Page 61 of Hidden Echoes

"Figaro!" I shout, my heart lurching as I watch him bolt.

I take off after him, but he’s fast, and I’m not used to running. Panic tightens my chest—what if I lose him?

Then I spot a figure crouched ahead. A girl with short black hair is holding Figaro, a calm smile on her face.

"Here’s your kitty," she says gently, her warm eyes studying me as she hands him back.

Relief floods through me as I gather Figaro in my arms. He meows in protest, clearly displeased that his adventure was cut short.

"Thank you," I say, still catching my breath.

The girl watches me curiously, tilting her head as if trying to place me.

"I think I know you from somewhere..." she murmurs, frowning slightly.

My stomach twists. Recognition is the last thing I need.

"You've got me mixed up with someone else," I say quickly, forcing a casual tone.

Before she can respond, another girl appears beside her, eyes locking onto me like I just crawled out from under a rock. Her expression tightens, a mix of suspicion and something close to disgust.

She looks at me like I’m some kind of monster—something vile, unnatural, like I don’t belong in the same world as her.

"Who’s your friend, Andi?" she asks, voice edged with irritation.

I try to keep my expression neutral, but my heart lurches. My mind starts to spin, thoughts colliding into each other like a frantic storm.

Panic creeps in, slow and inevitable, curling around my throat like unseen hands.

Stop staring at me like I’m a monster.I’m not a monster. I’m not.

Before I can respond, another voice chimes in from behind Andi—a boy’s voice, smooth and teasing.

“Hey, Andi-boo, who’s your friend?” His grin is casual, too casual. “And is she single?”

A hot pulse of anger flares up inside me, sharp and immediate.

My blood boils, my fingers twitch, but I can’t let myself lose control.Not here. Not now.

Wordlessly, I lift my hand, letting my wedding ring catch the sunlight. It feels like armor, like a shield against all the noise.

“Married,” I say, my voice firm, almost cold. “And Andi was just helping me get my cat back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go.”

Andi opens her mouth as if to say something, but I don’t wait to hear it. Clutching Figaro to my chest, I turn and walk away, my steps quick, almost desperate.

The conversation was too loud, too confusing. My head feels full of static, my thoughts flickering in and out like a broken signal. I try to focus on the sound of the waves, but it no longer soothes me. It’s just another noise among the many—people laughing, music playing from someone’s speaker, footsteps crunching in the sand. Every sound feels amplified, pressing in on me from all directions.

My heartbeat pounds against my ribs, fast and erratic, a wild rhythm I can’t control. My chest tightens, every breath feeling shallower than the last. My vision tilts for a second, and I nearly stumble.

Too much. Too many people. Too many voices.

Figaro stares up at me with wide, knowing eyes. I run my fingers through his fur, trying to anchor myself, to remind myself that I’m here, in the present. Not back there. Not in the basement.

“Sorry, friend,” I whisper shakily. “Sometimes… being around too many people does this to me. I don’t know what to say, I don’t know how to be around them.”

The isolation, the years spent in darkness, have left marks on me I can’t see but feel all too well.

Everything is too much. Too loud. Too sharp.

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