my room. The thought flees as fast as it came, and before I know it, I’m stomping the curb.
The misting of rain glistens under the streetlights. Cars passing make the world seem safe. It’s still moving, people milling around, living their lives. I push on, tiring my legs, forcing myself forward even when my calves burn and demand a reprieve. The rain hurts my skin as it tears across my face, but I don’t stop. I run. And run.
My lungs burn, screaming for a break. I slow my pace until I’m at walking speed. Condensation creates clouds around me. Fog creeps across the field to the park, coating the grass. Streetlights flicker above me, making the hairs rise on my arms, the trees rustling with the power of the wind whispering to each other. Nighttime has fully claimed the sky darkening my surroundings.
I stretch my limbs and turn back. The streets have emptied. There’s no one around, only my heartbeat pounding in my ears to keep me company. Fear begins to bloom like a flower seeking the sun within me. Every sound and shadow has my mind firing off. Tugging out my earphones to hear any impending danger, I internally berate myself for letting the fear take root inside me and ruin simple things like a jog I’ve done a thousand times before. This is what sickos want. They want us scared. Checking over our shoulders. Not leaving the house. My roaring heart dulls out every other sound as anger replaces the fear. Seeing shadows dance and transform into boogey men is irrational. I won’t allow myself to stop living.
“You can come out of there now, sweetheart.”
No. No. No. My brain screams when I suddenly collide with a wall of man. My body jolts from the impact. Jerking back, my ankle twists onto its side, almost tipping me off the curb. Two firm hands grip my arms, stopping me from falling at his feet. My instincts are to disengage his hold, but I find myself mesmerized. Beard, full lips, those eyes. “It’s you,” I say dumbly, breathless. Can a person steal the air from your lungs?
“It’s me.” He smiles. It’s the first time I’m hearing his voice, and it strokes places inside that haven’t been touched by another in a long time.
It’s awkward. He’s held on to me longer than necessary, and I haven’t pulled free. I’m clumsy when he does release me. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I plant them on my hips, sucking oxygen into my lungs. “Well,…thanks for not letting me fall.” I smile tightly, dipping my eyes to his feet, my cheeks heating a hundred degrees. He reaches out, tipping my chin up with a brush of his fingers, making a gasp wisp past my lips. It’s intimate—too intimate. The simple touch sets a blaze over my skin. I step back from his touch, feeling vulnerable and confused. “I should go.” I shake my head to clear it. I don’t say goodbye as my legs start moving away. Pain shoots up my ankle, begging me to take the weight from it, but I carry on running, sneaking a look over my shoulder every couple seconds. He hasn’t moved. He's just watching me, his silhouette lit by the streetlight like a painting, a beautiful piece of art that should be on display in galleries.
I almost fall into our pitch-black apartment, slamming the door and resting my spent body against it. My chest heaves, trying to drag air into my lungs. I feel exhausted and alive at the same time. “You okay?” Charlotte asks from the couch, making me screech.
“Why the hell are you sitting in the dark?” I scold, walking over and flicking on the lamp.
“I swear I saw movement in her apartment. It’s better to see with the lights out. Why are you all sweaty and gross?”
“You know I went for a run. She may have company and doesn’t like the lights on—not everyone is as confident as you.” I wave a finger up her body for emphasis.
“You went for a run ages ago and she’s always half naked waltzing around, there’s no way she’s shy.” Rolling my eyes, I head over to the sink, grabbing a glass and filling it twice. The cold water swills in my stomach, reminding me I haven’t eaten. Opening the fridge, I pull out old pizza and stuff half a slice into my mouth. My insides groan, protesting the intrusion. “That’s hideous. You live like