# Chapter 10
Tara
Memories don't come back like a movie. There are no complete scenes. No clear sounds. No sequence I can make sense of. Memories come back like shards of glass. Little by little. Sharp. And every time I touch one, it hurts. Don't tell Bima we're here! That sentence keeps circling in my head. “Luna.” Raka grips both my shoulders. “Look at me.” I look at him. “Bima's there.” Raka falls silent. “When we were kids.” “I know.” “Why didn't you ever tell me?” Raka lowers his hands. “Because I didn't know how much you remembered.” I let out a hollow laugh. “Turns out everyone was really afraid of my memories.” Damar picks up his motorcycle keys. “I'll find Bima.” “Don't.” He stops. “He has Raka's phone.” “Exactly.” I pick up my phone. “Tara.” Damar frowns. “What?” “If that anonymous sender really is Tara, she has to know Bima took that phone.” I open the chat. Me: Bima took Raka's phone. Read. No reply. Me: Do you know where he went? The typing indicator appears. Tara: Meridian. Raka immediately looks at the screen. “No.” “What?” “You're not going there.” “Why not?” “Because this is too easy.” Damar nods. “Could be a trap.” I look from one of them to the other. “If Bima wants what's on that phone, then there's something he's afraid I'll see.” “And that's not a reason for you to go there,” Damar says. I slip my phone into my pocket. “I didn't ask for permission.” “Aluna.” “For twelve years, you two decided what I was allowed to know.” I look at Damar. “Now it's my turn.”
The three of us go together. Of course. There is no way Damar would let me go alone. Raka doesn't want to go home either. It's 9:17 p.m. when we arrive at the Meridian Building. The building looks different tonight. Usually, this place feels like a secret room that belongs to Raka and me. Now all I see is old concrete, dark stairs, and far too many corners where someone could hide. “Bima!” Damar shouts. No answer. We climb the stairs. The first floor. The second. The third. The higher we go, the worse my head hurts. Not from exhaustion. Because something feels familiar. Not the building. The smell. Dust. Rusty metal. An empty room. I stop. “Luna?” Raka turns. “I've been here before.” “We used to come here all the time.” I shake my head. “Not with you in high school.” Damar looks at me. “What do you mean?” I touch the wall. An image appears. A little girl running down a hallway. Tara in front. Raka behind her. But that's impossible. The building from our childhood wasn't Meridian. Or— “Bro.” Damar tenses. “The building where I was found…” I look at him. “What building?” He doesn't answer. Raka closes his eyes. I let out a small laugh. “No way.” I look around. “This is the building?” “It wasn't called Meridian back then,” Damar finally says. It feels like my chest has been struck. “This building was renovated years ago.” I look at Raka. “Is that why you brought me here?” He nods slowly. “I thought maybe you'd remember.” All our memories in this place suddenly feel different. The first time Raka brought me to the roof. The way he kept watching my reaction. The question he asked me then. Does this place feel familiar? I said no. He only smiled. “Why didn't you tell me?” “I was scared.” “Scared of what?” “Scared you'd remember why you forgot me.” I want to ask more. But the sound of something falling comes from the floor above. Damar moves immediately. “Behind me.” We go up. The door to the roof is open. The night wind hits my face. Bima is nowhere to be seen. There's only a chair in the middle of the roof. And Raka's old phone sitting on it. “Don't touch it,” Damar says. Too late. I pick it up. The screen lights up on its own. This time, it isn't locked. There's one video in the gallery. PLAY_ME.mp4 I press play. A woman appears. Tara. Not little Tara. Tara now. Her hair is longer than it was in her school pictures. A thin scar cuts near her left eyebrow. She stares into the camera. “Hi, Luna.” My breath catches in my throat. “If you're watching this video, it means Bima has taken the phone and brought it back to Meridian.” Damar swears under his breath. “And it means he's still doing the same thing he did back then.” The video shakes slightly. “Making everyone suspicious of one another.” I look at Raka. “There is something you need to know. Bima wasn't the one who locked us in the building twelve years ago.” I freeze. What? “He was there. He lied. But he wasn't the one who made you lose your memories of that night.” Tara stops. Her expression changes. Fear. “That person is still close to you.” The video cuts out. “What about the rest?” I ask. There is no answer. Only twenty-seven seconds. My phone rings. A message from Tara. Go down to the second floor. Raka immediately shakes his head. “Don't.” A second message. Alone. Damar takes my phone. “No.” I snatch it back. “She has the answers.” “She could also be the one orchestrating all of this.” I know. But I've already come too far. I walk toward the stairs. Raka grabs my wrist. “Luna.” I look at him. “Trust me just this once.” The words hurt. “I trusted you once.” Raka slowly lets go of my hand. I go downstairs. The third floor. The second floor. An empty hallway. The lights flicker. At the end of the hall is a room with its door open. I go inside. “Tara?” No answer. There is a table in the middle of the room. A laptop sits on top of it. Its screen is on. CCTV footage is playing. The date makes me stop. SEPTEMBER 3 — 12 YEARS AGO. I move closer. Three children enter the building. Me. Raka. Tara. A few minutes later, someone else follows. Bima. Then one more person. Their face isn't visible. I speed up the video. 9:08 p.m. Damar enters. 9:16 p.m. The police. Adults. Everyone runs. I'm found. But before that— 8:47 p.m. Someone leaves the room where we were locked up. I pause the video. Zoom in. My hands start to shake. I recognize the clothes. I've seen them in a family album. I recognize the way they walk. Even before the face comes into view, my body already knows. “No…” The person turns toward the camera. And for the first time in twelve years, a memory returns to me in full. Their hands gripping my shoulders. Their voice telling me to be quiet. Their face right in front of mine. I back away from the laptop. The door behind me makes a sound. Click. Locked. Then someone's voice comes from the corner of the room. “You should've stayed forgotten, Luna.” I slowly turn around. My entire body goes rigid. Because the person standing there isn't Bima. Not Tara. Not a stranger. It's someone I call every day— Dad.