This Night

At first, she could only hear footsteps whenever she walked. It was dark out; she should’ve known better than to walk down a dark street at night. She wouldn’t have even been outside, but her coworker begged her for help. Begged. So, she stayed late. She worked hard. She left after dark. Her coworker offered to give her a ride, but she refused to be a burden. They lived on the other side of town. There was no point to her wasting their time. So, she said she would walk. She liked walking, especially when the weather was nice. It wasn’t bad. It was healthier for you, too.

She looked around, but the dim yellowing streetlights only illuminated the sidewalk and weeds. When she first noticed the footsteps, she thought it was the echo of her own feet against the brick walls of the downtrodden apartments that lined the street. But it wasn’t. It was a heavier, clunkier sound that popped a millisecond behind her own light steps. It was just faint enough for her to question whether it was there, but just loud enough for her to know that it really was and that someone was, indeed, following her.

She sped up, and the footsteps behind her sped up, too. She slowed down, and they slowed, too. She stopped and they stopped. She skipped and they skipped. It was as if the person who owned the feet were a clairvoyant, reading her mind and predicting her steps before she ever took them. She stopped and looked around again. More sidewalk. More weeds. No sign of another person. No sign of anything that could’ve been making the sounds at all, actually.

This is impossible, she thought to herself, I must be going crazy.

She put on a brave face and walked on, desperate to reach her doorstep. Her fingers wrapped tightly around her keys. Still, clunk, clunk, clunk, just behind her feet. The clunking got louder, louder still, and she didn’t know what to do. She thought about calling someone, but who could she call? Who would understand? Who was even close enough that they would come to her aid?

A car passed lazily by and she considered flagging them down for help. Before she could react, they were gone and the street was dark again. The sound of the engine roaring, tires scratching pavement, and faint music lulling from good speakers hung in the air. But when it was gone, only her footsteps remained. No. Hers and those that fell behind her.

I just need to ignore it. Ignore it and it will go away.

Her thoughts were obtrusive and foreign in her mind. How could she ignore another person? How could she ignore the footfalls? How could she press on?

Just ignore it. Think happy thoughts. Think about something else. Think about anything else. Just keep thinking and walking and thinking and walking.

A cough. Her cough? His cough? How did she know it was a “him”? It could be anyone behind her. She choked down her fear and rushed forward, desperate to get away. She had to get away. She had to survive this night. If she could survive this night, she would never again let herself walk home alone in the dark. She would get help, she would find someone who understood. She thought again about calling someone but her hands were too shaky, her palms too sweaty, and she nearly dropped her phone three times before she gave up and just put it away.

Are you even real? She tried to ask, but her fear swallowed her words and she gasped for air. Who are you? She tried to scream, but the words couldn’t come up despite her best efforts. She looked behind her again, but… was it a shadow of a lamppost? Was it a shadow of a tree? Was it a person? She couldn’t tell. She stumbled and nearly fell, so she turned her head forward again and kept pressing on towards home.

The fear was overwhelming as the footsteps got louder. Clunk, clunk, clunk. The person must’ve been wearing boots or heavy soled shoes. She gasped and broke out into a run. Thick, heavy fingers closed around her throat and wrenched her backwards. She tried to scream but a hand clasped down on her mouth.

She looked up into an ink-black-face with white, soulless eyes. She reached out a hand but it passed through the murky figure as if nothing were there. The hands tightened around her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She could barely think.

Just survive this night! Just survive this night! Just survive! SURVIVE!

The dark figure growled at her menacingly. It was… her boss? No, her boyfriend? No, her mother? No… it was everything and nothing all at once. She felt hands pull at her hair, at her face, at her body. Hands ripped the flesh on her arms and left deep, lengthwise-gashes up her wrists. Claws tore at her stomach and left gouges in her skin and outstretched scars.

She screamed despite the hands constricting her throat and pinched her eyes shut. She felt her own hands wrap around wrists and pulled with all her might away from her throat. She tried to bite down on the hand that held her mouth closed but her teeth closed on… nothing?

I’m not crazy! I can get help! I can breathe! Breathe! BREATHE!

She collapsed onto her bed in a fit of sobs and hugged her favorite pillow tight. The hands receded from her throat. The pain subsided. The gashes lingered, but faded away until there was little sign of there ever being anything on her arms or stomach or throat. She ran her hands through her hair and small strands came out, tied around her fingers. When had she entered her home? When had she unlocked the door? When had she passed the threshold of safety? She didn’t know. She didn’t remember. She could still feel the icy kiss of the hands around her throat, the flaming heat of the slashes on her body; she could still hear the clunk, clunk, clunk of footsteps falling mere moments behind her own.

Still, she had survived this night.