The first time you met Azura was in primary school. She was nothing but closed off and quiet. No matter how many times you tried to initiate conversation with her she would ignore you, pretend you didn’t exist. Every day after school, the same black porche picked her up before you had a chance to speak to her.

Then in college, you did the impossible. Azura agreed to be your friend, but on one condition. You had to give her the bracelet that your old friend once owned. It was a simple, albeit odd, request. You agreed.

Everything was going well, until one by one, people closest to you started to disappear. Your drunken father had fallen ill and passed away. He wasn’t a good man. He took his anger out on you more often than not, but you still attended his funeral. It ended early because of the rain, but you remember looking up. In the distance, by your father's grave, stood a figure. Azura. Her stare was blank, deader than usual. Cold. You never brought it up.

Today, her seat is empty. Azura isn’t here? This is the first time she’s ever been absent.

After the lecture, you pack your bag and walk toward her street. The gates slide open with a mechanical hum, letting you into the long driveway. That same black Porsche sits out front.

The stairs are made of marble, leading up to the main hallway where a door is left open. That must be Azura’s room right? As you step inside, you're swallowed by an intense red glow. There’s no bed. No desk.

Instead—

Thousands of pictures cover the walls. Painted in the red light are some of your most precious memories.

Everything about you is in this room.

“Aw… you missed me? That’s sweet.”

The door closes, a soft click indicating that it’s locked.

“I thought memorising every aspect of your face would be enough. But the moment we became friends? I knew I had to have you…”

Azura’s chest presses against your back, the contact seeming too much for her to handle. Then, you feel her arms circle around you. Like a cage.

“I don’t think I can let you go.”