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My mother was warned by every neighbour in the street to never go on their land, nor knock on their house.

My mother would hate it when the ball accidentally rolled over to our neighbours lawn, she would scold me for the rest of the day and would leave the ball there until it would deflate and turn useless.

I used to watch it in the same exact spot for the last ten years, the neighbour would never kick it over or hand it back and my mother fears to go over and ask for it back or ask to retrieve it.

My mother then warned me.

She drilled my window closed, taped it with dark tape and made sure to never see through it. Mostly because the window of the silent neighbour was directly opposite to mine, growing up with the same darkness in my room was not a nice thing. I only ever enjoyed sunlight out in my garden or my lawn. I never had the chance to see the moon through my window, I never had the chance to be a rebel teen and sneak out because of the screws.

All because of that neighbour.

She made sure I would never see the neighbour that lived there.

Everyone in the neighbourhood wanted them kicked out for no reason, they were never seen, never heard of and they never open their door. They never left their home. It was almost as if...no one lived inside that house?

But-only I saw the little boy who lived there. And only I know about it because my mother would trap me in my room for even making eye contact with them.

I remember playing in my garden, I was chasing butterflies and trying to grasp one in the butterfly catcher I had. Once I was tired, I settled down onto the top of the red slide, and my eyes got the better off me and looked up.

I looked up into one of the windows of the next-door neighbour and a pair of blue ones shot right back at me.

The most assertive eyes peered through the window, expelling the last of the night's sleepiness from our minds.

They were the colour of a clear blue sky seen through a broken prison wall, a perfect raindrop on a blue aster, and a river rushing to join the great ocean.

He looks only a few years older than me, and he looked so-sad? So alone? I could see it in his eyes, I remember his hair being dark and his skin fair. He was short and he looked around eleven, I gave him a little wave. A wave he gave back. A wave he smiled whilst doing so, and then...I see a hand wrap around his wrist and drag him back into the darkness.

Three years later, I never saw the little boy again.

Three years later, I am mourning my mother death.

She was murdered during a home break in whilst I was at a sleepover, and the police closed of the investigation as that. I was chucked into a care home for the rest of my teenage years.

I never once went back into that home and now, I am leaving the foster care.

I am finally leaving to go to college in Seattle, moving away from New York and all the bad memories.

I lift the final box into my truck, my social worker, Jane, wipes her final tears. This was it, after spending nine years in foster care, I am finally moving out and going on to start my life in Seattle. I have gotten in at one of the best mathematic universities in the world. All my scholarship.

"Okay, everything is packed, the truck has a full tank and-you're leaving me." She whispers in shock; Jane became more of a second mother to me. I have begged her to adopt me for nine years, but she kept on reminding me that she can't. She was young then. I did not blame her though. "How are you feeling Nova?"

"Nervous, but happy to be out of this dump." I returned; she chuckles before widening her eyes. She scurried through her handbag, her blonde hair falling against her face as she pushes it back behind her ears. That moment, she took out a black box and handed it over to me. I glanced at her then back at the present being given to me.

"Open it," she whispers, I do as I was told, my fingers glide against the leather box, removing the red ribbon. It falls softly against the ground; I couldn't help the smile being painted onto my face as I slowly opened it.

Then, immediately closed it.

No. No. No, it could not be.

My lips quiver, shock plasters onto my face. "Are you serious?"

"I do not want you living in that rubbish student dorms they give out, I saved up enough for rent for the next nine months but after that you have to pay for it." I take out the keys with the number forty-nine, I jump into her arms with my legs wrapped around her waist.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I repeated, and I'll continue doing so for the next thirty minutes if she wanted.

"Happy Birthday Nova, you deserve it."

"You are literally the best," I climb off her. "Thank you, Jane, really, it means a lot to me."

"Now, off you go, go before you ruin your scheduled plan." We gave each other one last hug, and in that hug was every sincere thank you I could give her.

Jane deserves the most in this world, she got me through my mothers death and helped me achieve my dreams on becoming the best mathematician in the world. She was a huge part of my life.

I take my keys from my bag and start walking towards my car, toward my independent life.

I glided in, slamming the door behind me. I inserted my keys into the ignition and twisted it to start the car. I press a button that lowers my closed windows, and Jane waves goodbye. I return her wave, knowing it could be the last time I see her. I stepped on the gas slowly, the car moved, and I inhaled deeply.

This was actually happening. As I drove onto the highway, one of my hands rested on the windows and the other on the steering wheel.

The sunset was slowly approaching, like a multicoloured painting. What else would I expect at five a.m., the wind splashing onto my face? My eyes closed briefly before opening again.

I am a very scheduled person, and by scheduled, I mean I like doing this by lists.

It's been a few miles, with a few breaks at petrol stations, but then I arrived at the block of apartments. I park into car park and close my door behind me. A good drive from my university, I walk to the boot and pull out my box before making my way towards the entrance.

I look down at the message Jane provided me with the address of my apartment, level 15, door 49. The entry of the apartment was beautiful, with marble floors, glass windows, and a reception area that was empty for a security man who waved at me.

When I press the elevator button, the doors automatically open, and I glide inside, pressing down on my number. I placed the box between my legs.

The doors close as the elevator ascends, I turn my head and read my list from my notepad. I had my to do list on go, The first on the list was to be settled in the dorm, of course now I have to scratch that off and write my new apartment. I scratched it off the list. The doors notify me when they open, I pick my box and walk down the hallway, all the way towards the end.

I look around and see the number 49.

I rest my box onto the ground, push my keys into the lock. However-it is not working. I raise a confused brow and continue to push my key inside. Oh, come on!

Suddenly the door opens- I was met with a stomach. A stomach filled with various types of tattoos, a stomach with beautiful abdominal lines and features. My neck betrays me and begins to fall back to get a good look of this person.

My eyes meet a set of dark blue ones as one arm rests at the top of the door. I've never seen blue so-blue before. That, too, did not make sense. His eyes were beautiful.

His long lashes betrayed him by attempting to conceal them, his heavy brows furrowed, and dark black hair had tumbled down his face. I observe the water drops make contact with my shoes; he wore a towel around his waist.

And then I notice the hearing aids in one of his ears, and now I had no idea what to do? If I spoke, would he hear me or? "What do you want?" It was a question but felt more like some sort of order to fuck off. I have never in my life felt more intimidated by someone, but-the energy he gave off was just-frightening.

"I-I-This is my apartment..."

He just slammed the door right in my face, and I hear footsteps depart.

I just stood there in utter shock. He looked so familiar. I am about to knock onto the door again before someone grasps my wrist gently and pulls me away. My eyes catches a glimpse of an old woman, her hair was short and grey, the dress she wore exposes her light skin.

"Let us step away..." She whispers before leading me to another door with the number forty-nine. My eyebrows rose in confusion, I turn to the door opposite me, and the old lady shift the fallen nine into a six.

Oh.

"He's so rude, he just slammed the door in my face." I say.

"Oh, dear love, we don't go near that door...no one in the flat does...the man that lives behind it is Alexander Solonik."

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