Chapter 186: The Memory of Death

When I spotted the man, I instinctively shoved Carter aside, quickly clamping my hand over his mouth and motioning him to follow my gaze. The area was eerily quiet, with scattered streetlights leaving many areas in shadow. A tall figure approached, bundled in a long down jacket, his head bowed. Under the dim glow, his face was obscured, but his height and build were hauntingly familiar—the same as the one who ended my life that night.

As he drew closer, my body stiffened, trembling uncontrollably. The memory of that freezing, snow-covered night surged back, vivid and sharp. His blade had been swift, piercing me in an instant, and blood poured from the wound like a river. I had stumbled along the riverbank, desperation filling every step, while he trailed me silently, savoring my futile attempts to escape. His silence was more terrifying than words. Even now, the memory of his cold, predatory gaze sent shivers down my spine.

The closer he got, the more suffocating the air around me became, as if it were being drained. I trembled uncontrollably, the reaction purely instinctive. My heart raced wildly, as though it had returned to the frantic pace of that fateful night. Beads of cold sweat formed on my forehead and dampened my palms. Sensing my fear, Carter quickly wrapped his arms around me and whispered, “Zoey, don’t be scared.”

But how could I not be? That night still haunted me—the desperation, the way I clutched my waist, gasping for breath, desperate to escape. My strength faded with every drop of blood I lost until I collapsed helplessly on the ground. I bit my lip, using the pain to steady myself. I fixed my gaze on the man, knowing that just a glimpse of his eyes would be enough. If he were the one who ended my life, I wouldn’t fail to recognize him.

He stood roughly 150 feet away. My breathing became erratic as I clutched Carter’s clothes tightly. The man was dressed in a long black down jacket, resembling the Grim Reaper. As he approached the car, he glanced inside, almost instinctively. The brief moment when our eyes met felt like dying all over again. Even though the glass was one-way, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being completely exposed to his gaze. My body tensed, and I didn’t dare breathe. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it was stuck in my throat.

When his eyes finally drifted away, I felt like I had been released from some invisible force. The air, once thin and suffocating, began to feel normal again. Like a fish struggling on the brink of suffocation, I gasped desperately for air. Completely drained, I collapsed into Carter’s arms.

“Is it him?” Carter asked. I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t him. Though their builds were similar, their eyes were worlds apart. The killer’s gaze had been menacing, cruel, and creepy.” Looking down, I realized my grip had left Carter’s hand red. “Sorry, I got nervous,” I mumbled.

Carter didn’t press me for an explanation, but his eyes searched mine deeply. “It’s okay,” he said calmly. “Since you’re so worried about the car repair shop, I’ll dig into it and give you some answers soon.”

“Alright,” I replied, leaning against him, too exhausted to move. The overwhelming sense of near-death still clung to me. “Carter, can I rest here for a while?”

“Of course.”

The car didn’t start again until the man was long gone. I shut my eyes, drained from the ordeal. Even though he wasn’t the killer, he still terrified me. If I truly faced the one who killed me, how would I react? It was the primal fear of prey for its predator. Even though I had been given a second chance at life, the memory of my death had carved itself deeply into my soul.

That night, I couldn’t eat and went to bed early. Only in the warmth of my room did I feel a faint sense of security. Yet, despite the heating, an icy chill seemed to seep into my very bones. When Carter had food brought up to me, I still couldn’t muster an appetite.

“Are you feeling unwell? Should I call the family doctor?” he asked with concern.

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Just not hungry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m—” Before I could finish, a distant explosion rattled the air. The sound jolted me, and I leaped from the bed, trembling as I threw myself into Carter’s arms.

He held me tightly. “Don’t be scared. It’s almost New Year’s. Some kids are probably setting off fireworks.” The dark sky lit up with flashes of brilliant colors, but the sight only brought back terrible memories. The last thing I saw before dying was Luke lighting fireworks for Anna.

As the fireworks burst, I felt my blood draining away. My hand instinctively clutched at my waist, remembering the gaping wound that had been there. The sound of the wind seemed to echo my pain.

“Zoey, what’s wrong?”

I opened my palm, finding no blood. “Carter, c—close the curtains,” I whispered. “I don’t want to see the fireworks.”

“Okay, don’t be afraid,” Carter said softly as he activated the electric curtains, shielding the windows from view. He wrapped his arms around me, his warmth grounding me.

“I’m freezing, Carter. I can’t stop shaking.”

His voice was gentle as he replied, “How about I stay with you tonight?”

Normally, I would have said no without hesitation, but fear had completely taken over. The image of that tall man haunted me, stirring memories I had long tried to bury. With my eyes closed, I tried to block out the thoughts. But the constant bursts of fireworks outside refused to let me escape. Each explosion seemed to drag me back to that horrifying moment.

In my mind, I saw myself again, sprawled by the riverbank in a blood-soaked wedding dress. The fireworks illuminated my lifeless face as they painted the night sky with color. And there, under the dazzling display, Luke and Anna kissed.

The unbearable pain of that memory crashed over me, and tears began to flow. Somehow, I found myself in Carter’s arms again, his presence anchoring me. He had joined me on the bed, the fresh scent of soap lingering from his shower.

“It’s all in the past,” he murmured soothingly, like a parent comforting a frightened child.

Unable to stop myself, I buried my face against him and sobbed. “Carter, it hurts so much. I feel so cold…”

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, holding me tighter. “I won’t let you be cold.”

“No, it’s not enough,” I whispered shakily. “The wind—it’s everywhere. I can feel snowflakes.”

“Zoey, you’re safe,” Carter said, his worry clear. “You’re…”