When a nagging feeling becomes a deadly reality, how far would you go to protect yourself in the dark?
The Echo in the Shadows
Heather Jenkins couldn’t shake the sensation of eyes crawling over her back. Her friend Sherry called her paranoid, and her colleague Mark had routinely offered to walk her out to the dark parking lot. But her supervisor, Stacy Lomax, had given different advice: Trust your instincts and take precautions.
Trusting her instincts hadn’t brought peace—it had brought sleeplessness. Averaging barely four hours of fitful rest a night, Heather felt her reality fraying at the edges. How could she report a mere feeling to the police? Instead, she adapted. She enrolled in intense self-defense classes, purchased a handgun, and spent hours at the range until loading, aiming, and firing became muscle memory.
Still, the dread swelled daily, rising like the crest of an inevitable tsunami.
Tonight, Mark was out of town. The office lot was desolate, swallowed by a thick, oppressive fog that rendered the overhead streetlights useless haloed blurs. Keys clutched between her knuckles, Heather reached her car door when the damp silence shattered.
“I’ve waited a long time, Heather.”
The voice was low, raspy, and stood less than six feet behind her in the mist.
Heather’s heart hammered against her ribs. Years of instinct and recent months of rigid tactical training collided in a split second. Her right hand slid into her jacket pocket, her fingers instantly locking around the cold, reassuring steel of her pistol. She spun on her heel, finger resting lightly against the trigger.
A shadowy silhouette emerged from the grey gloom, stepping within striking distance, hand reaching outward.
How does Heather’s story end? Does she draw her weapon, or is the voice someone she never expected? Write the final chapter in the comments below!
