Mask Beneath The Shadows

The Haunting Shadow

3

AVA EVANS

I FEEL LIKE I AM BEING FOLLOWED, AS IF SOMEONE IS MONITORING MY EVERY MOVE.

For days, an unsettling sensation has gripped me-an eerie awareness that someone is always watching. But when I glance around, I find only shadows and silence.

My phone buzzes, jolting me out of my thoughts. It's Mom calling. Why the f**k is she calling at midnight?

Mom and Dad separated when I was eighteen. Dad married Julie, our former neighbor, while Mom found solace with her best friend, Trevor. I've never gotten along with either of them; their constant bickering over the stupidest things left little room for their one and only child. It's been two years since Dad last visited, and he never calls.

Mom, on the other hand, occasionally checks in, but I've grown indifferent to their lives.

I answer the call, forcing a smile into my voice. "Hi, Mom."

"Ava, how are you?"

"I'm good. You?" I suppress the urge to roll my eyes; I truly don't care how she is.

"I'm great. So, how's school?" she asks, sticking to her well-rehearsed script.

I've learned to navigate this conversation by now-same questions, same forced pleasantries, same inevitable conclusion.

"It's going well. How's Trevor?" I reply, hoping to steer the conversation away from me.

She chuckles softly, her voice betraying a hint of warmth. "Oh, honey, he's alright. Actually, we're going out to the movies tonight."

An involuntary grimace crosses my face. "Oh, that's great!" I respond, injecting false enthusiasm into my tone. She never liked going to the movies when we lived together; now, she's excited for a date with him. Amazing.

"Mom, I think I have to go. I have an assignment to finish, and tomorrow is the deadline," I lie, eager to end this tiresome conversation.

"Alright, honey, best of luck with that," she replies, her voice dripping with insincerity.

"Thanks, Mom. Bye."

I hang up and let out a heavy sigh, groaning as the weight of the conversation settles on my shoulders.

Rising from the couch, I decide a walk might clear my head. I change into a pair of jeans and a plain T-shirt, grab my phone, and step outside.

As I walk, the same unnerving sensation creeps over me-the feeling of being watched. I push the thought aside, convincing myself it's just my imagination. Then my gaze catches on a shadow lurking in the distance.

He's tall, clad in a black leather jacket, his face obscured by a mask. His black hair, cascading slightly over his forehead, glinted softly in the dim light of the streetlamp flickering in the alley.

His eyes gleam like shards of ice in the dim light. I freeze, dread coiling in my stomach.

Sweat beads on my brow as I gulp, taking a shaky step back. There's no one else around, just him and me. I can feel my heart thumping against my ribcage, each beat a reminder of the danger looming closer.

His head tilts, and he continues to stare, an unsettling calmness in his posture.

Panic surges through me, and I turn to run, my legs propelling me forward as if my life depends on it. I don't dare look back.

Was I about to be murdered? My mind races. I can't shake the feeling that I truly have a stalker. Someone who has been lurking in the shadows, watching my every move.

Finally reaching my apartment, I slam the door shut and lock it tight, turning on every single light in the house. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I press my back against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

I creep toward the curtains, swiping them aside just enough to peek outside. Trembling, I scan the area for any sign of him.

But there's no one out there.

A wave of relief washes over me, but the unease lingers, a shadow in the back of my mind, reminding me that I'm not alone...