TEMPTRESS

VISITOR

The Dove
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Its been a couple days where I've been at home 'sick'. I can't ignore my job anymore. I promised Zeke I'd come in. Its my first day working at his branch, I know my day is going to be filled with boring math equations and ticking boxes, but I promised I'd come help my brother. Zeke isn't just my older sibling, he's also my best friend, the person I could always count on after mom died. The thought of disappointing him brings a lump to my throat. This job wouldn't just help me, but it'd help dad back at home to. We didn't grow up with riches or nice things, if anything throughout my childhood, my parents survived paycheck to paycheck in order to provide for us. I owe him so much, my father was a strong man, refusing to back down even after losing the love of his life, just for us. I'll forever be grateful to him. Hell I'll be in debt to him the rest of my life.

I drag myself out of bed, feeling drained of energy. The morning sun peeks through my curtains, casting those same long shadows on the hardwood floors. My potted plants on the bedroom balcony sway slightly in the breeze. I shower and dress in my new work attire, a simple black blouse and navy slacks. I hesitate briefly before slipping on my new heels. They're not quite comfortable yet, but I remind myself that I can adjust to anything, especially for Zeke. Grabbing my bag, I lock my apartment door, and venture downstairs. Outside, the crisp autumn air envelopes me in a comforting hug. Leaves crunch underfoot as I leave the courtyard, shutting the black gate and setting the lock. I make my way to the subway station. I brace myself for the hustle and bustle of rush hour commuters, the clatter of footsteps and murmur of voices blending into a cacophony of city life.

I find myself running in fucking heels, trying not to miss my train. It was a struggle to walk in these damn shoes, but running? Felt like torture. I speed up, catching up with the flow of people heading to the ticket booth. I wait in line, silently praying that I wouldn't miss my train due to some delay in purchasing a ticket. I'm a few minutes late already, so what's a few more? The line thankfully moved swiftly, and soon enough, I had my pass. I wonder if Eden was watching me. Maybe he'd follow me to work to. I hesitated, scanning the crowd gathered at the platform. An uneasy sensation crawled up my spine, prickling the hairs along my nape. Was that him? I squinted, trying to distinguish a familiar figure among the sea of strangers. My paranoia intensified, my heart pounding in my chest with every darting glance. "Excuse me miss". I gasped in fright, turning my head quickly. "Oh sorry, didn't mean to scare ya, you dropped this" an elderly man hands me my wallet. I must have dropped it when getting my ticket.

I'm grateful to the kind stranger, offering a small smile of thanks in return. I continue my scan of the crowd, my senses on high alert. Oh, it's just a random man in a hoodie, dammit Lyla you need to chill out. I scold myself internally, attempting to calm my frantic thoughts. I catch sight of the approaching train, its wheels humming loudly, vibrating the ground beneath my feet. I breathe a sigh of relief, hurrying towards the edge of the platform. The train pulls into the station, its brakes squealing loudly as it comes to a stop. The doors slide open with a gentle hiss, beckoning passengers aboard. I step inside, maneuvering past the throng of people crammed into the carriage. The smells of mixing perfumes and colognes fill the air, people on their way to work filled the space. I stand near the front, gripping the rail above my head, bracing myself against the rocking motion of the train. My eyes flick nervously between the faces surrounding me, constantly checking for sudden movements or signs of trouble. It's a familiar dance, one of self preservation and caution, one I've been continuing the last couple weeks now.

I reach into my bag, retrieving my smartphone. The touchscreen illuminates with a soft glow, revealing the time. 8:00 AM. Shit, I'm cutting it close. I mentally calculate the remaining time until my stop. I pull Zeke's address from my purse, double checking the route. The subway rumbles beneath my feet like thunderclaps in the distance. My eyes skim over the passenger, filled car, noting their varied expressions. Some immersed in their phones, others lost in their thoughts or engrossed in whispered conversations. I shift my weight, adjusting my stance. The ride proves bumpy, causing my arm to brush against the person beside me. Apologizing quietly, I lean further back, my shoulders stiffening. I can't shake off the feeling of being watched or followed. Every muscle in my body is primed for flight, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.