Chapter 4

As we pulled into Havenwood, I couldn't contain my excitement. The anticipation of exploring a new place with my friends filled me with joy. Havenwood was like something out of a storybook, with its quaint streets and historic charm. Throughout the day, we delved into the local culture, immersing ourselves in museums, sampling traditional cuisine, and wandering through the village's nooks and crannies. By the time we returned to the hotel at 9:30 PM, exhaustion tinged with satisfaction settled over me. Dinner was a welcome reward for our day of adventure, and as we gathered around the table, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the experiences we shared in Havenwood.

As I sat at the dinner table, exhaustion from the day's events weighing heavily on me, I began to eat, craving sustenance after a long day. But as I took small bites, my gaze wandered, stealing side glances throughout the hotel without my conscious awareness. It was as if my subconscious was searching for someone, someone whose identity eluded me.

It wasn't until I caught myself in the act that I paused, confusion clouding my thoughts. Why was I searching? And who exactly was I searching for? The questions swirled in my mind, refusing to be ignored.

Then, it hit me like a bolt of lightning. Kristen. I was searching for Kristen. But why? The realization sent a shiver down my spine. Could it be because I suspected him of being my father's killer? Or was it simply the result of hours spent poring over every detail about him and his friends, consumed by a desire to uncover the truth?

As Kiara finished her dinner, her mind still swirling with questions, she made her way back to her room where Ronnie, her roommate, was engrossed in her laptop, scrolling through Instagram. They exchanged casual greetings, but Kiara's exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and she soon collapsed onto her bed.

"Looks like Miss Sleepyhead is exhausted by the weight of the day," Ronnie remarked sarcastically, glancing over at Kiara with a teasing smile.

Kiara replied with a tired chuckle, "I guess so," before closing her eyes, too drained to engage further.

Hours later, Kiara stirred, roused by the dim glow of her laptop screen and Ronnie's continued activity. Irritation simmered beneath the surface as Kiara struggled to find peace in her own room. When Ronnie ignored her request to turn off the laptop and join her in bed, Kiara's patience snapped.

"Turn off the laptop and come to bed," Kiara's voice cut through the silence, sharp with frustration. But Ronnie's disregard only fueled Kiara's anger, and she raised her voice, demanding compliance.

Startled by Kiara's outburst, Ronnie hurriedly obeyed, extinguishing the lights and shutting down her laptop before retreating to her own bed. In the darkness, the tension lingered, but eventually, exhaustion claimed them both, and they drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

As I stirred from my sleep, the haunting memory of my father's murder plagued my dreams, dragging me back to consciousness. Blinking groggily, I glanced at the clock and saw the digital display read 3 a.m. The darkness of the room pressed in around me, and I noticed my roommate, Ronnie, still sound asleep in her bed. Not wanting to disturb her, I silently slipped out of bed and tiptoed towards the bathroom.

Splashing cold water on my face, I tried to shake off the remnants of the nightmare, but the images lingered in my mind like ghosts. As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the dim light casting shadows across my tired face, I felt a surge of unease wash over me.

Determined to clear my head, I dried my face and quietly exited the bathroom. Grabbing my Airpods, phone, and a torch, I made my way to the hotel lawn. The cool night air greeted me as I stepped outside, the darkness broken only by the soft glow of my torch.

Scrolling through my playlist, I selected a familiar Taylor Swift song and pressed play. The lyrics filled my ears, offering a brief respite from the turmoil within. With each step I took, the music guided me through the silent expanse of the lawn, soothing my restless mind.

Lost in the melody, I roamed aimlessly, the weight of the night slowly lifting from my shoulders. Beneath the starlit sky, surrounded by nothing but the gentle rustle of the breeze and the soft hum of the music, I found a moment of peace. And as the hours ticked by, I allowed myself to simply be, embracing the stillness of the early morning hours.

The lyrics of Taylor Swift's song "Style" from her album "1989" echoed in my mind:

"And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'Cause we never go out of style

We never go out of style"

As I walked through the darkened hotel grounds, a sense of unease settled over me like a heavy cloak. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was there, lurking just out of sight. With every step I took, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a chill ran down my spine.

Turning around, I scanned the empty expanse behind me, but there was no one to be seen. Heart pounding, I quickened my pace, my footsteps echoing loudly in the stillness of the night. But no matter how fast I walked, I couldn't shake the feeling of being followed.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted them - a group of shadowy figures cloaked in black, advancing towards me with purpose. Panic surged through my veins, and without hesitation, I broke into a run, desperate to escape their pursuit.

As I darted through the deserted hotel lobby, my breaths came in ragged gasps, and I searched frantically for a place to hide. Spotting a hallway leading to the hotel's blocks, I dashed inside, hoping to lose my pursuers among the maze of corridors.

But my hopes were dashed as one of the figures spotted me and began to close in. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, my mind raced, searching for a way out. Just as the figure drew near, a hand suddenly reached out and pulled me into a nearby room, silencing my startled cry with a firm grip over my mouth.

In the dim light, my eyes widened in shock as I realized the identity of my savior - Kristen. His face was a mixture of determination and concern as he held me tightly, his eyes silently urging me to stay quiet. As I looked at Kristen wide-eyed in shock, he did a light smirk, adding an enigmatic layer to his expression. With bated breath, we waited as the sound of footsteps echoed outside the door, the danger lurking just inches away.

As the danger passed, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, I found myself locked in a moment with Kristen. His eyes held a light smirk, and for a brief instant, I was caught off guard, staring into his gaze.

Realising the situation, I stumbled back, rubbing the spot where I had fallen, my expression a mix of surprise and discomfort. "Hey, whoa, calm down," he said, putting his hands up defensively. "I was just trying to help. I heard a strange noise and thought something might be wrong, so I opened the door to check."

His explanation did little to ease my skepticism. "Why did you help me?" I demanded, my voice tinged with suspicion.

Shrugging slightly, Kristen replied, "Honestly, I'm not sure. I just heard a commotion and saw you in a panic, so I wanted to make sure you were okay."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his attempt at being a hero. "Trying to be a hero, huh?" I muttered sarcastically. "Well, thanks, but I didn't need saving."

Kristen chuckled softly. "Nah, I try to be more like a villain," he explained. "Heroes are alright, but villains are way more interesting. And I'm definitely one of a kind." Despite my irritation, he continued to ramble about heroes and villains, his words flowing freely as he shared his thoughts on the subject.

"Stop it," I snapped, cutting him off. "What are you doing?"

Ignoring my irritation, Kristen glanced around and seemed to realize the situation. "Sorry, got carried away there," he said sheepishly. "Anyway, I'm glad you're safe now."

As Kristen trailed off, lost in his own thoughts, I quickly assessed the situation and realized it was safe to leave. Without another word to Kristen, I turned and made my way back to my room.

Meanwhile, as Kiara turned to leave, lost in her own thoughts,

Kristen lingered behind, his mind drifting back to me. "Hmm, she's interesting," he mused to himself. "Not like the other girls I've met. I wonder what she's really like. Maybe I'll have to come up with a nickname for her, something fitting for a girl like her since I don't know her actual name ."

As Kiara made her way out of the room, Kristen thoughtfully dubbed her "Midnight Princess," captivated by her mysterious allure and grace in the darkness of the night.

a sense of satisfaction washed over him. "Midnight Princess," he murmured to himself, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "You've done it again, Kristen. Always the master of names."

With a self-assured chuckle, he continued to walk, basking in the glow of his own success. "You're so great at choosing names, huh?" he mused aloud, a hint of pride in his voice. "Always getting everything just right. That's just who you are."

And with that, Kristen carried on, his confidence soaring as he reveled in his own charm and wit.

Author's Note:

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