Lena woke up to a sharp sting in her hand and a dull throb in her ankle, which had only grown worse with the passing hours. The quiet apartment felt as cold as her own shadow, a muted reminder of the night she'd spent hiding. She pushed herself up, feeling the stiffness in her limbs and the weariness that clung to her bones. Knowing she couldn't let this pain fester any longer, she decided it was finally time to get treated—thankfully, her brother's friend, Caleb, worked at a nearby hospital.
Lena shuffled into the hospital waiting area, her movements stiff as every step sent a bolt of pain through her foot. Caleb waved her over with a concerned look, guiding her back to a small, private examination room. A nurse took her vitals before Caleb examined her ankle, gently probing for any breaks. Lena winced, her teeth gritted, as he carefully moved her foot, his fingers pressing along the bruised skin.
"Let's get some scans, just to be safe," he said, his tone a bit sterner than usual. Caleb was always straightforward, but today, he had that professional edge to his voice, making Lena feel like just another patient. She waited, a sense of apprehension creeping up as she was led for X-rays and scans. The time dragged, the sterile air heavy around her, until Caleb returned, his expression unreadable.
"Nothing's broken, just a pretty bad sprain," he said, scrolling through her scan results on the tablet. "The cuts on your hand aren't deep, but you're lucky—if you'd left them untreated, you'd probably be dealing with an infection by now."
Lena shifted, feeling a flash of embarrassment. "I… yeah, I just got busy," she muttered, trying to avoid his gaze. She could feel the weight of his stare, a mixture of concern and disappointment.
"Busy? You've been limping on this foot since yesterday?" Caleb shook his head, letting out a sigh. "You really shouldn't let things like this sit. Next time, come in sooner." He handed her a small bottle of painkillers and some antibiotic ointment. "Keep it clean, and stay off that foot as much as you can for a few days."
She nodded, feeling slightly chastised but grateful for his care. He took a few moments to bandage her hand and ankle, his touch gentler than she'd expected, though his expression was still serious.
As she rose to leave, Caleb's voice softened. "Lena, take care of yourself, okay? And don't worry about the bill. You're family."
"Thank you," she murmured, feeling a pang of guilt as she walked out, grateful but a bit overwhelmed by the concern.
Outside, the world seemed washed in a soft light, like the city was offering a rare moment of warmth. She allowed herself to linger, soaking in the ordinary afternoon. It reminded her too much of the day before she'd accepted that insane job. Back then, she hadn't known that "normal" was something she'd soon lose. She wished she'd let herself appreciate that day more, wished she'd just taken the time to savor how simple life could be.
Her thoughts drifted to Alex. She wondered if he'd show up again, that unsettling mix of charm and mystery clinging to him. She didn't know if she was more scared of seeing him or… disappointed by the thought of never seeing him again.
As she walked back toward her apartment, Lena decided to grab a coffee from the small corner café she used to visit. She didn't expect to find her friend working, but one of the baristas recognized her and offered a polite smile. Reluctantly, she handed over her credit card, nerves prickling as she waited to see if it'd go through. She didn't need another reminder of how thin her finances had worn, but to her relief, the payment cleared.
Coffee in hand, she settled into a corner seat, carefully elevating her foot. She reached for her phone, the screen cracked but still functional enough to let her scroll through her banking app. As she began checking her accounts, she felt a familiar weight press down—a reminder of bills piling up and the looming eviction notice. But… the screen showed something different. Her rent was paid, the balance cleared.
Heart racing, she clicked into her transaction history. Her eyes scanned each line until they froze on one entry. A large, mysterious deposit, credited to her account the morning after the graveyard shift. She stared, struggling to process the numbers, her breath catching in her throat.
hLena hadn't given anyone her bank information. And yet, here it was: her rent paid, the amount deducted, a mysterious sum deposited right after that harrowing night. She stared down at the transaction history, her fingers trembling as she traced over the screen, feeling like the walls of her small world had closed in a little tighter.
An uneasy shiver crept up her spine, and she glanced around the café, half-expecting to see someone watching her, hidden in the shadows of the corner tables or lingering just outside the window. The afternoon light filtered in, pale and thin, doing little to soften the sharp edges of her fear. The familiar hum of people chattering and coffee machines whirring around her faded into a distant murmur, leaving only the cold silence that lingered in her chest, growing louder with every heartbeat.
She wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, but the warmth didn't reach her fingers; instead, they stayed numb, her mind circling back to the thought of someone out there who knew how to reach into her life without permission, how to leave a mark without her even noticing. It was like a shadow looming just beyond her field of vision, waiting, watching.
The money… it felt like a brand burned into her, less a payment and more a warning, a reminder that she was tethered to something far beyond her understanding. And, perhaps, an ominous promise that whatever she'd become entangled in wasn't finished with her yet.
She brought the cup to her lips, sipping the lukewarm coffee, but her throat felt tight, her breath shallow. Outside, people drifted by, their shadows stretching long and thin across the table. They flickered over her hands, like fingers reaching out to pull her back into something dark and unfathomable. She flinched, her gaze darting away from the window, feeling an irrational urge to hide from the prying eyes that surely must be somewhere, lurking just out of sight.
As her thoughts spiraled, she caught herself gripping the cross around her neck, pressing it into her skin as though it could anchor her to something real. Every time her mind drifted back to that night—the hurried footsteps, the stranger's voice, the way shadows seemed to curl around her like an embrace—her pulse spiked, and the comforting brightness of day seemed to drain away, replaced by a haunting chill that clung to her like fog.
She glanced back at her phone, the screen still open to her transaction history, each number glaring back at her like a silent threat. She knew, with a deep, unsettling certainty, that they weren't done with her. If they'd gone through this much trouble to find her—to thread their influence into her life so effortlessly—then whatever they wanted wasn't something she could just ignore.
But who could she tell? Her fingers hovered over her phone, yet she knew how absurd it all sounded. Who would believe her? That some stranger had pursued her through the darkness, that they had left their mark on her life so thoroughly she was starting to feel like her own shadow was something to fear? There was no escaping this. Not in the way she wanted. And trying to fight it or dig deeper might only make things worse.
Lena pulled her coat closer, sinking back in her seat, watching the shadows lengthen outside. She was grateful, at least, for the quiet anonymity of the coffee shop, for the temporary feeling of safety the mundane routine provided. But even as she sat there, she knew this fragile calm wouldn't last.
Lena pushed herself up from the table, her legs unsteady, her mind still spinning.
She couldn't shake the memory of those men from that night—There was something chillingly deliberate about them. They weren't just angry or pushy; they seemed like they'd already decided exactly what they wanted to do.
Just thinking about it brought a nervous heat to her skin.
Without a second thought, she dumped the rest of her coffee in a nearby trash can, barely noticing the way the dark liquid splashed against the plastic liner. She just needed to get out of here, to feel the open air, to escape the suffocating sensation creeping over her.
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Lena took a slow, measured breath, her fingertips brushing against the cool metal of her apartment door as she secured the lock. It had been four days since that night—four days since she'd discovered they weren't done with her. She'd bid her time, waiting for her injuries to heal just enough to let her move with less pain, carefully planning her escape. But even now, on the verge of putting her plan into action, the tension in her chest hadn't eased. If anything, it had grown sharper, taut as a wire strung through every nerve.
The quiet thrum of the hallway seemed to echo around her, amplifying every sound: the hum of the overhead lights, the faint ticking of pipes, the whispering creak of the old building settling. Each noise stirred a wave of panic that climbed up her spine, steady and unyielding, coiling around her nerves. She tightened her grip on her bag, her senses alive to every detail, as though each one could be her last glimpse of safety.
She could feel the rough texture of the wool cap against her fingers, grounding her, a slight comfort in the storm of apprehension battering her mind. Her clothing, chosen deliberately for warmth and stealth, brushed against her skin, but it couldn't stop the cold that seemed to have rooted itself in her bones since that night. Even the soft thud of her footsteps against the carpet sounded too loud, too revealing, as if the shadows themselves were listening, waiting for her to stumble.
As she reached the elevator, she couldn't stop her eyes from darting around, scanning the dimly lit corridor. The silence felt unnatural, pressing in from all sides, dense and heavy. Her heart drummed against her ribcage, each beat loud and insistent, a silent reminder that escape was her only option. She couldn't tell if it was the oppressive stillness or her own racing thoughts, but the air felt thick here, as if charged with something dark and unseen.
The elevator button was cold under her fingertip, a stark contrast to the warmth trapped in her palms. Each sound she made seemed magnified, reverberating in her skull. She strained to listen, every faint creak or rustle sharpening her nerves. She tried to steady herself, focus on the mechanical hum of the elevator approaching, but it was no use; the silence seemed to devour everything, leaving her isolated in her own frantic heartbeat.
The doors finally slid open, revealing the dimly lit interior, but as she stepped forward, an instinctual dread shot through her, setting her every sense on high alert. She felt a prickle, like unseen eyes watching her, invisible yet undeniable. The weight of that gaze pressed down on her, heavy and inescapable.
Then, without warning, a crushing darkness fell over her, swallowing the faint light. Her pulse spiked, her breath caught in her throat, and her senses seemed to implode, leaving her stranded in an abyss where time lost meaning. She reached out instinctively, her fingers splaying against the cold metal doorframe, the only tether she had in a world that had suddenly gone black.
In that suffocating void, the darkness felt alive, pressing against her skin, sinking into her bones as if marking her.