Page 13 of Forbidden Knots

"You pushed her, wasn't me," Chiara said, chuckling. "Do us all a favor and disappear!"

He looked at her with such hate in his eyes, I couldn't comprehend why at the moment, but I knew it had to do with this. He took her by the arm and dragged her up the stairs towards the exit from this cliff beach.

"I am so, so sorry," Sophie said. "If Tristan didn't jump..."

"Yeah," I barely spoke, and as I slowly lifted myself, I heard him shouting behind us, "You two as well, HOME!! Enough camping for the next few years!"

Sophie rolled her eyes and helped me stand up. My nose and mouth were still burning from the salty water, and my eyes were still blurry. I barely walked because my stomach hurt, but I leaned on Sophie as we made our way up, forgetting my purse and towel at the cliffs.

"Chiara can be such a bitch," she whispered. "She probably heard us talking."

"Yeah," I confirmed, but then I asked, "Are they dating?"

"No," she simply added. "Tristan doesn't date. He usually takes interest in someone, he then fucks, gets bored, and moves on."

I chuckled, "You can't be serious."

"I am dead serious," she said. "He may be my brother, but I wouldn't recommend him to date anyone, not evena bitchlike Chiara."

Even though she said it, even though she meant it, when I felt his hands on my chest, my stomach twisted, awakening tingles in me that had been dormant for so long. And when I saw his eyes, they made me think about him even more. He was something I used to wish for.

As we neared home, I turned to Sophie. "Maybe he just needs someone to find him."

"You can't find someone who doesn't want to be found," she said, kissing my cheek and opening the door for me.

"Bye," I said, dragging myself up the stairs. Noticing that Grandma wasn't inside the house, I went straight to the bedroom.

This time, I was too ashamed to look through the window, so I immediately closed the shutters, making my bedroom as dark as midnight.

As I approached my nightstand, I noticed a white oleander and a piece of paper. Picking up the oleander, my gaze shifted to the paper. It was old, with twisted ends, and written in black ink it read:

The paper fell from my hands, and I gasped.

"Shadow," I whispered, "this isn't a dream."

This is my reality.

Someoneis stalking me.

Someoneis watching me from a distance.

Someonewas there, someone was constantly in my shadow.

I stood silently for a moment, then took the paper, throwing the oleander on the bed. I left the room and walked towards the balcony where I saw my grandmother.

"Is everything okay?" she asked with a cigarette in her trembling hand.

I approached her, my hands shaking, and handed her the paper with the poem that the shadow left me. "I think someone is following me."

"What?" She shot back, "Do you know who?"

"I have no idea," I said. "A few days ago, I noticed a figure in a black hoodie with a cap on his head, but I didn't think it was anything serious until he appeared in my room."

"We have to be careful, dear. This is a small town, and if something like this gets out, it won't be good," she whispered, rolling up the piece of paper and putting it in her pocket. Then she muttered to herself, "History repeats itself again and again and again."

I asked, "Grandma, what should I do?"

"Hmm," Grandma muttered, turning towards the house next door. "I heard that our new neighbor is an American whose father worked in security. We can ask him."

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