Returning Shadows

(1) Dog Walkers, not Stalkers.

CHAPTER 1
Dog Walkers, not Stalkers.

I hadn’t been out all day, and I knew if I didn’t do something, I would have a restless night.

I ran upstairs and grabbed my coat from the wardrobe, slinging it on and doing up the buttons. It was one of those long coats that would cover the bum of a normal person, but went down to about mid-thigh on me because I’m short. But being short isn’t that bad, right? I would fit snugly under a man’s arm. I smiled at the thought, and then grimaced. Yeah right, like I’m going to be ‘fitting snugly’ under any guys arm any time soon. I’m a loner. I even go out in the evening when it’s dark to avoid talking to people.

I mentally slapped myself, and wound a scarf around my neck, contemplating wearing a hat too. It was pretty cold out. I pulled a purple beret out from my drawer that would match my outfit and put it on. I looked at my reflection in the mirror for a moment, before snatching the beret off and tossing it on my bed. Hats were definitely not me.

I legged it back downstairs into the living room. The warm air enveloped me as I entered. It was freezing upstairs.  “I’m going out for a walk,” I told my mum, who was curled up comfortably on the sofa with a book.

I watched her reaction for a second. She didn’t like me going out on my own, especially in the evening before it gets dark. “Want to come?” I asked, crossing my fingers and hoping she would say no. If she came, she wouldn’t want to walk far, she would be paranoid about walking in the dark, and she’d probably wear those silly ballerina flats and get sore feet, then I’d never hear the end of it.

“No, there’s a programme I want to watch on telly,” she responded. “Don’t be too long, and take your phone.”

“I can’t. It isn’t charged,” I said. I kind of deliberately didn’t charge it. I hated using a mobile, and on top of that, I’d be getting text messages every five minutes from mum, demanding to know when I’ll be back.

“You really need to take it with you, Lexi. What if something happens?”

I clutched the penknife in my coat pocket, but didn’t tell her I had it on me. “I’ll be fine,” I assured her.

I like to keep a knife on me, you know, just in case someone tries it on with me. Besides, I usually ended up at the beach anyway, and sometimes needed a knife to cut through some rope that washed up.

“Don’t be too long,” Mum repeated.

“I won’t.”

I crossed the room and out into my dad’s office. “I’m going out for a walk,” I said. “See you later.”

“Alright, love,” he replied, barely looking up from his computer. He was an avid writer, always typing something up. “Don’t forget to lock the door on your way out,” he added.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, my family is pretty paranoid. I guess some of it rubbed off on me. My older brother, Eliott, worries sometimes too, especially about me going out alone. I would probably get a bollocking from him when I got back, unless I got home before him and somehow managed to keep it a secret—which was highly unlikely with mum around.

After closing the door to my dad’s office—right up—to stop the draft from entering, I went out to the back place to put on my shoes. Black lace up Doc Martens. They were my favourite boots and I practically wore them everywhere, and with every outfit, despite countless complaints from mum about how ugly they were.

I stepped out through the back door, and locked it behind me, as instructed, cramming the key into my jeans pocket. I unlatched the gate, standing on my tippy toes to reach the lock that was right at the top of the wooden gate.