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“Let go of it!” a guy grabs my arms and the book slips through my fingers, and the old woman disappears into the crowd that has gathered around us like it's a circus. And just like that, the old lady vanishes.
What's her deal?
She's insane!
She seems possessed.
Shh, hold the phone like that.
She might see you!
I'll get a million views on TikTok with this crazy woman.
The chatter of voices pulls me into a whirlwind of embarrassment, confusion, and desperation.
“You there!” I shout at the kid filming me. “If you post that, I'll smack you in the head with this phone so hard you'll forget your own name!" I threaten, not realizing that this might make things worse if the video, just like the first one from the day of the attack, gets posted. In my battle with inner demons, I squirm and headbutt the guy behind me, who's trying to calm me down.
“Aghhh!” he groans, clutching his bleeding lower lip. “Someone call the police!” he exclaims, and I realize that things are quickly spiraling out of control.
“Sorry,” I raise my hands to my chest and tuck my hair behind my ears. “I'm sorry, no need for the police.” I take a couple of steps back, accidentally bumping into dozens of terrified faces, making me realize that I'm heading down the wrong path.
I'm going to lose my mind if I don't end this!
I take a deep breath and hop into my car, blending into the crowded Monday parking lot, even more crowded than usual.
It's pouring rain outside, and I get soaked to the bone until I reach the entrance of my apartment building.
I finally arrive home, lock the door behind me, and let my bag fall off my shoulder. From the small hallway, I catch a glimpse of the kitchen table with the urn resembling the color of the sea. My dad's crumpled note lies near the edge of the table, and the white curtain flutters in the gusts of wind coming through the half-opened window, while silence fills my ears.
I slip off my sneakers, feeling the dampness of my socks on my toes. As I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the door, I pull down my hood. My overgrown blonde roots are glaringly obvious, a sign that I need to dye my hair soon. I run my fingers through my hair, shaking out the rainwater-soaked ends that stink of wet dog.
I remove my jeans, leaving me in just my underwear and socks. The warmth of my skin escapes through the oversized hoodie, leaving me chilled.
Inside the apartment, the air feels cold and empty.
“What do I do, Mom?” I murmur, my voice breaking as tears start to flow. “Why did you leave me all alone?” I scream, pounding my fists against a piece of wood, collapsing onto the cold floor.
I curl up into a ball, holding my knees tightly as I sob, losing track of time.
Two knocks on the door startle me. Opening my eyes, I realize my vision is blurred. Everything looks hazy, and my eyes sting.
How long have I been here?
I struggle to stand and use the cold, damp sleeve of the hoodie that I haven't bothered to clean in a week to wipe my tear-stained face. How did I end up like this?
“Who is it?” I crack open the door, peeking through the chain lock, and spot the hospital cop standing there, this time alone.
“Rebecca Godwill, I’m...”
“I know who you are, Caesar… Something. The cop from last time,” I give him a once-over, noting that the rain has lightly touched his shoulders.
“Skyfall, right. So, you're aware of why I'm here?” He looks at me with a furrowed brow.
“No,” I rub my eyes, still struggling to see clearly. “Actually, yes, I do recall what went down in the parking lot, but I don't feel the need to justify myself.”
Somebody must have finally made the call to the police, or perhaps the guy I decked in the mouth decided to file a complaint, or maybe that stupid kid posted that annoying TikTok video.
“Is this a bad time?” He glances at my red eyes, or maybe it's my attire, or rather, the lack thereof.
