memory of the boy’s whisper lingers, faint and ghostly. *“Run.”*

A sound pulls me from my thoughts—a branch snapping somewhere behind me. My heart leaps into my throat as I whip around, scanning the shadows. The fog shifts, the edges of the path blurring, but I see nothing. Just the wind brushing through the trees, carrying whispers I can’t quite hear.

The unease claws at me, sharper now. I don’t wait. I turn back toward The Haven, my pace quickening as the rain lashes harder against my face. My fingers curl around the pendant, its familiar weight grounding me, even as my mind spirals. The city’s lights blur through the downpour, but I barely notice them. All I can hear is the echo of the note’s words: *find the boy.*

When I reach my apartment, I lock the door behind me and double-check it, my hands trembling. My clothes cling to me, dripping onto the polished floor, but the chill doesn’t bother me. My eyes dart toward the drawer, the note inside heavy in my mind.

I don’t open it again. Not tonight.

Instead, I collapse onto the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. The rain continues its relentless rhythm against the glass, a steady drumbeat to my racing thoughts.

Alexander’s words creep back into my mind, his low voice curling around the memory like smoke: *“Sometimes the past finds us where we least expect it.”*

I stare at the ceiling, the key pendant pressing against my chest like a weight.

Maybe the past isn’t just finding me.

Maybe it’s been here all along, waiting in the shadows.