SECURED

PARTY.

• CIYA •

Water cascades over my body as I stand under the shower, letting the warmth soak into my aching muscles. The mission is over, and I am back at apartment, but my mind is still racing, replaying every moment.

I closed my eyes, tilting my head back, feeling the water run through my hair, washing away the grime, the sweat, and the blood.

My fingers trace the new scars on my skin, still tender but already a part of me. Each one tells a story-of battles fought, of dangers faced, of moments where I pushed myself beyond what I thought possible.

They're not just marks on my skin; they're symbols of my survival, proof that I'm stronger than I have ever imagined.

My fingers traces the old scar, the one I got on my hand which will never fade away.

one I can't quite remember getting. feeling its roughness under the smoothness of the surrounding skin. It bothers me, this gap in my memory.

But this scar feels like a loose thread, something left unresolved, and it gnaws at me.

I sigh, feeling the weight of that missing memory pressing down in me. Maybe it's better this way, Maybe some things are meant to be forgotten, buried deep where they can't hurt me anymore. But still, the mystery lingers, like an itch I can't scratch.

I finally turnoff the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping myself in a towel. As l look in the mirror, my eyes drift back to that scar, a silent question I can't answer. It's a part of me now, whether I remembers it or not-a reminder that some battles leave marks that even my mind can't hold onto.

I took another sip of my coffee, savoring the warmth as it spreads through me.

As I am looking down from apartment I am staying for tonight.I am going America tomorrow.
This is small village at sea side.

Down by the sea point, I can see a group of women, their silhouettes moving with practiced ease as they tend to their fishing nets.The rhythm of their work, the gentle lapping of the waves, and the distant calls of seabirds create a serene, almost timeless scene.

• • •

I woke up by sound, my senses sharpen instantly as the soft but insistent knock echoed through the quiet night. The darkness of my room felt suddenly alive, every shadow deepened, every sound amplified.

My heart pounded in my chest as I silently slipped out of bed, feet touching the cold floor with practiced stealth.

I moved swiftly, instinctively reaching for the small dagger that I kept hidden beneath my pillow, the cool metal reassuring in my grip. The knock came again, a little louder this time, my mind raced. Who could it be at this hour? Friend or foe? The small village was peaceful, the kind of place where midnight visitors were unheard of-unless they brought trouble.

Keeping my breath steady, I approached the door, pressing myself against the wall beside it. I listened carefully, trying to discern any movement or voices outside.

Peeking through the small hole of door, I could see a man in a baseball cap and sunglasses, holding a large brown box. He was tall and had a scruffy beard. My mind immediately raced with wild scenarios-a secret agent, a pirate, or worse, a villain straight out of one of her cartoons!