The Mall
1395 Words
POV - Cadence
My break was almost over. I cradled my coffee cup, deep in thoughts.
Everything felt hazy, the edges of my memory soft and dreamlike.
Had last night really happened?
I blinked at the ceiling, trying to gather the fragments — the drive, the quiet, the kiss. Regan’s eyes, dark and steady, filled my mind like the echo of something I shouldn’t remember so vividly.
It had felt real. Too real.
It was hard to believe that someone like him had actually kissed me. Then he'd miraculously shown up and saved me from that creep Graham.
A small, incredulous laugh slipped from my throat. “Get it together, Cadence."
The cold air from the mall doors bit at my skin, shaking the sleep away.
I pulled my curls back into a messy bun, threw on my uniform to go back yo work, the dull brown apron that smelled faintly of coffee and sugar, and grabbed my phone.
Six missed notifications. Mostly payment reminders and a weather alert about rain.
And one from the money transfer app.
I opened it quickly and sent fifty pounds to Grandma’s account. It wasn’t much, but it would help. She never asked, but I knew her pension barely covered the essentials.
The thought of her made something in my chest tighten, her small house in the countryside, her warm hands always smelling faintly of herbs and soap. The only family I had left.
Love you, Gran. Sent a little for groceries. Promise I’m eating enough too. Don’t worry.
I added a heart emoji before locking my phone.
Something still felt off. Maybe I was more shaken by Graham than I realised.
My brain kept flashing images of Regan, his voice echoed in my head, low and steady. The way his gaze had burned into mine.
My stomach fluttered, “Stop thinking about him,” I whispered to myself.
---
The café wasn’t busy yet, which was both a relief and a curse. The air smelled of espresso and fresh croissants, and the quiet whir of the milk steamer filled the space. I tied my apron and clocked back in, smiling at the barista already on shift.
The hours passed in a blur of steaming cups and quiet conversation. By mid afternoon, the mall was alive with the usual rhythm — chatter, footsteps, background music looping too cheerfully. I fell into the familiar rhythm of it: take orders, make drinks, smile, repeat.
But something about today was different.
It started small, a shiver at the base of my spine when a customer walked in. A tall man with a rough beard and pale eyes. Nothing unusual, really, but the moment he stepped forward, my heart stumbled.
Every instinct screamed danger.
The sound was faint, more feeling than noise, a whisper curling through my thoughts, strange and distant.
Not safe.
I blinked, shaking my head. It was just nerves. Maybe too much caffeine.
But as the day went on, it kept happening. A mother and child came in, perfectly ordinary, yet something made the hair on my arms rise. Then a delivery driver brushed past me, and again, that same low whisper rippled through my mind.
Watch.
Each time, it faded as quickly as it came, leaving me rattled and unsure.
By the afternoon, I was jumpy enough that Ella noticed. “You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just tired,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Didn’t sleep much.”
She shrugged, unconvinced but too busy to press.
I tried to ignore it, tried to lose myself in the hum of the café — but the more I ignored it, the stronger it became. Like something inside me was waking up.
And then, for one dizzying second, I could hear it clearly.
A voice.
Feminine, wild, ancient.
Cadence.
My name. Spoken inside my own head.
I nearly dropped the tray I was holding.
The sound vanished, replaced by the normal noise of the café. Ella didn’t even look up. No one seemed to have heard a thing.
I gripped the counter, breathing hard.
“I’m losing it,” I whispered under my breath.
The rest of the day passed in uneasy fragments. I smiled when I was supposed to, laughed when customers joked, but my thoughts never really left that whisper.
By the time my shift ended, the sun was already setting behind the glass dome of the mall. The orange light spilled through the atrium, painting the tiles in gold and shadow. I untied my apron, stuffed it into my bag, and waved goodbye to Ella.
“You okay to lock up?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ll take care of it. See you tomorrow.”
She left through the side exit, calling out something about coffee beans, and then I was alone.
The silence was heavier now.
The mall at night always had a strange stillness, the kind that made every sound feel amplified. The distant hum of the air conditioning, the faint echo of a closing door.
I started toward the back corridor that led to the staff exit. My reflection followed me in the shop windows, small, pale, hair slipping free from its bun. The strap of my bag dug into my shoulder, grounding me.
Almost home, I told myself. Bus, shower, sleep.
But halfway down the corridor, that whisper returned — sharper this time.
Run.
I froze. My breath caught.
“What?” I said out loud, turning in a slow circle.
No one was there. The hall was empty.
Then the lights flickered. Once. Twice.
And somewhere in the distance, something howled.
It wasn’t human.
The sound was low and guttural, rolling through the stillness like thunder. Every instinct in my body went rigid. My pulse jumped to my throat.
The whisper in my head came again, louder now. Hide.
I stumbled backward, my heart pounding. The howl came again, closer this time — echoing through the empty mall corridors.
The rational part of my brain screamed that it had to be some animal outside. A dog. Or a weird sound from the pipes. Anything but what it sounded like.
But the other part, the instinct that had been whispering all day, knew better.
Something was wrong.
Terribly, terribly wrong.
I turned and started running, shoes slapping against the tile. My bag bounced against my hip, the lights above me flickering wildly as if the building itself was panicking.
The whisper became a roar inside my skull, fierce and urgent.
Move, Cadence. Move!
I didn’t question it. I ran.
Past the darkened shops, past the glowing signs and shuttered food stalls. My breath came in sharp bursts, my lungs burning.
Another sound followed, the scrape of claws on tile.
I didn’t look back. Couldn’t.
I reached the stairwell and shoved the door open, the echo of it slamming behind me ringing through the concrete space. I stumbled down the first flight, gripping the railing.
My thoughts were a mess of fear and disbelief. None of this made sense. Voices in my head, howls in the dark, I had to be imagining it.
And yet every nerve screamed that I wasn’t.
At the bottom of the stairwell, I pressed my back against the wall and tried to steady my breathing.
The silence stretched.
Then- a growl. Low. Close.
My heart nearly stopped.
The metal door at the top of the stairs creaked. Slowly.
Something heavy was moving beyond it.
I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop the sound that wanted to escape. My pulse thundered in my ears.
The voice in my mind — the one I’d thought impossible — whispered again.
Don’t be afraid. I’m here.
And this time, it didn’t sound like fear.
It sounded like power.
The door above rattled once, twice — and then burst open with a crash.
The sound that followed was enough to tear the air apart.
Not human. Not animal. Something in between.
I pressed myself deeper into the shadows, trembling.
A shape appeared in the faint light — tall, wrong, moving too fluidly to be real. I caught only a glimpse , claws, pale eyes, a snarl, before the lights blew out completely.
Darkness swallowed everything.
And then, just before the world went silent again, I heard the voice inside me say one last thing.
Run to him.
- Writer
