Never Alone

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Isabella finished the phone conversation slumped against the back wall of the house, feeling the beat pulse through the wall and resonate in her bones. It was only the strong beats that made it through the wall to her heart, everything else absorbed by the depth of brick and only hitting her body by ear. But it was comforting, in a way, the beat of the music like a second heartbeat. Almost as if it was reminding her that she still had one. And that it was still beating, despite the tears slowly making their way down her face and contaminating her smile.

Her body was at war with itself, not really sure on what emotion to feel. It made her glad for the presence of the brick wall, really, because, without it, she would have slumped to the ground a long time ago. The overpowering weight of her own feelings was enhancing her gravity to reality, pressing down on her until she had slowly slid down the wall and placed her head inside the crook of her knees.

"You alright there?"

She almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of the voice. She hadn't expected for anyone to join her out here, most particularly because of the biting cold of the winter air. She would have thought that most people would have opted for the warmth of the house. But, apparently, she wasn't the only one who needed to have some time alone with her feelings. 

She briefly wondered if this person had heard her mess of a phone conversation. But then decided that it didn't matter anyway. It wasn't as if she could exactly hide the redness of her eyes and the shallowness of her breaths. She was clearly crying and not hearing the phone conversation would only subtract the tears from their context. Hearing that phone conversation would mean that she would have one less misery to explain.

"Y...yeah."

The voice chuckled, but there was no humour to it. It sorted of reminded her of something a villain in a movie would do, right before he stabs his victim through the heart. It was a chilling, frightening sound. Because a laugh was never made to be heard without humour. Subtracting the humour from a laugh was like taking away the love in a relationship. Cold, unfeeling and bound to cause a hell of a lot of damage. 

"You're a terrible liar."

She couldn't actually see the owner of the voice, but, for some reason, it was oddly familiar. Like something she had heard before but not...directly. Her mind stumbled over itself as it struggled to remember where it had heard that voice before, the nagging feeling in her mind not going away as she saw the figure move slightly in the shadows that the night created. 

He was leaning against the wall with a bottle of beer in his hands, taking a long swig as she studied his figure. He was just by the corner of the house, not quite in the circle of light underneath the porch. It felt as if something from a horror movie, and she expected to be murdered any second. But there were no chills on her skin, despite how much of a murder situation this seemed like. Because, for some reason, her mind knew this voice. And it was telling her that this person wasn't a threat.

"Sounded like a pretty grim phone conversation you were having there," the voice continued in an almost dry manner; as if he found something amusing. This, of course, confused Isabella, because her conversation had been anything but funny. But she then took in the beer in his hand an realized he was probably drunk. "I used to have phone conversations."

Definitely drunk. His tone was way too wistful to be sober. She found herself wondering how he had gotten into Elliot's back garden. She couldn't exactly imagine him being invited to the party. "Are you...are you on the guest list?"

She saw his shoulders shrug, just before he took another swig of the beer in his hand. He was leaning a little more heavily on the wall. "Sort of. I'm a friend of a friend."

Isabella raised her eyebrows in surprise, she had half expected him to be some weird drunk guy who had somehow stumbled into Elliot's back garden.

"So you know Elliot then?"

She saw the dark figure shake his head, and she once again found herself racking her brain for how she knew this guy. There was something so familiar about him. From his speech to the way that he was standing to the way that he shook his head. She had seen him before. She knew him. But where from?

"Not personally. Hey...are you Isabella by any chance?"

It was right then that Isabella knew she should have run, away from this weird, creepy guy, who knew her name for some unexplainable reason. She should have run back into the house and dialled the police but...for some reason. She was curious. She wanted to know who this guy was. And she took this curiosity as a good thing, because, a few months ago, she would have sprinted away at the first sight of danger. Her backbone was growing back, little by little, and she wasn't necessarily sure if it was a good thing or not. Because courage had once almost gotten her killed.

"Do I...do I know you from somewhere?"

The same humourless chuckle. "Probably."

"Could you..."

"Step into the light?" She could practically hear him smirking. And it made her jump slightly. Because how had had she known that? How had she known that he would be the type to smirk? She was so close to the verge of discovery but she couldn't. Quite. Reach it. 

"Yeah."

He let out a sigh, almost as if the task was somewhat above him, and stepped into the pool of light just in front of her.

And it all clicked into place.

She felt her jaw slowly unhinge, powerless to stop it as it slowly lowered itself to the ground in shock. No wonder she had recognized him.

"Shane Caliente?"