BECAUSE THEY'D COME FOR ME NEXT

BECAUSE THEY'D COME FOR ME NEXT
Elgin finally looked at her again. “She came to me that night. Said she has something, I told you this before, Nisi.”

“Don't call me that..”

“She said there was a recording,” Elgin continued. “Something she’d hidden. Not the badge, not the cloth—that was just a signal. She said someone in uniform came to her, told her to stop asking questions. She didn’t. She never could.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t say. Said the less I knew, the better. That if anything happened to her… I should disappear. Because they’d come for me next.”

Anise’s pulse raced. “So you ran.”

“I ran to live. So one day I could tell you this.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“Where’s the recording?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” His voice broke a little. “She never told me where. Only that she left hints. Said if anything happened to her, her daughter would figure it out.”

A long, stunned pause.

Anise froze.

“What did you just say?” she asked.

Elgin looked confused. “She said her daughter. Not you, exactly. Just… her daughter.”

But Anise was no longer listening. Something clicked. Something she didn’t see before.

The phone beeped — one long tone.

“Time’s up,” the guard said from the door.

Anise didn’t move. Elgin just stared at her, as if memorizing her face.

“Promise me something,” he said, voice hoarse.

“What?”

“Don’t die chasing ghosts. If you get close to the truth, they’ll know. They always know.”

She stood slowly.

“I’ve already died once,” she said quietly. “But this time… I came back for a reason.”

He smiled — just barely.

“Then make sure it matters.”

She hung up the receiver. So did he.

They didn’t touch.

They couldn’t.

But as she walked out, she felt something pass between them anyway — not forgiveness, not absolution.Just something real.

The sun had begun its descent by the time Anise stepped onto the back porch of Aunt Marie’s house, a mug of lukewarm tea cradled between her hands. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and jasmine. Somewhere in the neighborhood, children laughed in bursts, but their voices felt miles away from where she sat, legs folded beneath her, eyes distant.

The wooden floor beneath her creaked with age, just like the rest of the house. Familiar, Weathered, Safe, in its quiet way.
 It had been a week since she’d come to stay here after the ordeal.
 Her ribs still ached some nights. The scar beneath her collarbone still tingled when she touched it absentmindedly. But the real bruises, the ones pressing against her spirit, weren’t so visible. And they were harder to ignore.

She hadn’t told Aunt Marie everything. Just that she needed a place to breathe. A pause from it all. And Aunt Marie had opened her arms without question.

But not everyone in the house was so welcoming.

Anise didn’t hear the door open behind her, but she felt the presence before the first word was even spoken.

"You’re using my mug."

Gianna’s voice was calm, Flat, Like a room with all the windows shut.

Anise looked down. The chipped white mug with the faded black heart on it.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Didn’t realize.”

Gianna stepped out onto the porch in her usual oversized sweater and combat boots, her jet-black hair piled into a loose knot. A silver ring pierced her nose. Two more climbed her left brow. The sleeve of her sweater slipped slightly, revealing the edge of a tattoo — sharp black ink curved like the wing of a crow.

She didn’t ask Anise to give the mug back. She just leaned against the wooden post and lit a cigarette she wasn’t supposed to be smoking.

“I saw you leave early this morning,” Gianna said after a moment. “Where’d you go?”

Anise took a sip of her now-cold tea. “To see my father.”

Gianna blinked. Her eyes were unreadable, dark and still like a lake before a storm.

“I thought he was in jail.”

“He is.”

Gianna scoffed softly and turned her head, exhaling smoke into the golden air. “So you finally went to see the man everyone thought killed your mom. Bold move.”

Anise didn’t flinch.

“You don’t like me much, do you?” she asked quietly.

Gianna laughed—but it wasn’t a warm sound. “That obvious?”

“Yeah.”

Another silence passed. The house behind them creaked as if listening.

Anise glanced back inside through the glass door. Aunt Marie was bustling in the kitchen, talking to Gianna’s youngest brother, Bryan, the fourteen-year-old with too many questions and a new obsession with chess. The older brother, Myles, had just gotten in from university and was half-asleep on the couch, earbuds in.

It looked like a normal house. Like a normal life.

And it made Anise feel like a splinter beneath the skin.

“You know,” Gianna said suddenly, her tone lighter but laced with something sharp, “I used to think My Mom was perfect. Until she started treating you like you were hers.”

Anise slowly turned her head.

“She’s always loved you,” Gianna continued, still not meeting her eyes. “I mean… loved you. Like you were the daughter she wanted but didn’t get. I used to think maybe I did something wrong. Maybe I wasn’t enough.”

Her words struck more than Anise expected.

“I’m not trying to replace you,” Anise said softly. “Or anyone.”

Gianna finally looked at her. “You don’t have to try.”

Another beat of silence.

“Sorry,” Gianna said, brushing ash off the porch railing. “It’s not your fault. I just… I don’t trust people who walk into rooms like they’ve always belonged.”

Anise didn’t answer. Because part of her knew—she hadn’t felt like she belonged anywhere in a long time.

Gianna stepped back inside without another word, leaving the scent of clove smoke behind her.

Anise stayed seated. Her mug was untouched.

When the door shut, she let her shoulders sag.

The words from her father echoed in her skull like stones dropped into water:

“She said if anything happened to her… her daughter would figure it out.”
That should’ve been comforting. But all it did was twist in her gut.

What if she wasn’t the kind of daughter her mother believed in?

What if the hints weren’t enough?

What if she wasn’t smart enough, strong enough, whole enough to finish what her mother started?

Anise closed her eyes.

It wasn’t just about finding a killer anymore.

It was about becoming the kind of woman her mother believed she could be.

What if she has come this far, only to fail?

The screen door creaked again. This time, it was Aunt Marie.

“You okay, baby?”

Anise smiled faintly. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

She leaned in for a tight hug that he needed.

“You want anything?” she asked.

Anise blinked. “No… thank you, Auntie.”

Aunt Marie looked at her closely. “You sure? You look pale. And you haven’t eaten.”

“I’m fine,” Anise murmured.

But she wasn’t.

She hadn’t slept more than two hours last night. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back underground with a bag over her face and Grant’s voice echoing in the dark.

Gianna walked back in, her movement smooth and strangely quiet for someone wearing boots. She dropped the peeled oranges on a table, not making eye contact with Anise.

“You can have some,” she said flatly.

“I’m not hungry,” Anise replied, without looking up.

Gianna shrugged. “Didn’t peel them for you.”

Bryan chuckled from the couch. “That’s cold, Gigi.”

“Then wear a jacket,” she shot back.

Aunt Marie shook her head and muttered something about children without home training before disappearing toward the backyard.

The moment she was gone, the air shifted.

You know,” Gianna said suddenly, her voice calm but firm, “you don’t have to stay here.”

Anise turned slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Gianna didn’t blink. “You don’t have to stay here. You have a place now. A name. A case. Friends. Drama. You’ve got your world somewhere else.”

Anise frowned. “Why are you saying this?”

Gianna folded her arms. “Because every time you show up here, my mother forgets she has a daughter.”

That hit harder than it should have.

“Gianna—”

“She buys your favorite snacks. Washes your sheets by hand. Remembers the way you like your tea. I get a birthday prayer and a reminder to not slam the door.”

“I never asked her to do any of that,” Anise said quietly.

“I know. That’s the part that scares me.”

Anise stared at her.

And for the first time, she didn’t see the tattoos or the cold piercings or the strange silence. She saw a girl who had grown up with half her mother’s love stolen by a ghost.

A ghost with Anise’s face.

“I’m sorry, Gigi.”

Anise said gently, but Gianna didn’t reply.

She just walked back to the kitchen.

Bryan made an awkward joke about the football match and tried to break the tension, but Anise didn’t hear it.

Because in that moment, she realized—

She didn’t belong anywhere anymore.

Not here. Not there. Not even in her own story.

And still… she had to finish it.