Chapter Three: Stress Does Strange Things
702 Words
By the time Lena reached the edge of town, her legs felt numb.
Not from the cold.
From everything.
She didn’t look back at the forest.
She refused to.
If she looked back, it would mean she believed something had been there.
And she didn’t.
She couldn’t.
The streetlights buzzed faintly overhead, casting warm circles of light on the snow. Cars passed occasionally, tires hissing softly against the road.
Normal.
Everything was normal.
Her heartbeat was still too fast.
“Get it together,” she muttered under her breath.
You just got cheated on.
You were emotional.
It was dark.
Your brain filled in the rest.
That’s how trauma works, right?
She tried to replay it in her head.
There had been a shape.
Large.
Moving between the trees.
But the memory blurred when she tried to focus on it.
Did it really have silver eyes?
Or did she imagine that part?
And the man—
Her stomach twisted.
He had definitely been real.
Hadn’t he?
She could still hear his voice.
Calm. Steady. Like he wasn’t confused at all.
That was the strangest part.
He hadn’t seemed surprised to see her.
He had seemed… certain.
She shook her head quickly.
No.
You are not romanticizing this.
She had just been publicly humiliated by her boyfriend of eight months.
Of course her brain wanted to create something dramatic to distract from that.
A mysterious stranger in the woods?
Very convenient.
Very cinematic.
Very not real.
By the time she reached her house, her hands had stopped shaking.
See? she told herself. If it were real, you wouldn’t calm down this fast.
She unlocked the door quietly and slipped inside.
The house was dark. Peaceful.
Her parents were already asleep.
Everything inside looked exactly the same as it had that morning.
Which meant the world hadn’t shifted.
Which meant she hadn’t either.
She leaned against the door once it clicked shut and let out a slow breath.
“Stress hallucination,” she whispered.
That made sense.
People saw things under pressure all the time.
She’d read about it somewhere.
The brain misfires when emotions spike.
Especially after betrayal.
Especially after heartbreak.
She pushed off the door and headed upstairs.
But when she reached her bedroom and closed the curtains—
Her chest tightened again.
Because part of her expected to see someone standing outside.
Watching.
There was nothing there.
Just snow falling softly in the night.
You’re spiraling, she told herself firmly.
She sat on the edge of her bed and buried her face in her hands.
Maybe this is what breaking feels like.
Not dramatic crying.
Not screaming.
Just… reality bending slightly at the edges.
Her wrist tingled.
She froze.
Slowly, she pulled her hand away from her face.
The sensation faded almost instantly.
Like static.
She turned her wrist under the lamp light.
Nothing.
No mark.
No glow.
Just her skin.
Her breathing grew shallow.
You are not losing your mind.
You are not.
She stood abruptly and crossed to the mirror.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Same brown hair.
Same tired eyes.
Same flushed cheeks from the cold.
Normal.
“You imagined it,” she told the girl in the mirror.
“You were upset. That’s all.”
Her reflection didn’t argue.
After a moment, she let out a shaky laugh.
“Great,” she murmured. “First heartbreak. Now mild psychosis.”
The word sounded ridiculous.
Which helped.
A little.
She changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
Tomorrow would be clearer.
Tomorrow this would feel smaller.
Explainable.
She closed her eyes.
And for a moment—
She saw silver.
Not bright.
Not glowing.
Just watching.
Her eyes snapped open.
Her room was empty.
Silent.
Dark.
Her pulse thudded slowly now.
Not panicked.
Just aware.
It wasn’t the image that unsettled her.
It was the certainty that came with it.
Whatever she saw in the forest—
It hadn’t felt imagined.
It had felt… intentional.
And that was worse.
Outside, far beyond town limits, a distant howl rolled through the trees.
Lena didn’t hear it.
But she shifted slightly in her sleep.
As if something, somewhere—
Had just acknowledged her.
- Writer
