CH186

CH186
The next day came faster than I wanted, the light streaming through my blinds with no regard for how late I’d stayed up, and the last thing I wasn’t supposed to do was to go to therapy, but I went because I wanted to be better.
I wanted to be sure enough that Lukas knew I trusted him wholly. I wanted to get through this block inside me that was keeping us apart.
Therapy left me drained, a mix of relief and exhaustion simmering in my chest. Still, the quiet after was its own kind of balm. I couldn't say I was making quick progress, but I could acknowledge that I had made progress, so I congratulated and rewarded myself with a chocolate muffin from the café in my therapist's office building.
When I slid into the black sedan parked at the curb, the driver—one of my father’s men, though I didn’t know his name—gave me a nod.
“Where to, Ms. Winters?”
“Just… around,” I said. “I don't think I'm in the spirit to go back to campus yet."
The city passed by in swathes of brick and glass, the streets still damp from the early morning rain. Boston was alive with street vendors setting up stalls, people rushing between buildings. The low hum of music spilled from the radio  
After a few turns, something caught my eye. A narrow shop wedged between a bakery and a dry cleaner, its sign painted in looping gold script that read: Antiques & Curiosities.
The window was cluttered with bronze candlesticks, chipped porcelain, and a mirror with a tarnished frame that made my stomach twist until I forced myself to look away.
“Could you pull over, please?” I asked quickly.
The driver parked, and I slipped out into the damp air, hurrying back down the street to the shop. Something was pulling me there. The mirror was familiar, but it wasn't that. A bell tinkled when I pushed open the door. Inside, the shop smelled faintly of cedar and dust.
I wandered between shelves crowded with trinkets, running my fingers over old books, pressed flowers in gilt frames, and an impressive collection of clocks, each ticking slightly out of sync with the others.
Then, I saw it.
On a shelf near the back, tucked between a cracked vase and a bundle of postcards, sat a small wooden box. It was simple, carved with delicate swirls along the edges. My breath hitched. I knew it even before I touched it.
This was the music box Lukas talked about. My hands trembled as I lifted it, the wood warm beneath my fingers. The lid creaked open, and a faint, tinny melody spilled out, winding and sweet. The song wasn’t perfect. Time had weathered the gears, but it was enough to make my chest ache with a memory that wasn't mine.
I snapped the lid shut before the sound could make me cry.
The shopkeeper, a stooped man with a kind face, glanced over from behind the counter.
“Lovely piece, isn’t it? Came in with an estate lot. Still works, though she’s fragile.”
“How much?” My voice was too sharp. I cleared my throat. “Sorry. How much?”
He named a price, and I didn’t even flinch. My card was out in seconds.
“Do you want it wrapped?”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “Please. For a gift.”
He nodded, disappeared into the back, and returned with the box tucked in brown paper, tied neatly with a string. I held it against my chest like it might vanish as I got back in the car. I cradled the package in my lap.
"Could you take me back to the townhouse, then I'll head to campus."
The whole ride, my driver was completely silent.  I couldn’t wait to see Lukas’ face when I gave it to him for his birthday.
I dropped the music box off at the townhouse as quietly as I could, slipping it into the back of my closet beneath a stack of sweaters. Then I rode back to campus.
I cut through the humanities building, ducking into the side hall that led toward my next class. The bathroom door stood open, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly. I stepped inside to use the bathroom. I hadn't even gotten to a stall when the door slammed shut behind me.
My head jerked up. Celeste leaned against the tiled wall, her arms folded, a shark’s smile painted on her face. Behind her, two of her ever-present shadows slipped inside, the door locking with a heavy click. The woman from before wasn't there.
Interesting.
“Well, if it isn’t Boston’s fallen butterfly,” Celeste said, her voice syrup-sweet. “I was just thinking you looked a little too comfortable at the walk-throughs.”
I backed up, bumping against the sinks. “What do you want, Celeste?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just thought we’d take a little ride.” Her eyes glittered as she nodded toward the door. “Car’s waiting outside.”
One of the girls stepped forward, reaching for my arm. Instinct screamed, "Run," but my body froze. My pulse hammered in my throat.
“Don’t fight,” Celeste crooned, closing the distance. “It’ll be easier if you just be a good girl and disappear like always.”
Those words echoed through me, and something snapped inside me.
It was like a door opening in my mind, a rush of images that weren’t mine. Stone walls, cold steel, my own hands gripping a blade with absolute certainty flashed through my mind. I smelled blood. A voice in the back of my mind whispered, the order fluttered through me.
I moved before I thought.
When the girl grabbed me, I twisted, catching her wrist, jerking it down, and shoving her off balance. She hit the floor with a cry.
Celeste's eyes widened. She stepped forward, raising her hand to strike me, and I caught it by the wrist, squeezing hard before shoving her back.
"Leave me alone," I said. "This is your only warning."
"Fucking---"
The second lunged, but my knee drove up hard, connecting with her stomach.