The night pressed in with an eerie silence as I trudged down Greenbelt Avenue, the moon casting long, sinister shadows that danced and twisted ominously around me. Ren had wandered off earlier to spend time with that waiter she'd been eyeing all afternoon, her sudden infatuation not entirely surprising. Despite the distraction, we had a standing plan: she was to meet me up the block once his shift ended. As I waited, an uneasy feeling gnawed at me, a sense that something was terribly wrong but just beyond my grasp. The thought of having my own car one day flickered through my mind, a fleeting escape from the night's growing unease. It was supposed to be a simple meetup after my milling about town, but as the minutes ticked by, the stillness of the night felt suffocating.
Unease prickled at the back of my neck, an initial discomfort I tried to ignore. The chilly air, I reasoned, that's all. I walked further, a persistent sense of foreboding clung to me, refusing to be shaken off. Then, without any warning, some .. thing—a creature too strange to name—charged towards me. I screamed. Instinct urged me to fend it off. Could it be a wolf? A bear? It was too difficult to tell, shrouded in shadows as it was. In a moment of sheer panic, I ripped off my high heel and charged, emitting the loudest scream I could muster, my actions as bewildering to the creature as they were to me. Perhaps my erratic behavior was my saving grace, making me seem like a figure out of its worst nightmares. My scream intensified, channeling the war cries of heroines from the films of my childhood. The creature hesitated, then tucked-tail, but not before I rounded a corner and hurled my shoe into the darkness after it.
Panting, I turned to run, managing only a few strides before an overwhelming dread seized me. The night around me came alive, animated by grotesque figures emerging from every shadow. Their twisted forms and the eerie glow of their eyes closed in on me, their malevolence palpable in the cold air. My heart raced, panic clouding my thoughts. Rooted to the ground by an ancient fear, the world seemed to narrow, the air growing denser. I closed my eyes tight, summoning every bit of strength for one last scream. Someone had to hear. Someone had to come, right? I opened one eye to see the figures frozen in hesitation. I opened both eyes now, wondering if I'd made up the shadows in my head. The low growl coming from one was a good enough sign my panic was justified.
Salvation pierced the night in the form of glaring headlights. Ren's car screeched to a halt in front of me. "Get in!" she shouted. I yanked the door open, threw myself inside, and slammed it shut just as Ren floored the accelerator in a manic escape. The terror receded with each passing second, replaced by the pounding of my heart.
"What were those things?" I managed, my voice trembling.
Ren glanced at me, puzzled. "Things? You were screaming at shadows, Evie. I heard you from the street over; thought for sure you were in some serious trouble." She paused to take me in. I could only imagine what I looked like. "Where's your shoe?"
I shook my head. "I... I thought I was being attacked. It felt so real."
"You thought you were being attacked so you threw your shoe?" She shook her head in disbelief and I sunk squeamishly into the seat. I buckled up, rubbed my eyes, and tried to erase the images that had felt all too real.
"Evie...Evangeline!" Ren's voice snapped me back to the present.
I blinked, returning to her concerned gaze. "Sorry. I guess I was lost in thought."
"Why'd you change locations? We agreed on meeting at Handy's." The haze of the red street light magnified her already fiery hair as she continued staring.
"I saw some homeless guy and thought I'd get him a bag of burgers or something. I don't know. Sorry."
Ren sighed, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "Jesus, stop apologizing. I'm the dick who left you for some...uh, well...I won't be redundant."
"And how'd that go?" I tried at the eyebrow raise but, as usual, it must've come across like half my face was paralyzed because Ren burst into a fit of laughter. I sighed and threw my head back on the headrest.
"No changing the subject. You can't just risk your safety for the sake of someone else, Evie," Ren pressed, her voice carrying a mix of concern and frustration. Ren's empathy, I knew, had its limits, especially when it came to what she saw as taking unnecessary risks.
"You don't know that," I countered softly, the weight of the night's events bearing heavily on my shoulders. My decision to help the homeless man, to change my route for his sake, didn't feel like a mistake to me. The gratitude in his eyes was a moment of human connection I cherished, even as the rest of the evening spiraled into unforeseen chaos.
Ren's gripped the steering wheel. "I'm not debating this with you. It's Skid Row. Do I need to bring Martha into this?"
"Please, just take me home. And next time you ditch me for some guy, make sure I have a way back," I muttered, my words carrying a mix of frustration and resignation.
A moment of silence followed, heavy with unspoken apologies. "You could've Ubered," she finally whispered with a hint of guilt.
The remainder of the ride home continued in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts. She pulled up to my apartment and we said our goodbyes.
I watched her car disappeared into the night and stood for a moment outside the apartment building, the unease from earlier still clinging to me like a second skin. The building itself straddled two worlds—the north street one entry to Skid Row, the south, middle class. Pushing through the lobby, I quickened my pace, eager to distance myself from the shadows of Greenbelt Avenue and the questions swirling in my head.
The quiet elevator ride to the fifth floor didn't help my racing thoughts. Once inside my apartment, I immediately locked the door behind me, the click of the deadbolt a small comfort. Chewie, my faithful little companion, greeted me with a wagging tail and joyful barks.
I knelt to embrace him. "Hey, Chewie," I whispered, burying my face in his fur, finding solace in his unconditional love. After a moment of much-needed affection, I made my way to the kitchen to prepare a cup of hot tea, hoping to soothe my frazzled nerves.
The kettle hissed and steamed, its whistle breaking the silence of the apartment as I replayed the night's events. The shadows, the fear, Ren's rescue—was it all a product of my imagination? My mind refused to settle, each memory sparking more questions than answers.
Wrapped in a blanket, I curled up on the couch, the warm mug cradled in my hands, when the door opened. Brad stepped in, the epitome of charisma and confidence. His handsome features were underscored by a smug smile, his arms laden with a mini cake and a bottle of wine.
"Happy 21st, babe," he announced, setting down his offerings on the coffee table. My eyes couldn't help but notice the cake—half-eaten, a testament to Brad's thoughtfulness, or lack thereof.
"Got stuck in traffic," he continued, noticing my gaze. "Figured I'd start the celebration early." His laugh was easy, unfazed by the situation, as if the state of the cake was a minor detail, unworthy of concern.
Despite everything, my heart softened. "Thanks, Brad," I managed, the unease momentarily displaced by the semblance of normalcy he brought.
Brad opened the wine, pouring us each a glass. "Now that you're legal, we can celebrate properly." He raised his glass, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face, oblivious to my steaming cup of tea I'd already made.
I forced a smile and sipped the wine, the liquid warmth spreading through me. The comfort it offered was superficial. The events of the night lingered, a shadow over the celebration.
"Everything okay? You seem off," Brad finally noted.
I hesitated, the truth of the night poised on my lips. But looking into Brad's eyes, full of concern but lacking understanding, I opted for simplicity. "Just a weird night. I'm glad you're here now."
Brad nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation, and moved closer, his presence a familiar comfort. However, as I leaned into him, the unease from Greenbelt Avenue refused to be silenced, whispering doubts about what lurked in the shadows—and whether or not I'd gone crazy.
He rubbed my arm slowly, one finger barely touching my skin. His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered, "You know the best way to end a weird night, right?"
And there it was. I unfurled myself from my comfortable position and grabbed his empty glass of wine. "Not sure I feel like it, Brad."
"Aw come on, babe. It isn't a true celebration until it's been consummated, right?"
I cringed at his choice of words and opened a can of dog food as a diversion. Chewie was at my feet within seconds. "When did that word ever enter your vocabulary?" I attempted to steer the conversation towards lighter waters, hoping to dilute the dread that had taken root. I tapped the food into Chewie's bowl and tossed the can in the trash.
Brad's enthusiasm waned, registering my lack of interest, and his playful demeanor gave way to irritation. He stepped back, eyeing me with a mix of disappointment and annoyance. "You're really going to let a bad mood ruin your birthday?" His tone, edged with blame, suggested that my reaction was not only unexpected but also unwelcome.
I stood there, a mix of guilt and defiance churning within me. Was it my responsibility to reciprocate simply because it was my birthday?
"Fine," Brad huffed, his frustration evident. "If you're going to be like this, I'll just leave you to it." Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his coat and headed towards the door, casting one last look of reproach my way before disappearing into the night.
The click of the door closing echoed in the empty apartment, leaving me in a silence that felt both oppressive and liberating. Chewie's quiet presence offered little in the way of distraction from the whirlwind of emotions.
Had I overreacted? Was his attempt at romance, flawed as it may have been, worth dismissing so quickly? His gesture, while obviously self-serving, had been an attempt to connect. I couldn't help but wonder if my response had been too harsh, too driven by the shadows that lingered from my night on Greenbelt Avenue.
I decided to seek refuge on my balcony, a place caught between the stark contrasts of my neighborhood. Chewie, my ever-faithful companion, joined me, offering silent support against the chaos of my thoughts.
Leaning on the railing, I wished the cool night breeze could erase the troubling thoughts swirling in my head. The distant hum of the city faded, leaving me alone with my doubts.
Martha's words about Los Angeles echoed in my head, a reminder of a history that hadn't favored my family. The city had been unkind to my mother, leading her down a path to a reality she couldn't escape. The fear that I might follow in her footsteps, that tonight's visions weren't just remnants of fear but signs of a deeper, inherited darkness, left me reeling.
For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a life beyond the city, beyond the fate that seemed to loom over me.
My peace shattered when I opened my eyes to a figure across the street. A man, enshrouded in darkness, stood staring up at me, his intentions as obscure as his form. The sight grounded my fears in a new reality.
Our silent standoff stretched, unnaturally long, until his cigarette sparked to life, briefly illuminating his face. Clutching Chewie tighter, I retreated into my apartment, my first act to check all the locks.
My phone vibrated on the kitchen counter and I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound. I swiped the screen and Ren's face filled it, her fiery red hair as much a testament to her spirit as any words could be. "Hey, birthday girl!" she greeted, her concern apparent as she took in my appearance. "You look... What happened?"
"Brad happened," I sighed, settling onto my bed with Chewie beside me. "Brought over a half-eaten cake and a bottle of wine."
Ren snorted, her eyes rolling in disdain. "Classic Brad. What a prince. He ever hear of a thing called effort?"
"It seems not," I muttered, finding a small smile as Chewie cuddled closer.
"You deserve so much better, Eva. You know how I feel about him. He's like a plastic plant—looks okay from afar but totally useless."
I laughed. "I could really use less drama right now."
"Speaking of less drama," Ren brightened, shifting the topic. "Tomorrow! Martha and I have everything setup. It's not on your actual birthday, but we're going all out."
I laughed, genuinely touched by their efforts. "I'm looking forward to it. I've always felt a bit on the outskirts with everyone else," I admitted, playing with Chewie's fur.
"You're not on the outskirts, Eva. You're the core," Ren insisted, her warmth reaching through the screen. "You've always been there for me, like the big sister I needed."
Our conversation, a blend of plans and laughter, bridged the physical distance between us. I ended the call with Ren, my mind a swirl of laughter and lingering unease. Despite the comfort of my bed and Chewie's warm presence beside me, sleep felt like a distant promise. The moonlight, slicing through the darkness of my room, offered peace. As calming as the silver beams were, my nerves, raw and jittery from the evening's encounters, couldn't stand the vulnerability of an open window. With a sigh, I pushed myself out of bed, Chewie's eyes tracking my every move.
Padding across the cool floor, I reached for the curtains, ready to shut away the night and its shadows. That's when I saw him—the man from across the street. It was as if he knew...knew exactly when I would approach the window, for his gaze shifted from the monstrous silhouette at his side to meet mine. A chill skittered down my spine, the connection immediate and unnerving.
My focus wasn't on him but the beast, the hauntingly familiar figure standing next to him,. The very creature that had sparked fear in my heart on Greenbelt Avenue, the reason I had escaped with one less shoe. There it was, as real and terrifying as it had been in those fleeting moments of panic, now standing calmly by the man's side as if it belonged in the urban night.
The beast's eyes, gleaming in the moonlight, seemed to bore into mine, a silent challenge, a reminder of the encounter that had left me shaken to my core. The realization that this creature, this nightmare made flesh, was linked to the man watching me from the darkness added layers to the fear that coiled tightly within my chest.
For a long heartbeat, we stood there, locked in a silent standoff that stretched the seconds into infinity. My heart pounded, a rapid drumbeat against the stillness of the night. It was a moment suspended in time, a tableau of the surreal encounter that bridged the gap between the mundane world of my apartment and the inexplicable reality unfolding just across the street.