As I stepped out into the crisp Cape Town morning, the cool breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of the city. I placed my black cap on, the one Tristan gifted me two years ago, and a wave of nostalgia washed over me. The cap was faded and worn, but it remained my most treasured possession, a tangible reminder of Tristan's kindness. His bright smile and infectious laughter flashed in my mind, and for a moment, the ache of his loss felt fresh again.
Tristan had found me wandering the streets, lost, crying, and alone. The memory of that day still lingered, the feeling of desperation and hopelessness a heavy burden. But Tristan's warmth and compassion had been a beacon of hope. He took me to his place, and he and Lora took care of me, showing me a love and kindness I thought I'd never experience again.
Two years went by, and just when everything was going great, Tristan's life was cut short in a tragic head-on collision with a bus. The pain of that day still felt like an open wound. I remembered how devastated Lora was, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, her face pale with shock. She hadn't known yet that she was pregnant, and the thought of raising their child without Tristan by her side was a heartbreaking reality.
I took a deep breath, pushing aside the memories, and focused on the present. I quickly used my only arm to sling my school bag on, the familiar weight a comforting sensation. The school wasn't far, and the neighborhood wasn't bad – that's saying a lot when you're living in Cape Town. As I walked, the vibrant sounds and colors of the city surrounded me, but my mind lingered on Tristan, and the ache of his loss still felt like a heavy weight.
Even though I felt strange as I walked to school, at first, I felt like someone was following me, but that wasn't it. The sensation grew and grew until it just stopped. At one point, I felt like I was in a crowd of people, and the next, I was alone in a dark room. This is not the first time such things have happened. They usually last a little over a second, but for the past month, the feeling of unease has been growing. Even in my nightmares, there are fewer shadows than before. I think if I could try to make out the figure chasing me, but I never get the chance. It always starts the same, with me running, and ends with me getting grabbed by an unknown entity.