The woman, the one who called her Caleb — didn't notice Jessie freeze. Or maybe she did, but she mistook it for Caleb's usual calculated stillness.
Jessie's eyes stayed locked on the figure in the window. That face. The same lips that curved into a half-smile when she handed over the champagne… the same eyes that had stared without pity when Jessie's knees buckled and the darkness swallowed her.
Now here she was, with warm light behind her and a feeling of safety on her side of the glass while Jessie was out in the cold, soaked, wearing another man's face.
"Caleb," the woman's voice snapped Jessie's attention back, "We don't have time for sightseeing. Let's move." Jessie's throat tightened.
'Arghhhh' she screamed inside.
The urge to run — to crash through the door and demand answers — burned hot. But her instinct, or maybe Caleb's muscle memory, forced her to keep walking.
The further they moved from that window, the heavier Jessie's body felt. Like she was walking away from a truth she wasn't ready to face.
They then cut through a narrow alley that was slick with rainwater. Their every step echoed too loudly against the brick walls. Jessie tried to focus, to piece together the fragments rattling in her mind… but suddenly —
*Pssshhhhhh*
It wasn't rain anymore. It was water lapping against something. It felt thick... like... a swamp. It was dark with mud clutching at her boots. Her stomach burned, hot and wet. She pressed her hands there and they came away red. Trees hunched overhead like silent witnesses. Then—
A blinding flashlight. Too bright to see the face behind it. Then came a voice, it sounded muffled but urgent: "Do you want to die, leaving them behind?"
"Them? Who—?"
"Caleb!"
The woman's voice yanked her back into the alley. Jessie stumbled and blinked hard. The swamp was gone, replaced by wet concrete and the smell of fried food from a nearby shop.
Was she just in a memory...?
By the time they reached the target building, another rundown apartment — Jessie's shirt was clinging to her skin, rain dripping down her thick neck. The woman moved first, sliding the door open just enough to slip inside. Jessie followed with a heavy heart and every nerve screaming caution.
Inside, the light was dim and yellow and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. Looking ahead, two men sat at a table, one with a gun resting on the wood in front of him.
Both looked up.
"Caleb," the man with the gun said, a grin tugging at his mouth. "Haha! I heard you were half-dead. Guess they were wrong."
Jessie forced Caleb's lazy smirk. "Guess so."
The woman dropped her wet jacket on a chair and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, pressing against her voluptuous chest "We need information. Like... right now."
The man laughed. "You're going straight to business, huh? What's the rush baby?"
Jessie barely heard them. Her eyes drifted to the hallway beyond, where a door stood slightly open. She didn't know why, but something about that sliver of darkness made her skin crawl.
She barely registered the conversation ending until the woman grabbed her arm.
"We're done here."
They stepped back into the rain while Jessie stayed quiet, replaying the swamp and the flashlight in her head.
Hours later, they were back at the cramped room from before.
*PLOP*
Jessie collapsed into the chair, exhausted. The woman tossed her a set of dry clothes before disappearing into the other room.
She didn't change immediately. Instead, she stared at her hands — Caleb's hands — and thought of her old life.
Her father's face came to mind. It wasn't clear but she could imagine the emotions on it, not warm, not worried. Just… absent. She could remember being sick as a child, waiting by the window for him to come home.
He didn't. He never did. And now, in this strange body, the ache was still there, lodged in her chest like a shard of glass.
She didn't realize her fingers were trembling until the knock came as three simple short raps on the door.
She stiffened and her instincts sharpened in a way that didn't feel like hers, like her sheltered self.
'Caleb's reflexes. This guy's body is really strange, how much memory does his muscles have?'
While drowning in her thoughts, the woman — still half in shadow, stepped out of the other room, drying her long, wavy hair with a towel.
She glanced at Jessie, with a naturally seductively tempting look "You expecting someone?"
"No," Jessie replied flatly. Her voice didn't sound like her own. It was lower, rougher, as if it had been dragged over gravel. 'Arrrrrrgh' she moaned inside, she would have to get used to this.
*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
The knock came again, harder this time.
The woman tilted her head toward the door. "Caleb, do you mind checking it."
Jessie rose with her every step toward the door sinking her deeper into Caleb's body, Caleb's stance. She was getting used to this body little by little.
She moved as she racked the door open…