Get Home Safe

A cold chill runs through me as I step into the cool night air. I turn around to lock the door to the bar where I am unfortunately employed. The damn thing wants to give me trouble, of course. I slam my body into the door and simultaneously turn the key. The lock clicks into place with a deafening screech. I let out a deep breath and adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder before tossing my keys inside.

I hate working this late. The bar doesn’t close until 2 AM, and by some sleight of hand, I always get stuck with closing duty. But the tips are good, and I can’t exactly work during the day, seeing as I’m taking classes five days a week.

I hold on tight to my purse as I start off in the direction of my apartment. It usually takes me about fifteen minutes to get home, depending on my pace.

The streets of downtown are abandoned. The ground is wet. It must have rained during my shift. The deserted, glistening concrete is a cruel reminder of the chill in my spine.

I let out a shaky breath through pursed lips and glance around me. I’m still alone. So I continue walking.

A stoplight to my left turns yellow, despite no idling vehicles. The night is given a sinister glow when it flicks again to red.

A few moments later, I hear the tell-tale sign of footsteps on the wet pavement behind me. I glance over my shoulder, and I shudder slightly when I find what I was hoping I wouldn’t. There’s a man there.

The hood of his jacket is pulled over his face, cloaking it in darkness. He walks with his head low.

I quickly glance again. He’s about thirty feet behind me, and his pace is steady. It doesn’t appear that he’s following me, but he is walking in the same direction. Where did he come from? He wasn’t around when I locked up the bar, or the last time I checked my surroundings.

I hug my arms close to my chest and continue walking, trying not to worry myself while still remaining keenly aware of his position behind me. He must be walking slightly quicker than me now, because his footsteps are certainly growing louder. When I look back again, he’s closer and gaining on me relatively quickly.

I take in a sharp breath. I begin to rack my brain for things I can use to protect myself if this man does indeed have ill intentions. There’s a can of mace on my keys… But they’re in my purse, and I would have to stop and rummage around in it to find them. There are no establishments that I can walk into until I feel like it’s safe to continue. There is no one around to help me should I need it. 

My breathing is becoming slightly heavier now. I look back again to find that he is now only about ten feet away. I’m preparing myself to use my bare fists, teeth, and feet as my method of defense. He won’t get me without a fight. I will make sure that anyone within a two-mile radius will hear my roars.

I quicken my pace as I round the corner onto the next street, and I’m so focused on the man behind me that I run straight into the chest of another, causing me to wobble slightly and my purse to fall to the ground. The impact causes everything inside to spill out onto the wet concrete in various directions.

The man in front of me grabs onto each of my arms to steady me. “Whoops,” he says in a cheerful tone. “Sorry about that.” The traffic light turns green again.

The man who had been walking behind me suddenly rushes past us, avoiding the commotion. I allow myself only a moment of relief before bending down to pick up my things. The man that I ran into helps me. I give him a grateful smile when everything is back inside my purse, aside from my keys, which I now clutch firmly in my hand. Normally, my manners would be much more acute, and I would actually use the words thank you, but I seem unable to form any words. 

He says, ”Get home safe,” and continues walking in the direction he was headed. I let out a big breath, then finish turning the corner. The other man is nowhere in sight. His fast pace must have carried him to his destination. 

The rest of my journey is uneventful.

I throw my head back in annoyance when I start to stick my key into the lock of my front door, and I realize that it isn’t latched. I’ve complained about this to my landlord a dozen times. I guess I’ll have to call him again in the morning.

I sigh and push the door open. I hear my cat’s bell as she bolts up onto the couch the moment the door is open. I close it behind me, use my body weight to make sure it’s latched, then lock it.

The exhaustion immediately settles in now that I’m home. I pause and gently rub Stella on the head before I continue my slow walk into the kitchen. I toss my purse onto the counter upon entering and pull my phone out of my back pocket. I’m finally able to check any messages that I missed while working.

I close my eyes and aggressively rub them at the text message from my sister. Dad has gone on a bender again and hasn’t been seen in three days. She’s been begging me to come home to Chicago, but that would mean putting my own life on hold… Again.

I love my father, but I can no longer give him any of my energy. I have so little to spare. I told him so the last time he did this to us. It’s been six months, and I haven’t spoken to him since. 

I close the text message without responding and open my mail app. I click the most recent email with the subject line “Identity Verification.” It’s my health insurance company asking me to submit an image of my ID to verify my recent claim. I’ve been getting the most debilitating headaches of my life lately. I missed two days of work last week, terrified that the loud music and crowd would make me feel like someone was twisting a dull pencil into my cranium.

I open my purse and begin to rummage through it. I suppress a groan when I realize that most of the things inside are wet. I had been in such a hurry to get everything up and get off the street that I hadn’t even noticed. After a moment, I accept that my driver's license isn’t in there. It’s either at work, or it’s still on the sidewalk. Either way, it’s a problem that I can’t rectify tonight. 

I walk into my bedroom, my feet screaming at me to sit down. I plug my phone in and watch the battery symbol light up before setting it on my nightstand. My eyes are watering from the exhaustion now. 

` I pull my hair into a bun and walk to the bathroom. I turn the shower on, allowing the water to get warm while I strip off my clothes. Fog quickly fills the small room. I pull the shower curtain back and step into the stream, closing my eyes.

Despite the warmth of the water, there are still goosebumps on the surface of my skin. There is something particularly vulnerable about taking a shower this late at night… Or early in the morning, I should say.

I’m not washing my hair tonight. I don’t have the energy for that. I wash my body off and step out of the shower. I wrap a towel tightly around me and walk back into my bedroom.

I slip into some pajamas and climb into bed. “Stella,” I say into the darkness. She doesn’t come, so I turn over, and my eyes easily flutter closed.

There’s a thump under my bed, and her bell dings softly. I try to ignore the disturbance, but then there’s another thump. I sit up straight. “Stella,” I say slightly more aggressively. I wait a moment, and in the darkness, I see her silhouette jump onto the bed. She prances over to me, and I lie back down. She chirps softly as I begin to scratch her ears.

I cuddle her close to me, and I begin to drift to sleep again as my hands roam over her soft fur. Then, my eyes pop open again because I realize that her neck is bare. My mind races through all of the possibilities as I reach out in the darkness and feel around the nightstand for my phone. It isn’t there.

Then, my blood runs cold when, as Stella purrs against my chest, her bell rings out from under the bed again.