Instinctively, Heidi turned toward the sound, expecting to see someone lingering in the doorway.
But the entrance stood empty.
The bells above the laundromat door still swayed gently back and forth, their faint metallic jingling continuing long after whatever had disturbed them should have passed through. Heidi stood frozen beside the folding tables, one hand still clutching a stack of towels against her chest while her pulse began to quicken painfully beneath her ribs.
The front door had not opened.
She knew it hadn’t.
The deadbolt was still turned.
The long turquoise handle hadn’t moved.
Yet the bells continued their slow trembling.
What the hell was that?
The question echoed through her mind as she stared into the dim laundromat. The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed softly above her, casting long pale shadows between the rows of washers and dryers. Everything looked normal. Quiet. Still.
Too still.
Outside, a wave crashed hard against the shoreline, the sound rolling through the open windows like distant thunder. Heidi could feel it in her chest, that low hollow vibration beneath the floorboards, beneath her skin.
The island suddenly felt enormous around her.
Ancient.
Watching.
“There is nobody fucking here,” she whispered under her breath, though the words sounded unconvincing even to herself.
Still, the uneasy feeling remained.
No—
It worsened.
A strange cold sensation crept slowly up the back of her neck, the same instinctive dread she’d felt the night of the stranger in the laundromat. Heidi’s eyes drifted toward the darker back corner near the industrial machines.
Nothing there.
Just shadows.
And yet she could not shake the overwhelming certainty that she was being observed.
“Hello?”
The word sounded too loud inside the empty laundromat.
Immediately, Heidi regretted speaking.
Silence answered her.
Only the slow winding creak of the bells overhead as they finally settled back into place.
Her fingers tightened around her bag strap. Every rational part of her brain screamed that she was being ridiculous. Overtired. Emotional. Overstimulated from the last few days of chaos, sex, fear, and too little sleep.
But another part of her—the quieter, older animal part buried deep beneath logic—felt something else entirely.
Danger.
The thought of the man from the ocean rose instantly into her mind. Green eyes. Saltwater skin. The feeling of his mouth against her thigh.
The bite beneath her dress throbbed sharply in response, almost as if his memory itself could trigger it.
“Jesus Christ,” Heidi muttered shakily.
She grabbed her things in a hurry after that, moving quickly through the final closing tasks before locking the laundromat door behind her. She checked the deadbolt twice. Then a third time for good measure.
The humid night air wrapped heavily around her as she crossed toward the narrow staircase leading to her apartment above the laundromat. Palm leaves rustled softly somewhere in the darkness while the ocean continued its endless crashing below the cliffs.
Usually the sounds soothed her.
Tonight they felt ominous.
By the time Heidi stepped inside her flat and shut the door behind her, her heart was still racing.
She locked that door too.
Then leaned back against it with a long exhausted exhale.
“What the fuck was that?”
The apartment greeted her in warm low light and familiar clutter. Laundry invoices sat stacked neatly on the kitchen counter beside her laptop. The scent of detergent, incense, and ocean air lingered softly through the rooms.
Normal.
Safe.
At least it was supposed to be.
But the feeling from downstairs clung stubbornly to her skin.
Her thoughts drifted unwillingly back to the stranger again.
To the way she’d let him touch her.
To the way she’d wanted him to.
And now, standing alone in her apartment with the bite pulsing beneath its bandage, the whole encounter suddenly felt less thrilling and far more dangerous.
How could I have been that reckless?
The thought came sharp and immediate.
She moved toward the couch slowly, fingertips brushing the edge of the bandage beneath her sundress.
“You’re supposed to be running a business, Heidi,” she muttered bitterly to herself. “Not fucking mysterious sea creatures in your laundromat.”
The attempt at humor landed weakly.
The truth sat heavier underneath it.
She had built this place to save herself. The laundromat. The apartment. The island. All of it was supposed to be a clean beginning after years of feeling broken open by the world.
And now some strange beautiful man had wandered in from the ocean and left marks on her body that looked increasingly less human by the hour.
The bite stung sharply beneath her fingers.
With a frustrated sigh, Heidi lifted the hem of her dress and carefully peeled back the bandage.
The sight of the wound immediately turned her stomach.
The bruising had spread farther.
Dark branching veins curled outward beneath her skin in delicate spiderweb patterns, faintly purple beneath the warm apartment light. The center of the bite looked darker too, almost bruised from underneath rather than above the surface.
Alive.
That was the word she kept trying not to think.
Alive.
Her fingertips hovered near it carefully.
“They always have to fuck shit up, don’t they?” she muttered bitterly.
Men.
Always arriving like storms.
Leaving destruction behind them for women to survive afterward.
The memory of him still carried heat though, and that confused her more than anything else. Even now, frightened and unsettled, some traitorous part of her still remembered the pleasure.
Still remembered wanting him.
Heidi quickly rewrapped the bandage before she could spiral further and headed into the kitchen instead.
Tea.
Tea would help.
Normal people drank tea and answered emails instead of contemplating whether they’d slept with some sort of ocean demon.
The kettle hissed softly on the stove while she opened her laptop and forced herself into work mode. Receipts. Spreadsheets. Numbers for her CPA back on the mainland.
Grounding things.
Practical things.
For nearly an hour she lost herself in bookkeeping until she finally glanced toward the clock.
7:45.
“Fuuuuuck.”
Enough time for a quick shower before meeting everyone at Sam’s.
The thought of Lila softened something immediately inside her chest.
Lila.
Her kiss from earlier still lingered in Heidi’s mind with dangerous clarity. Soft lips. Gentle hands. The warmth of her kneeling between Heidi’s knees while carefully bandaging the bite.
The complete opposite of the stranger from the laundromat.
Lila made her feel safe.
The realization settled deep.
Steam soon filled the bathroom as Heidi stepped beneath the hot spray, letting the water loosen the tension in her shoulders. She tilted her head back beneath the stream with a long sigh, eyes drifting closed while the island air and strange anxiety slowly melted away.
Her thoughts wandered inevitably toward Lila again.
The softness of her mouth.
The quiet protectiveness in her voice.
The way she’d looked at Heidi’s bruised body without disgust or pity.
A faint blush warmed Heidi’s cheeks beneath the steam.
I really do care about her.
The thought arrived gently.
And then, inevitably:
I am absolutely going to touch myself thinking about that kiss.
A startled laugh escaped her.
But before the thought could settle further—
BANG.
The sound exploded through the apartment violently enough to make Heidi jump.
Then another crash.
And another.
Furniture scraping.
Glass shattering.
Something slamming hard against the walls.
Her blood turned instantly cold.
The shower suddenly felt freezing.
Heidi snapped the water off immediately, breath caught painfully in her throat while chaos erupted beyond the bathroom door.
Something was inside her apartment.
Moving fast.
Tearing through the place.
“What the fuck—”
Panic surged through her body.
She grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it tightly around herself, dripping wet and trembling while the crashing continued outside. Her mind immediately flashed back to the laundromat.
The bells.
The feeling of being watched.
The man from the ocean.
The bite on her leg suddenly throbbed violently beneath the bandage.
Warning her.
Heidi’s eyes darted desperately around the tiny bathroom searching for anything she could use as a weapon.
Nothing.
Shampoo bottles.
A loofah.
A thin metal hairpin beside the sink.
Pathetic.
Still, she grabbed the hairpin tightly enough for the metal to dig into her palm.
Outside the bathroom, something slammed hard into the kitchen wall.
Then—
Silence.
Complete silence.
The sudden absence of sound felt even worse somehow.
Heidi stood frozen, barely breathing.
Every instinct screamed at her to stay hidden.
But another voice inside her—angrier, fiercer—rose to meet the fear.
This is my fucking house.
Slowly, she stepped toward the bathroom door and opened it.
The apartment beyond looked like a hurricane had ripped through it.
Papers scattered everywhere.
Furniture overturned.
Books torn from shelves.
Broken glass glittering across the floor.
White feathers drifted lazily through the air beneath the dim apartment light like strange falling snow.
Heidi stopped breathing entirely.
“What…”
The room looked impossible.
Like violence itself had exploded through the apartment.
Then she saw the blood.
Bright crimson droplets streaked across the white tile floor in a winding trail leading toward the open patio doors.
Blood spattered across her curtains.
Blood smeared against the walls.
And at the end of the trail—
Something moved weakly.
A seagull.
Large.
Broken.
Dying.
Its feathers were soaked crimson, one wing twisted unnaturally beneath its body while shallow gasping breaths rattled through its tiny frame. Heidi stepped closer slowly, horrified.
Then she saw the wound.
A bite mark.
Deep.
Raw.
Violent.
The same shape as hers.
The flat was quiet now, save for the sound of the waves outside, crashing against the rocks with steady, relentless force. And as she stood there, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her own safe space had been invaded by something she couldn’t understand, something that was far from finished with her.
