8 You

"Do you know why we named you Amiel?"

My mother asked me one night before bedtime. Of course, me being only seven, I shook my head and waited for her to tell.

"Your father and I thought you would be a boy."

She poked my nose, expecting me to be mad. But instead, I giggled.

"What does Amiel mean?"

"According to the web, it's a Hebrew name that suggests the Supreme Being to be with us."

"Do you believe in that, mommy?"

My mother stroked my hair, kissing the top of my head as she tucked me in.

"We need something to believe in, my love."

I slowly opened my eyes and found myself standing in the middle of the room I had grown up in.

Everything was in its place, thanks to Bruce. I even expected cobwebs and dust to cover the floors and the furniture, but it was clean.

I think he expected me to come inside once we dropped by. And he wasn't wrong.

Thus, he had the place clean.

"Oh, Bruce."

I let out a sigh, clasping my hands together as I gave my old room a once over. Upon Seven's instructions, I cleared out all photographs, albums, and all social media accounts related to me.

Without my parents, the house felt empty.

"It still feels empty now," I mumbled. "I think I need a drink."

Biting on my lower lip, I paced around the room for a minute before finally moving along. I had to savor the last time I could be inside this room and in this house.

Once I made it outside, I took the time to stare at the mansion.

No matter what, this place held so many precious memories for me. I just hope whoever buys it would wisely use the vast land and create memorable moments there too.

"I might sound crazy saying this, but, jeez." I shook my head and laughed. Now I think I looked like a crazy person indeed.

Gratefully, our house was located on a hill farther away from the main city.

Even the drones hardly hovered around here. It was close to being literally deserted.

Turning my attention back to the mansion, its windows glinted against the afternoon light.

I clicked my tongue.

"Rory," I mumbled. "I'm going to smack you in the head. Hard."

With a sigh, I pursed my lips and continued the speech I had thought of earlier.

"I hate cliches, but" I gritted my teeth. "Thanks for the memories."

–

The metal shaker had drawn my attention, and it had nothing to do with the charming bartender either.

I find it amusing every time my drink was prepared. It was a weird hobby, but I enjoyed doing it whenever I visited a bar.

The bartender, one with blonde hair and an undeniably cute smile, poured the drink into a new glass. He handed it to me, lingering his hold on it, and waited for my hand to touch the glass before releasing it.

I couldn't help but smile at his subtle attempt to get my attention.

"Cheers," I raised the drink for a toast and watched as he watched me finish it in one go.

"Another?" he promptly asked, ignoring the other customers who had been there before me.

I shook my head, rummaging through my purse for my wallet.

"The last drink is on the house."

The bartender winked at me. I chuckled.

"I guess it's my lucky day."

Paying for the rest, I left a good tip before getting on my feet. I swayed slightly, needing to regain my balance before attempting to walk.

"Have a great night ahead, lady."

I gave the bartender a quick salute.

Keeping one's balance while a little sober was no easy feat. I had to make a stop every once in a while when things got blurry, and I almost lost my balance.

Rhythmic music made my heart pound and my headache. I knew I needed to get out of there and figure out how to get sober before I tried getting home.

Funny how G79 was across the place I got out of.

"Damn," I mumbled, halfway stumbling on my feet. I used the nearby pillar as support while I gathered myself.

"I just needed a drink," my hand tapped on my chest. "Not this much. But just one, actually."

No matter how much I tried to convince myself, I knew I had made a mistake.

Pounding on my head with the back of my palm, I ended up sitting at the curb.

Other people would have someone with them when they were drunk. They had friends who took care of them and helped them get home safely.

In my case, I was careless. But that was too late now.

"Gosh," I muttered, putting a hand over my face. "Deep breaths, Amiel. Deep breaths."

Shaking my head, I focused my gaze on the gloating sign of G79.

Due to the recent death on the second floor, they wouldn't be able to operate until next week, when the police would have it cleared to do so.

"Should I feel guilty about that?" I chuckled and then regretted it right after as it turned into hiccups.

"This won't do," I murmured. "I need to go home."

Heaving myself up, I crossed my fingers and hoped I wouldn't fall.

I managed to stand.

Relieved, I tried to take a step, but the world just kept spinning beneath my feet.

"You got this. You're a big girl."

A curse escaped my lips, but I pursued it anyway.

And then, my legs wobbled.

My face would have met the ground if not for a mysterious stranger who appeared out of the blue.

He had a firm hold. I'll give him that.

Shaking my head to get a clearer vision, I was eye to eye with a stranger who, I think, had the most beautiful stormy irises I had ever seen.

My heart fluttered; weirdly enough, there was something familiar about this guy.

I felt goosebumps crawl on my skin. It was a good kind of spooky. If that even made sense.

Staring at my savior through the hazy eyesight, my hands moved of their own accord.

"You," I pointed a finger at him. "You…"

The rest of the sentence died on my lips as the world turned black.