No answer.
I edged closer to the door, straining my ears, expecting someone to jump out and laugh, to tell me it was just a joke. But the house remained still. Dead still.
I looked toward the window, the curtains swaying gently, as if someone had just been here. And then, my gaze dropped. A red rose, lying on the bed with a Joker card beside it.
I gasped. The vase slipped from my hands, shattering on the floor. My toes slammed into the sharp shards, the pain shooting up my leg like fire.
“Cazzo, che male!”I shouted, hopping on one foot, clutching my foot with my other hand.“Porca miseria!”
But the pain was nothing compared to that feeling of being watched, crawling up my spine. I sank to the bed, staring at the card, at the rose. I wiped at my eyes, fighting the tears, half-waiting for the whole scene to vanish like a bad dream.
When I picked up the rose, a thorn jabbed into my thumb, pulling a sharp gasp from me.
“Is he alive?” I whispered to myself.
Or was someone just toying with me?
Just as I reached for the Joker card, a knock at the door shattered my thoughts. Three short raps, too impatient to be polite, too familiar to be threatening. But still… it made my heart lurch.
I didn’t move right away. Instead, I stared at the door like it owed me an answer. Like maybe if I stared long enough, the past wouldn’t be on the other side again.
Another knock. Louder this time.
“Screw it,” I muttered under my breath, tossing the blanket aside.
The old floorboards creaked beneath my bare feet as I made my way to the door.I didn’t bother looking through the peephole. Only one person ever knocked like that.
“Sophie,” I said, pulling open the door.
She stood there with a wicked grin and smeared eyeliner, one boot tapping against the porch impatiently as her nails clicked against the glass bottle of Verdicchio. Her leather jacket was too thin for the cold, but she didn’t seem to care.
“You look like shit,” she said, cheerfully.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true. Come on, get dressed.”
“For what?”
Her grin stretched wider, practically mischievous. “There’s a party at the graveyard.”
I blinked at her. “Nope,” I shook my head. “No way in hell.”
She leaned against the doorframe, pouting now, her lower lip jutting out. “Yes way. You need people.”
“What I need is a bottle of Verdicchio,” I pointed to the wine in her hand, “a nap, and a restraining order from human interaction.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”
She didn’t wait for me to protest. Sophie shoved past me, catching me off guard as she slammed the door behind her. She placed the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter before pushing me further into the house, toward my room. I tried to resist, but she was stronger than I felt, and she just continued to push.
As soon as I stepped into my room, my eyes moved to the bed. I didn’t want Sophie to see the rose or the Joker card. But when I glanced back, they weren’t there. The bed was empty. No rose. No card. No him.
Am I dreaming?
Sophie snapped her fingers in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts. “Earth to Chiara.”
“Huh?” I blinked, trying to shake the fog out of my head.
