Page 121 of Mine To Hunt

Eventually, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. My fingers tremble slightly as I unlock it and scroll to Hazel’s name. I hesitate before pressing call, hoping she will understand. The phone rings a few times before she answers.

"Hey, Iris. Good morning," Hazel says. She sounds distracted, like she’s already juggling three things at once.

I clear my throat, trying to sound normal. "Morning. I’m sorry to call this early, Hazel. I was wondering if I could take today off. I’m not feeling great, and I think I just need a day to rest."

There’s a small pause. I hear typing in the background, maybe papers moving.

"Oh no." She says quietly, almost to herself. Then more clearly, "I wish you’d asked yesterday. Today’s a bit of a mess."

My heart sinks. "That bad?"

"Yeah!" She exhales. "A local politician got arrested overnight in a corruption sting. It blew up fast. The editor wants a full background package for tomorrow’s print edition. Financial history, old allegations, links to other officials. The whole thing. We’re short on time, and everyone’s already stretched."

I close my eyes, pressing my fingers against my forehead. "I figured it’d be something big."

"It is." Hazel says, softer now. "And honestly, you’re the best person to handle the background research. You’re thorough. I really need you in on this."

For a moment, I think about insisting. About telling her the truth. But the words stay stuck in my throat.

"Okay." I say finally. "I’ll come in. Just send me whatever you have so far, and I’ll start pulling everything together as soon as I get there."

"Thank you, Iris. I know it’s last minute." She replies, and I can hear the relief in her voice. "I’ll forward the initial reports to you right now. We’ll regroup once you’re here."

"Alright. I’ll be there soon."

We hang up, and I keep holding the phone long after the call ends. The flat is quiet again. Too quiet. The silence presses against my ears. The fear is still there, settled inside me, calm and patient, like it knows I will eventually have to step outside.

After a moment, I lower the phone and let out a slow breath. I have no excuse now. I have to leave. The thought makes my chest tighten. Beyond these walls, he could be anywhere. Watching. Waiting.

I force myself to sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. They feel heavy, as if my body is trying to resist what my mind already knows. Every movement takes effort.

In the bathroom, I turn on the shower and step under the warm water. Steam fills the space, wrapping around me, but it does nothing to ease the tension in my chest.

I close my eyes and let the water run over me, wishing it could wash away the fear, the confusion, the constant feeling of being watched. I scrub my arms harder than necessary, as if I can erase the anxiety from my skin. But the fear stays where it has been for days now, deep, unmoving, stubborn.

In the kitchen, I make toast and eggs. The routine feels automatic. I focus on simple steps so I do not have to think.Crack the egg. Flip the toast. Sit down. Eat. I barely taste anything.

My thoughts move in circles. What if he follows me today? What if he is closer than I think? The flat no longer feels fully safe. It feels temporary, fragile.

I dress in clothes that feel familiar, hoping comfort might translate into strength. It does not. I check my bag twice, phone, keys, ID, just to feel some sense of control. When I lock the door behind me, my hands are not steady. I pull on the handle again to make sure it is secure.

Outside, my mind shifts into alert mode immediately. My eyes move constantly. Every glance from a stranger feels loaded with meaning. An older man looks up as I pass, and my heart reacts before my logic can.

A woman nearby glances in my direction, and my thoughts twist it into something suspicious. I know I am overthinking, but I cannot stop. The fear has rewired the way I see everything.

On the bus, it is worse. I sit by the window and watch people board. Every small movement feels intentional. A shift in posture. A glance that lasts a second too long. Even when nothing happens, my body stays tense, ready.

I am exhausted before the day has properly started. Living like this, questioning everyone, doubting every harmless action, feels unbearable. But I do not know how to turn it off.

By the time I reach the office, my nerves are already stretched thin.

The moment I step inside, I feel the urgency in the newsroom. The noise hits me first, phones ringing, people talking overeach other, hurried footsteps. Normally, I would adjust quickly. Today, it feels overwhelming.

Hazel looks up from her desk and notices me. She lifts her hand to wave me over.

"Iris, I’m glad you made it." She says, lowering her voice slightly as I approach. "It’s been hectic since early morning."

"I could tell the moment I walked in." I reply, setting my bag down beside her desk. "What’s the situation?"