ALEC & SUSAN

Haunted

ALEC

I’d slipped out the back to empty the trash, hoping to save the staff some trouble later that night. A sharp, desperate cry for help cut through the alley air. Heart pounding, I rounded the corner to find a girl being attacked. Adrenaline took over—I ripped the man away from her, giving him a few rough reminders of why he should never touch her before he fled into the setting sun.

The girl was curled into a small, shivering ball, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I extended a hand, whispering every assurance I could think of to let her know she was safe. The moment she took my hand, it felt like a live wire snapped between us. An electric shock vibrated through my chest, and as our eyes met, I felt myself falling into a trance.

She was hauntingly beautiful, the kind of vision that makes you forget how to breathe. Then, the magic died. She suddenly doubled over, emptying the contents of her stomach right onto the pavement. Red-faced and overcome with shame, she turned and disappeared before I could even offer a napkin.

I stood rooted to the pavement, my legs tracing her retreating figure until she vanished into the crowd without a single backward glance. A heavy, ringing silence settled over me. What just happened? I breathe the words into the cool evening air, my voice barely a ghost of a sound. I shook my head, pressing a trembling palm against the frantic thrumming in my chest before forcing myself to turn back towards the warm glow of the restaurant.

But the evening was already lost; I was haunted. Those ink-black eyes had sliced through my own, and in that one sharp, electric collision, the fortress I had spent years building didn’t just crack-it began to dissolve. Who was she, and how did a stranger undone me with nothing but a look?

After the restaurant closed, I hurried towards the train, but realized I absolutely had to talk to John about this. I caught a cab, but the city traffic felt agonizingly slow, my mind consumed by the memory of her face. Finally, I pulled up to my building, jumped out before it fully stopped, throwing cash at the driver. Inside, the elevator button felt unresponsive—a cruel joke when every second counted. Panic raising, I bolted for the stairs, taking them two, then three at a time up to the third floor.

Panting, I fumbled with my keys, bursting into the apartment and rushing to John’s room. He was already asleep, but I shook him awake; I knew he left too early for work to see him in the morning. I managed to blurt out what happened, but he just laughed.

“Well,” he muttered, “now you know how I felt when I first saw Katie.”

“Dude,” I replied, stunned, “what are you saying?”

“I’m saying your cold heart has finally developed a soft spot,” John mocked, his voice muffled before he threw the covers over his head. “You’re completely consumed by a girl whose voice you haven’t heard. Isn’t that what you told me? It’s love at first sight, dude. You’re done.”

I walked out of his room feeling absolutely defeated. For months, I had mocked him for falling for someone instantly, and now the same ridiculous, irrational thing was happening to me. This can’t be real, I thought, refusing to believe it. I told myself I would just go on with my life as if it never happened.

But I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I stared at the dark, heavy bags under my eyes in the mirror. Even with a hot shower and black coffee, I couldn’t shake her from my mind. Maybe, just maybe, I’d bump into her today.

It was pathetic. Me—Alec Beck—utterly hung up on a girl whose name I didn’t even know, haunted by those eyes from the alley. I could have anyone I wanted, yet here I was, barely sleeping, tormented by a memory I couldn’t escape. I decided to bury myself in work, numbing the pain by letting my days and weeks blend into a monotonous, grey blur. That was exactly what I did, burying my emotions beneath spreadsheets, orders and payments.

Days bled into weeks, then months, and still, I couldn’t find her. The crushing weight of her absence felt suffocating. While John was blissfully happy with his girl, I was merely ghosting through life, finding no joy in the familiar bustle of the pub. Even the flirtatious attention from other women, once a thrill, now left me cold. On the rare, desperate occasions I sought a release, I found myself entirely detached from the scene.

Yet, I still found myself retreating to my parents’ house every chance I got. During one visit, my mom noticed the lingering sadness in my eyes.

“What has you so down, honey?” she asked.

“I met a girl,” I confessed.

’Really! Tell me all about her.”

“That’s just it, Mom. I know nothing about her.”

I poured out the story of our brief, missed connection. After listening, she patted my hand and smiled gently.

“Don’t give up hope. If she’s the one for you, your paths will cross again.”

“You really think so, Mom?” I asked, needing to believe it.

“I do, son. Mother knows best.”

We both chuckled, a small, shared moment that finally made the grey lift.

Three months.

Ninety days, give or take.

Long enough for most memories to dull around the edges. Long enough for faces to blur together until they became nothing more than fleeting moments tucked away in the back of the mind.

Yet hers hadn’t faded.

If anything, she’d only become clearer.

I leaned against the stainless-steel prep counter, absently polishing a wine glass that had been spotless five minutes ago.

I stood there for a moment longer than I should’ve, half-aware of the world continuing around me. People moved past. Life went on. Conversations rose and fell in easy rhythm, untouched by whatever storm had been building inside my chest for months.

And I just… stood still in the middle of it.

Like I’d misplaced myself somewhere along the way.

I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling through my nose. Tired didn’t even begin to cover it. It wasn’t just the lack of sleep anymore—it was something deeper, quieter. A slow unraveling I hadn’t noticed happening until now.

I should just go home.

Where things made sense. Where the world didn’t tilt sideways every time my mind wandered back to an alley that should’ve meant nothing and somehow meant everything.

It had been too long. Weeks stretching into months. The kind of distance that turned hope into something foolish if you held onto it too tightly.

No name. No way to find her. No reason she’d ever be looking for me.

Just a moment. Just a memory. Just my mind refusing to let go.

I let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it.

Get it together.

That was what I needed. Not fantasies. Not chasing ghosts through crowded streets or replaying broken seconds in my head like they meant something more than what they were.

Reality didn’t bend for things like that.

My feet started moving before I fully decided they should.

Step by step.

“I’ll just forget it,” I muttered under my breath, like saying it out loud might make it stick. “I have to.”

But even as I said it, something inside me resisted—quiet, stubborn, unwilling to let her become just another thing I’d failed to hold onto.

Still, I kept walking.

Because that was what you did when there was nothing left to find.