Yana's words were abruptly cut off as the automatic door slid open with a soft chime.
A man, probably in his late thirties, strolled in, wearing a dark suit that looked a little too sharp for a late-night convenience store visit. His expression was calm, almost too calm, as if this was just a regular part of his routine.
I immediately straightened up behind the counter, feeling an odd tension build. Yana, unfazed, kept her cheery demeanor as the man approached the shelves.
"Welcome, dear customer!" she chirped, but he completely ignored her, focused on what he was here to get.
A minute or so passed, and the man returned to the register, carrying a basket with... a rope, knife, and a roll of duct tape.
I blinked, trying to stay composed, but my mind was racing. Rope...Knife... And a duct tape? At this hour?
Yana, still smiling like this was perfectly normal, scanned the items without missing a beat. "That'll be twenty dollars and forty cents," she said, her tone light.
The man didn't speak. He simply handed over the cash and waited, his eyes avoiding ours, his face expressionless.
As soon as the transaction was done, he grabbed his things, turned, and left the store without a word. The automatic door closed behind him with its familiar ding, and we were left in an eerie silence once again.
I glanced at Yana, who seemed completely unbothered by what had just happened. 'Am I just being paranoid?'
Even though the customer left me feeling uneasy, I decided to brush it off. There was no point in dwelling on it, especially if Yana seemed so unaffected. I nudged her to continue with her story.
"Oh? You still want to hear it?" she teased, her smile growing a bit wider.
"Of course! I want to know what happened," I said, trying to sound casual but genuinely curious.
"Nah, you're still a baby," she said with a smirk, crossing her arms. "I don't want to scare you."
"Just because I'm baby faced doesn't mean I'm a real baby! Come on!" I protested, pouting at her like a kid wanting to hear the end of her ghost story.
Yana just laughed and, out of nowhere, poked my cheek. The unexpected touch made goosebumps rise from the nape of my neck all the way down my spine.
"If you really want to know," she said, her voice dropping to a mischievous whisper, "Just ask Xavier."
"Xavier?" I asked, curious."Yep, he's a handsome fellow," Yana giggled, covering her cheeks like a schoolgirl with a crush. "I'd totally make him mine if only I were a bit younger."
I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her comment.
"Although he's not much of a talker," she continued, "I can tell he's the innocent type. He doesn't react when I flirt with him, like at all! He's the total opposite of Kristoff."
Yana was now lost in her thoughts, her face lighting up as she thought of the two guys. I stifled a laugh. I guess she really likes younger men, I thought, amused by how she was acting.
"So... Kristoff?" I asked, curious now that she brought him up too.
"Oh, don't get me started on Kristoff," she said, rolling her eyes with a smirk. "He's trouble... but the fun kind."
It dawned on me that forming impressions solely based on Yana's opinions might not be the best idea. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd be able to get along with the others, not to mention the whole ghost business lurking in the back of my mind.
"Then, can you go take out the trash?" Yana asked, pulling me back to reality. "The garbage disposal area is right behind here."
Nodding, I gathered up all the trash from the inside and outside the store. With two full bags in hand, I headed to the back of the convenience store, just as Yana had directed.
Sure enough, the garbage disposal area was right there, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb hanging overhead.
As I stood there, the cool air brushing against my skin, I couldn't shake the unsettling silence. The kind that makes you aware of your own heartbeat. The flickering bulb overhead only added to the eerie atmosphere.
'Did people really die here?' The thought echoed in my mind, uninvited but persistent. Stories of people hanging themselves, car crash, and getting stabbed by robbers slowly crept in.
The garbage bags in my hands suddenly felt heavier, and my pulse quickened. I threw the last bag into the bin and took a deep breath. 'I should head back quickly,' I thought, glancing over my shoulder as if expecting to see someone—or something—lurking in the shadows.
Not wanting to linger a moment longer, I turned and hurried back toward the store, my footsteps almost too loud in the unnerving silence.