Fragments Beneath His Silence

Rain had always, had a way of making the city feel distant. Like everything was happening behind a glass. Muted, blurred, and untouchable. And today felt no different. Under the narrow awning of a convenience store, stood Amaya Bennett, clutching a paper bag to her chest as she watched the rain fall in sheets across the empty street. Her shift had ended later than usual. The fluorescent lights inside the store buzzed faintly behind her. Every time the automatic door slid open, the warmth from inside brushed against her back. She should leave. She knew that. But it felt impossible with the rain not slowing down. And neither was the unease sitting in her chest. It wasn't anything new. Just... one of those feelings. Amaya shifted her weight, glancing at her reflection in the glass. Her face was pale. With eyes that always looked like they were searching for something just out of reach. Slightly, she frowned. "Still waiting?" the cashier called from inside, leaning lazily against the counter. Amaya turned at his voice, offering a small smile. "Yeah. I thought it would stop." He snorted. "In this city? Good luck." She huffed softly, hugging the bag closer. Though there was nothing special. Just instant noodles, bread, and a small carton of milk. Enough to get through the next couple of days. A quiet, safe and normal life. Just how she liked it. Suddenly, a car passed by, its tires slicing through the water which sent a wave crashing against the curb. Aria stepped back instinctively, her shoulder brushing the glass. The motion made her pause. And like a flash, something flickered in her mind. Water. Not rain. Something darker. Her breath hitched. It all happened in just a second; A floor. Shiny. Wet. Red. Aria blinked hard, and it was gone. "...You okay?" the cashier asked, his tone shifting slightly. She glanced at him, forcing a laugh. "Yeah. Just... tired." She said. He didn't look convinced, but let it go. If she says so. He wasn't going to stress it. Moreover, it wasn't going to add anything to his life. Amaya on the other hand, exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers against her temple. It was happening again. Those flashes. It always came sudden and incomplete. Leaving her with more questions than answers. The doctors had called them "residual memory fragments." Said it was normal after trauma. Said they might come back fully one day... or they might not. Aria didn't know which scared her more. At that moment, thunder rolled faintly in the distance. She looked up. The rain had softened a little than earlier. "Guess that's my cue," she murmured. Pulling her jacket tighter around herself, she stepped out from under the awning and into the drizzle. Her apartment wasn't far. A ten-minute walk, fifteen if she stopped by the pedestrian crossing that always took forever to change. The streets were usually quieter at this hour. Office lights dimmed, and Restaurants closing. The city settling into that strange in-between where everything felt slower, but not asleep. Aria liked it that much. To her, it felt... manageable. She passed a small laundromat, its machines humming steadily through fogged-up windows. A couple inside laughed over something, their voices muffled but warm. For a moment, she slowed and Watched. There was something comforting about ordinary life. About people doing simple things. Laundry, groceries, and conversations. Things she could understand. Things that didn't always come with missing pieces. Just then, Her phone buzzed in her pocket Amaya pulled it out, balancing the paper bag awkwardly in her other arm. It was an Unknown Number. She frowned, then declined it. Probably a wrong number. Or spam. So she thought, but for no reason, her fingers still lingered on the screen for a second longer than necessary. A strange feeling settled in her chest. Like she had just ignored something important. She shook her head, slipping the phone back into her pocket. "You're overthinking," she muttered to herself. A thing she had been doing sometimes; talked out loud when her thoughts got too loud. As she turned another block, her building came into view It was nothing fancy. Just a modest structure with peeling paint and a flickering hallway light that management never seemed to fix. As an habit, Amaya climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator. It was slower, but she preferred it. The movement helped clear her head. She headed up, first, the Second floor. And then, Third. By the time she reached her door, her breathing had steadied. She fumbled with her keys, finally unlocking as she stepped inside. Darkness greeted her the moment she walked in. Amaya flipped the switch. Warm light flooded the small space which was just a one room. A bed was stationed in the corner, a tiny kitchenette, a desk cluttered with notebooks and loose papers.Her little world. Without hesitation, she set the groceries down, slipping off her shoes before heading straight to the window. The Rain tapped softly against the glass. More quieter and calmer. She leaned her forehead against the cool surface. Everything felt still, but this stillness was immediately interrupted by a soup. Not outside, but indoors. A voice low and sharp. "...You weren't supposed to see this." Amaya froze. As her heart slammed violently against her ribs. The room was empty. She knew it that. Yet, her breath came faster. And her fingers trembled as she stepped back from the window. Another flash of waves hit her. First, a hand. A gold ring. Then, a man falling. Amaya gasped, stumbling backward until her legs hit the edge of the bed. She collapsed onto it, clutching her head. "No... no, no..." Her vision blurred as her chest tightened. The image slipped away just as quickly as it came. And it was gone. Leaving behind nothing but the echo of fear. She stayed there for a long moment, breathing hard, and staring at nothing. Then slowly... painfully... she sat up. "It's just a memory," she whispered. "Just a broken one." But it didn't feel broken. It felt buried. Whatever was underneath it, didn't want to stay hidden forever. . . . Meanwhile, high above the streets, where glass walls reflected the storm and the skyline stretched endlessly, Jake Anderson stood in silence. His office was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights behind him. On his desk, laid an opened. Containing Photographs, Reports and Names. All leading to one thing. A murder. His father's murder. Jake's gaze didn't waver as he looked down at the final page. Witness: Unidentified female. Status: Missing. Two years. It's been two years, and she had vanished without a trace. But Jake didn't believe in things like coincidence. Nor disappearance. Everyone leaves a trail, one way or the other. You just had to be patient enough to find it. He reached for his glass, taking a slow sip of whiskey before setting it back down. "Find her," he said. Behind him, his assistant straightened. "We've exhausted all leads." "Then start again." His voice was calm. The kind of calm that didn't allow room for failure. "Yes, sir." Jake turned, finally facing the city. Rain streaked down the glass in front of him, distorting the lights into something almost unrecognizable. "Someone saw what happened that night," he murmured. His reflection stared back at him-cold, controlled, and unreadable. "All I need is to find her..." His eyes darkened. "...she's going to expose the bastard."