War of the Wave

• Prologue : A blurry mystery •

I groan as I try to open my eyes. The sun crawls into my room. I try to unravel the faded memories of last night. My head starts to spin. Those last fucking shots of tequila were not a good catch on my empty stomach. I can tell.

As I try to piece together the night before, disjointed images flash in my mind: a door slamming, muffled voices, and a sensation of cold air on my skin. My stomach burns, but I can't grasp why.

I put all my strength into my palms as I try to sit up. Fighting the heavy burn of my hangover. A bright red strand of hair catches my eye, tangled around my finger. My heart skips a beat. Where did this come from? The strand is darker, richer than my own soft orange hair, almost like blood in the sunlight. It couldn't be mine. But if not mine, then whose – before I can dwell on it, my phone rings, the familiar tune of my favorite medieval pirate song breaking the silence. I groan loudly. Where is that stupid thing?

My head spins as I fumble through the blankets, finally grabbing my phone from where it's buried.

Silence fills the room once again. Insinuating, I missed the call. I look at my lock screen, surprised by the fact I don't see the usual picture of me and Sorin, my best friend. But instead I find a photo of me dancing next to a random girl. A beautiful girl I might add.

I stared at it, trying to recall who she was. Her hair was bright red and tucked into a bun. The dress she was wearing was absolutely stunning. A forest green backless halter neck. The way it fit traced her dainty body perfectly. How could I not remember such a goddess? Could the hair be from her?

After I stared at the photo for what feels like an eternity, I finally noticed the missed call that flashed on my screen. A number I don't remember. Not that I'm good at remembering phone numbers. But this one doesn't ring a bell at all.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to call back the mystery number that tried to get my attention not even minutes before.

I get my lazy ass out of bed and start my way towards the bathroom door. A pit of unease settles in my stomach as I shuffle to my bathroom. For some reason I can't shake the feeling that I'm about to discover something I'd rather not know, like the air is charged with a storm I can't see right now. Almost falling over my sneakers, I somehow managed to get there without receiving a new bruise.

Staring at the mirror above my sink. My breath catches in my throat as I lean closer to the mirror. A small purple mark stands out against my pale skin. A shiver runs down my spine. What the fuck happened last night? I trace them with my finger. How – why – Who? Questions fill my head with concern.

I was never the type to go out or have one-night stands. I rarely even drink. But yesterday was different, why was it different?

Why can't I remember? I never drink this much so why did I last night? The memory is out of reach, like a shadow that keeps slipping through my fingers.

My heart starts pounding faster as I grip onto my sink. The frustration gnaws at me, but it's the unease that really gets under my skin. It feels like something lurking just out of sight, waiting to be discovered, and I'm not sure I am ready to face it yet.

My hair was a mess, and I needed a shower. I turn the knobs to the hottest temperature as I begin to undress. The steam begins to billow out and fill the room by the time I walk towards it. I stop in my tracks as I see a figure in the steam. His appearance... I knew him. The way he leaned against the wall, his posture was so familiar. My mind just couldn't figure it out and just like that, he disappeared just as fast as I saw him.

What?