Feral
1181 Words
✽ Jason ✽
I watched her laugh at his words like he had earned it. Mandy sat in the back booth with her hands around a coffee mug, shoulders loose in a way I rarely saw. David leaned toward her with the confidence of someone who believed he belonged anywhere he chose. He smiled too much. He kept his eyes on her mouth when she spoke. I collected plates from the front tables and listened without looking. The diner was quiet, but my hearing was precise. Their voices carried in small pieces. He asked about her classes. He acted impressed. He fed her attention in measured doses, then watched her take it. I didn’t move faster. I didn’t show irritation. My face stayed neutral, the same as it always did. Inside, something hard pressed against my ribs. Anger was too warm a word. What I felt was cold and exact.
She was mine to watch. Mine to learn. Mine to keep safe from noise like him.
David’s gaze drifted once toward me. He noticed the uniform. He noticed the silence. Then he looked back at her and smiled again, as if I was part of the furniture. When Rosa went over to tell Mandy her break was over, I breathed out a soft sigh of relief. I didn’t like the way David looked at her. And I honestly didn’t like the way she looked at him. As soon as he walked out of the diner, I felt a lot more at ease. But when Mandy came over to me, I frowned. Her face was still lit up with excitement, and I hated that it wasn’t me who put that expression there.
“Jason,” she said quietly. “I am not walking home with you tonight,” I didn’t say a word as I stared at her. After a moment, she shifted on her feet. “David wants to grab a late bite,” she added. “Just something quick,” she was trying to be casual about it, but I could tell that she felt weird talking to me about it. I kept my gaze steady, and after a long moment, I gave her a small nod. It was simple: permission without approval. The truth was that I didn’t want her anywhere near David. “Ok,” she said, relieved by my lack of resistance. “I will see you tomorrow,” she turned away just as I snarled softly. I quickly schooled my features before I got back to work. Over the next few hours, Mandy wouldn’t shut up about David. While Rosa and Ben were happy for her, it was clear to me that Mandy was getting on Ben’s nerves. Not because he liked her, but because she just wouldn’t shut up about the guy.
“Jason!” Ben suddenly called out, and I glanced over my shoulder. “Would you take out the trash before closing?” he asked, and I nodded. He always asked. He never assumed. I liked that about Ben. Rosa, on the other hand, was annoying. When it was time to lock up, I watched as Mandy got into the car with David. I walked home alone. Hawthorne House waited two blocks away, brick and dim lobby light. I entered through the front like any resident. The door stuck as usual. I climbed to my floor and stopped at my own door. Apartment 2C. The unit directly beneath Mandy’s. Not that she knew that. Once I was inside, I didn’t turn on the lights. My place was quiet. I went straight to the closet and lifted a loose board behind my hanging coats. The spare key lay taped to the back, wrapped in plastic. Her key. Copied weeks ago from the ring she left in her apron pocket when she changed after a shift. She never noticed the extra weight when I returned it. I took it and left my apartment again. The stairs up to her floor creaked in the same places every time. I knew where to step to keep them silent. Outside her door, I listened. Nothing.
I unlocked her door and slipped inside like I belonged there.
I had been in her apartment more times than she would ever guess. The first time had been a test. The second time had been a habit. After that, it became routine: check the window latch, check the door, learn the layout, learn the patterns. Move something small once in a while and watch how she reacted the next day. Fear made people accept protection. Fear also made them look in the direction I wanted. Her apartment smelled like vanilla and dish soap. The living room was dim, lit by the streetlight through the thin curtains. The chair by her table sat at an angle from the last time I had touched it. Tonight, I put it back where it belonged. I didn’t want her distracted. I wanted her to be focused on the right threat.
David.
I crossed the room and went straight to her laptop on the small table. She left it there, trusting routine. I woke the screen. The password was simple. Her habits were simpler. RainDate opened with a long scroll of messages. Two weeks of words, small jokes, and small confessions. He had learned her schedule. He had asked when she was alone. He had pushed gently, always smiling.
I read everything from start to finish.
Mandy had been careful at first. David had been patient. He used compliments like tools. He mirrored her interests, repeated her phrases, and made himself feel familiar fast. Basketball. Rain. Green. Mystery movies. Tacos. And the detail about hating chocolate, offered like proof he was real. He asked for her number on day nine. She gave it to him on day ten. After that, the thread thinned, but it wasn’t empty. I stared at it until my vision narrowed. My hands didn’t shake. I didn’t panic. I cataloged facts. David knew her workplace. David knew her building name. David knew her face and her loneliness. He had sat in my booth and acted like he deserved it.
He didn’t.
I shut the laptop down and set it back exactly where it had been. I checked her window lock again, because she forgot sometimes. It was secure. I checked the front latch. It still stuck, just enough to make her doubt herself.
Good.
At the door, I listened once more. No footsteps. No voices. Mandy was still out with David, giving him time. Giving me space. I left her apartment and locked the door behind me. I took my time as I headed back to my apartment. And then the waiting game began as I positioned my chair in front of the window. I wanted to see him bring her home. I wanted to see if she would invite him inside for coffee. I wanted to see if Mandy was going to entertain David, or if she was, perhaps, too afraid. I silently hoped she would be too afraid.
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- Writer
