Shadows in the Rain
Submitted to: Contest #317
Written in response to: "Write a story with the line “Don’t you remember me?” or “You haven’t changed…” via ReedsyPrompts
The city had a way of swallowing people whole. Claire knew that, had always known it, but she had convinced herself that she’d outrun the shadows. Rain slicked streets reflected neon signs in fractured, trembling colors, and the wind carried the wail of sirens, the hum of traffic, and the occasional shout from someone unlucky enough to be caught outside.
She rounded the corner near the old warehouse district, the storm having come without warning, and the umbrella in her hand barely keeping her coat dry. Then she saw him.
A figure leaned casually against a lamppost, shoulders hunched against the rain, like he belonged to the darkness itself. Claire froze, her heart pounding. There was something hauntingly familiar about him.
“Claire?” His voice was calm, but low and urgent.
Her stomach clenched. “Do I… know you?”
He stepped closer, water running down the brim of his hat, his eyes locked on hers. “Don’t you remember me?”
The words hit her like a bullet. Memories, sudden and unwelcome, flared to life—summer nights, laughter, smoke, a gunshot, a world she thought she had left behind. The name came unbidden: Eliot.
“Eliot,” she whispered.
“You haven’t changed,” he said, taking another step closer, eyes scanning her like he was confirming a truth he had long hoped for. The same fire in her eyes, the same stubbornness, the same instinct to survive.
Her hands trembled, half from the cold rain, half from the sudden surge of fear. “What… what are you doing here?”
He shook his head. “I came to warn you. They know you’re back. They’ve been waiting.”
“Them? Who knows me? Who’s waiting?” Her voice cracked, betraying panic she hadn’t felt in years.
Eliot’s gaze hardened. “The Harrows. They never forgot. And they’ve been watching. Tracking. Waiting for this moment.”
Claire’s mind raced. Ten years. Ten long years since she had walked away from everything that mattered, trying to vanish into ordinary life. And now, she realized, it had been an illusion. She could never outrun the shadows, and the people who lived in them.
“Why now?” she asked. “Why me?”
“Because you remember. Because they can’t risk you disappearing again. And because…” Eliot’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I need you to help me stop them.”
Her chest tightened. “Help you? I’m not a part of this world anymore.”
“You always were, Claire,” he said, pressing something into her hand. A small device blinked, showing a map of the city, red dots pulsing like warning lights. “They’re everywhere. Your car, your apartment, every place you’ve been. You can’t hide.”
She stared at it, panic twisting her stomach into knots. Her careful life—the normal life she had fought to maintain—had been a lie. The world she had tried to forget had never let her go.
“They want you dead,” he said, his eyes locking on hers. “I’m the only one who can keep you alive long enough to fight back.”
The weight of his words pressed down on her chest. She wanted to run, to deny it, to believe she could still disappear. But she knew better. There was no escaping the Harrows—not then, not now.
Eliot glanced over his shoulder. “We have no time. They’re closing in.”
Her pulse raced. Every instinct screamed at her to resist, but curiosity and survival instincts won over. “Okay. What’s the plan?”
“We move,” he said. “Run, hide, strike if we have to. And trust me.”
Minutes later, they slipped down an alley, shadows swallowing them as the storm hammered around them. Claire’s thoughts spun. Eliot had always been skilled, but the precision with which he moved now—it was as if he had never left that dangerous world they both knew.
“They’ll come for you tonight,” he murmured, keeping low. “You can’t hesitate, Claire. You can’t second guess. Not once.”
The sound of a vehicle approaching—tires slicing through puddles—made her heart skip a beat. A black SUV turned the corner, headlights cutting through the rain. Figures emerged, moving with predator-like coordination.
“Stay down,” Eliot whispered, pressing her against the crates behind them.
Her hands shook, gripping the device like it was a lifeline. She had fought to live in the shadows before, and now it was happening again, faster, sharper, more urgent. Her mind replayed lessons she had learned long ago: observation, patience, movement, control.
“They won’t see us yet,” Eliot murmured. “We’re shadows tonight, Claire.”
Her pulse thundered. The memories of the past—of fires, smoke, narrow escapes, and near misses—blended with the present, sharpening her senses. She understood now why Eliot had returned. They were both in this together, whether she liked it or not.
“Remember the plan?” he asked softly, almost a reassurance.
She nodded, steadying her shaking hands. “Yes. Run, hide, strike if necessary.”
A figure in black paused, scanning the street. Claire held her breath. Another glance, a step closer—but they didn’t see her, didn’t see Eliot. She realized how much she had forgotten the thrill of hiding in plain sight, how much she had missed it.
Eliot touched her arm. “You haven’t changed. Still quick, still sharp.”
For a heartbeat, she felt something that had been missing for years—a spark of recognition, of connection. Then the danger returned, sharp as the rain pelting her face.
The SUV pulled away, figures disappearing into the shadows, unaware that their prey had already moved. Claire exhaled slowly, letting relief wash over her. She followed Eliot, steps quick, silent, hearts pounding in tandem. The storm masked their trail, the city oblivious to the hunt unfolding in its alleys.
“Why now?” she asked again, once they were safely hidden in a derelict building. “Why come back to me after all these years?”
Eliot’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second. “Because some debts don’t expire. Because I couldn’t let you face them alone. Because…” His voice dropped, heavy with unspoken memories, “…because you are the only one who can finish this.”
Claire looked at him, realizing that she had thought she had outgrown that life, that she could be normal, that she could escape. But normal was an illusion. And Eliot… Eliot had never really left her side, not entirely.
The storm raged outside, the city screaming and alive, and Claire felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: purpose. Fear and adrenaline mixed into something fierce and unrelenting. She would fight. She would survive. And she would make sure the shadows never claimed her again.
Line included: “Don’t you remember me?” and “You haven’t changed…”
