Page 117 of Rags's Awakening
“Now you’re both getting on my nerves. I’m walking home. You’re both overreacting, especially you.” She pointed at Sarah. “And stop crying. People are staring.”
Abby shook her head. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it, you better go while there are still people around. Call me when you get home, okay?”
“I will.”
“Don’t forget,” Sarah said, dabbing her cheeks with a tissue.
“I won’t. Go on so I can get moving.” Jessica laughed.
Her two friends turned and headed toward Abby’s car.
Jessica clutched the strap of her purse to keep it from slipping off her shoulder, a minor annoyance she always hated. She smiled when she heard Abby’s engine sputter, then turn over. Abby was probably watching her in the rearview mirror. And Sarah was definitely turned around, likely still crying.
Sarah’s so over the top. Imagine making such a fuss about me walking a few blocks home.
She shook her head and crossed the street.
Most of the small brick homes she passed had their curtains drawn, blinds shut. Still, she spotted a woman standing at a kitchen sink, maybe washing dishes from a late dinner or prepping meals for the week. Jessica often did that on Sundays. Light leaked from the edges of blinds and between drawn curtains, casting long, thin strips across dry lawns and concrete porch steps. A few windows flickered blue from televisions, while one two-story house glowed warmly, lamps lit in several rooms, spilling comfort onto its quiet porch.
She inhaled the fresh scent of pine, mixed with the faint smokiness of wood-burning fireplaces. Turning right onto Birch Street, she passed a brightly lit house with a child’s bicycle and toys scattered across the lawn. A tight knot formed in her stomach—a mix of fear and envy—followed by the familiar ache of loneliness settling in her chest.
She was terrified, truly panicked that the empty, silent house she was walking toward was all she would ever have. In the past several years, she’d managed only four dates before the texts stopped coming. She felt like a failure. Like something was wrong with her.
And then that nice man had bought her a Bismarck at her favorite bakery. Flirted shamelessly and made her feel seen. Her heart had swelled.
Then nothing.
Jessica turned right again onto Elm Street.
All at once, the light vanished. It felt as if the houses and the people inside them had been swallowed whole. She stopped and looked around. Not a single light glowed in the scattered homes lining the street. This stretch was broken by vacant lots, land bought cheap by investors waiting to build and flip for profit.
She’d never noticed how dark it was here. She was usually in a car, never paying attention to how forlorn the neighborhood felt at night.
Behind her, the houses were still lit. Farther down, the bakery and convenience store were closing for the evening. But here, there was only darkness. The clouds slid over the moon, snuffing out the stars that had seemed so bright earlier when she and her friends spilled out of the theatre laughing.
A single streetlight flickered, buzzing like a dying bee as she passed beneath it. It flared bright for a moment, and she stopped. Then it dimmed again.
Someone’s there. In the shadows. Behind the oak tree.
Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she was sure he could hear it.
The light snapped bright again. Clutching her chest, she stared at the tree. Nothing. For several seconds, her eyes fixed on it, but nothing moved. Just the cold breeze curling around her.
A long breath pushed through her nose.There’s no one there. I’m spooking myself.It was all that nonsense Abby and Sarah had been saying. Anyone would feel jumpy after the way Sarah carried on.
The wind moaned through the oak trees, their bare branches clattering like skeleton bones. The hair on her arms prickled. Was it just the branches, or footsteps?
Scared to turn around, Jessica quickened her pace. One more block.
Then she froze.
Someone is behind me.
She took a step. Heard another behind her. Or was it ahead? Across the street? Panic clamped down like a vise.
Someone’s following me.
Her grip tightened on her purse strap until her knuckles ached.
