'With that....I love you...'

Chapter One, The Not So Silent Ride Home...

As Aiyah stares out of the subway window, her own reflection stares back at her. It's like looking at a mirror image, a doppelgänger trapped behind a pane of glass. Her sky-colored eyes, usually vibrant and full of life, now seem dull and lifeless. They are like two sapphire gems, their sparkle dimmed by the weight of her thoughts. They stand out starkly against her pale skin, a testament to her inner turmoil. Her black baseball cap is pulled low, casting a long shadow over her face. It hides her expression from the world, a shield against prying eyes. The cap, once a simple accessory, now feels like a protective armor, guarding her vulnerability. Her hair, silky and long, is flipped over her left shoulder. It shines under the harsh subway lights, a cascade of dark waves that contrast with her pale skin. It's a stark reminder of her femininity, a trait that feels incongruous with the harsh reality of her situation. Her face, partially hidden by the black KN95 mask, is a canvas of emotions. Even though half of it is covered, one can still see the tension in her jaw, the slight furrow in her brow. It's a face that has seen too much, felt too much. This reflection, this mirror image, is a stark reminder of who Aiyah is and what she's going through. It's a silent observer, a constant companion in her journey of self-turmoil. Aiyah remained dead silent. Her soft palm supported her head, her elbow had been propped upon the edge of the seemingly never end stretching seats—filled with dirt and the blessing of everyone who's to touch it. She blinked abruptly, her long dark lashes curled up. Her beautiful blue eyes being shaded by the featherlight single, but full strands of gentle hair sewed to her eyelids. She adjusted her black baseball cap to cover more of her eyes and adjusted her black KN95 face mask to cover the bottom half of her face. She breathed softly, her shoulders just slightly moving at how distinct that she's breathed. She remained in her train of thought, the thoughts consumed her whole worth being, as her body relaxed, numbing all other senses. Her index finger of the other hand tapped the bottom of the seat, slowly, mimicking the rhythm of water slowly dripping beneath a faucet. Her soft plump full aflush lips slightly rubbed together; her pink tongue separating them to moisturize them after at least 3-4 minutes. As sights of people rapidly evolved outside the subway, her eyes chased the close and rapid changes. The rhythm of the subway seemed to lull her into a trance, and the bustling cityscape outside the window morphed into the familiar surroundings of her old home. She was no longer a passenger on a train, but a figure collapsed on the floor of a house filled with memories.

"I'm sorry! Just... please! Leave them alone!"

Aiyah said loudly, holding her hand out as if to halt someone's movement. Aiyah was collapsed on the floor, looking up at a figure. She quaked in fear, as blood spilled out her bottom lip, filling her mouth with the metallic red liquid. She hears frantic soulful screams behind her. She looks back, and now she's standing, the door remains open, as she stares at the 8 lifeless corpses piled on top of each other in front of her. As she lay there, the pain in her lip and the taste of blood seemed to pull her into a different time. The walls of her old home faded away, replaced by a chilling scene of eight lifeless bodies. She looks at her palms, and there holds a bat, and all of the corpses are gone, except for one; the male from before. The sight of the corpse was overwhelming, and her mind sought refuge in another memory. She hears a Hispanic male call from behind her. In the dimly lit interior of the house, framed by the open front door, stood a man who was hard to ignore. His bald head, a stark contrast against the darkness, caught the faint light seeping in from outside. His face, roughened by a well-trimmed goatee, held an expression that was both stern and inscrutable. He was dressed simply in a white t-shirt that outlined his muscular build, long black shorts, and tennis shoes. But despite his casual attire, he exuded an undeniable authority.

"Aiyah."

he said, his words echoing off the walls. He cocked his head slightly, motioning towards the door with a sense of urgency. Aiyah, standing at a distance, felt a strange combination of fear and trust towards this man.