The Day After
381 Words
Alyssa
Alyssa woke to gray light pressing against the curtains, her body stiff, her mind heavy.
The ache in her muscles had settled deep, but it was the weight inside her chest that pinned her to the bed.
For a while, she simply laid there, staring at the ceiling, hollow and unmoving.
The night before blurred and sharpened by turns in her mind
The rain.
The footsteps.
The thing with burning eyes.
Alyssa dragged herself from the bed, her movements sluggish, mechanical.
The apartment felt colder today, smaller somehow.
In the kitchen, she opened the cupboard, reaching automatically for her coffee pods.
The shelf sat bare.
She stood there a moment, hand still outstretched, before slowly closing the door again.
She had no choice, she would have to venture outside.
The thought left her numb.
In the bathroom, she stepped into the shower, letting the scalding water pour over her skin.
The spray blurred the mirror and filled the air with steam, but it did little to wash away the grime clinging to her thoughts.
She stayed there, letting the heat bite into her, until her skin flushed pink and raw.
She had been so careful.
So deliberate.
And still, they had found her.
Scrubbing harder did nothing. Some stains didn’t wash away.
When she finally stepped out, the bathroom mirror reflected a stranger.
Wet blonde hair clinging to pale skin.
Eyes bruised with exhaustion, wide and wary.
She tied her hair into a rough bun, not bothering to make it neat.
A little makeup muted the worst of the damage. Not all of it.
She pulled on a pair of snug black shorts and an oversized white T-shirt, letting it hang loose, shapeless.
Old sneakers waited by the door, scuffed from nights she barely remembered.
She did not put on jewelry or perfume, she did not want to stand out, she wanted nothing that would make her memorable.
Nothing that would make her memorable. She just wanted to be another face in the crowd.
Safe and invisible.
The keys felt heavy in her hand as she picked them up.
At the door, she paused, pressing her forehead lightly against the wood.
No more attachments.
No more chances.
The past had taken enough.
Whatever waited outside, she would face it alone.
- Writer
