Chapter 3


In all the years since she'd been born, Courtney had never felt so tired.

She was pretty certain she was conscious, though she sure as hell didn't feel like it. Her brain couldn't conjure up the simplest of thoughts, and her body remained unmoving despite her efforts. Even opening her eyes took several seconds, and once accomplished, she immediately shut them again as bright light streaked through a gap in the curtains, falling directly across her face. Groaning, Courtney rolled over to face the wall.

She had no idea what time it was, but she needed to get up. If her (albeit fuzzy) memory served correct, it was Saturday, and though she didn't have school she vaguely recalled her mother arranging some volunteering stint at the local food bank at noon. It wasn't that Courtney needed the hours—she'd completed her community service requisite over summer break—but Mrs. Mann probably just wanted to get the girl out of the way for a while.

Not that that was anything new.

Calling upon the little energy she had, Courtney used the linen sheets to pull herself into a sitting position atop her bed, head spinning as she did so. She closed her eyes against the passing vertigo. Her stomach grumbled angrily; there was no way she'd be skipping breakfast this morning. Blinking away the last remnants of sleep, she yawned and shook her head, then stood to let her bare feet carry her over to the window. She peeled back heavy grey curtains to observe the late morning sky. Small tufts of cloud floated in the endless expanse of blue, hiding the sun and casting shadows down on the freshly-trimmed lawns. Nothing moved, not cars zooming down the street nor neighbors rushing from their homes in attempt to get to work on time. It was completely still, and the tranquility of the scene made Courtney feel content despite her hunger. A small smile found its way onto her drawn face.

The peacefulness lasted about a minute.

Courtney gasped, hands flying up to muffle the sound as she stumbled back several steps. The previous day's events came rushing back at once, rapid and unrelenting. School. Lindsay. Noah. Rain. Intruder. A note on the counter. It all seemed like a bad dream, but one glance at her bedside table and the white slip of paper that laid upon it told her otherwise. With shaky hands she picked it up, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to read it again. It crumpled in her fist.

Sighing shakily, she put her head in her hands. She couldn't tell her parents. They'd either blame her or brush it off as nothing; nothing was stolen, and her mother had always said she was too paranoid. Or, on the rare chance that her parents did take her seriously, they'd probably try to get the police involved. And that was about the last thing Courtney wanted—for people to think she couldn't look after herself; to be seen as the weak, vulnerable girl she definitely wasn't.

No, she was just going to keep quiet, pretend it had never happened. She was strong. Courtney could deal with the creep herself, if need be, and even then that was assuming the whole thing wasn't partly her imagination. Who was to say it wasn't just a joke? Sure, if it was a joke, it was pretty sick and twisted, but that didn't eliminate the possibility. Lifting her head up higher, she attempted to focus on this somewhat less distressing explanation. After all, why would someone want to stalk her anyways? She forced a breathless laugh. Sure, she wasn't ugly, but there were plenty of girls—Lindsay, for example—who were far prettier (and denser) than she was. People like that were much more suitable targets. Only a crazy person would try to come after her.

Though she meant it as a reassurance, the thought brought Courtney little comfort. She shivered as she glanced at the window. As she drew the curtains shut once more, her phone buzzed against the table.

She really needed to get ready.


In Courtney's opinion, there was no better way to keep her mind off things than staying busy. Like when she felt nervous for a presentation or received a bad grade (never lower than a B-) on a test; or after she lost an argument and was trying to cope without killing anything and everything that wandered into her path; or when she was trying to ignore the painful fact her parents cared more about their jobs than about their only child (which, if Courtney was being completely truthful, she thought about quite often). It was something of a bad habit, avoiding her emotions, but over the years she'd become very good at throwing herself into her work when times were tough.

It was no surprise that she was doing the same thing now.

"Hey, we need three cases corn and two green beans over at Station 3!"

"On it!"

Swiftly placing down the several boxes cradled in her arms, Courtney paused to scoop up five others from a stack in the corner of the room. They were big, and she struggled for a moment to successfully balance them atop one another to carry off. She managed it though, and, quickly but carefully, she made her way over to the indicated station. A dull thud sounded as each case hit the wooden table top. She turned to the employee, grinning eagerly. "Anything else?"

The woman raised an incredulous brow. The girl's enthusiasm threw her off. In her time working as volunteer coordinator, most of the teens that she had the pleasure of working with were whiny, apathetic little brats who liked to get away with doing the least possible amount of work while still "completing" the required hours. Quite frankly, they made her life hell. More of a hindrance than a help, the woman usually considered herself lucky if they did even half of the tasks they were supposed to. Some didn't do anything at all.

But this girl—she was different. She'd been working nonstop for over two hours already, and her energy hadn't seemed to dwindle in the slightest. It was rather unnerving, but at the same time the woman considered it a much-appreciated breath of fresh air in her normally monotonous work routine.

A hesitant smile formed on her lips. Glancing at the expectant teen, and then around the room, she fought to think of some task to keep her busy. She rubbed her chin with a bony finger, humming to herself. "Hmm… I guess if you want you can," her eyes settled on a door embedded in the rear wall, "take stock. You know, in the storage room. I mean, it's kind of time-consuming and more than a little tedious, but-"

"I'll do it!" Courtney exclaimed, loudly and with far more vigor than she had intended. Her cheeks flushed. Toning her zeal down a notch and clasping her hands behind her back, she reiterated, "I mean, yes, that sounds fine. I can handle that." The lady continued to stare bewilderedly at her for another minute before shrugging. Better her than me. She scribbled something down on her clipboard, lifting a finger in the direction of the room.

"Okay, well, the door's right over—" Hearing footsteps, the woman looked up to see her volunteer practically sprinting away. "There." She shook her head. She would never understand teenagers.

Meanwhile, Courtney was just stepping over the threshold of the storage closet. She paused to take in her surroundings. There were boxes and cans everywhere—lined up on shelves, heaped against the wall, thrown on the floor. She had to watch her step to make sure she didn't tread on anything. Merely shoving the door open to get inside was a challenge, and as it shut multiple canisters toppled down and nearly bonked her on the head. In one word, the stock room was a disaster. Her corners of her lips started to turn down before she remembered: this was exactly what she wanted. Something to keep her occupied, take her mind off things. She smiled at the thought.

Courtney was in her element.

She grabbed a clipboard off the wall and set straight to work, sorting everything into piles, examining containers and discarding the damaged ones. Cans were shifted to the shelves in groups, while cases took their place in an empty corner of the room. Goods were counted, numbers recorded, until eventually her frantic flitting about the room slowed, and she realized there was nothing more to do. The frown returned. The clock on the wall—now visible, thanks to her efforts—read 4:30. It had been an hour and a half.

Courtney's frown deepened into a grimace. Her mother was expecting her home in under half an hour; apparently, there was someone she wanted to her daughter to meet. This had come as a great surprise. Normally the older woman couldn't care less where she went or who she associated herself with, as long as it didn't reflect negatively on their familial reputation. Courtney could only assume the visitor was some important client on whom she was supposed to make a good impression—better her mother's business and all that. She let a long sigh escape. There was no doubt they would be a complete prick.

Exiting the now-pristine back room, Courtney went to inform the overseer of her departure. The woman appeared surprised to see her still there, but nevertheless thanked her and accepted the offered paper and clipboard before retreating to her office, leaving the girl to stand awkwardly under the glare of the fluorescent lights. She didn't move for a few seconds, hoping to delay her return home as much as possible, until finally, reluctantly, she shuffled her feet towards the entrance. The sun was still high in the sky, and without much thought the girl brought up a hand to shield herself.

Once the disorienting black spots cleared from her vision, she made her way to her car. The lights flickered as it was unlocked. Courtney reached for the door handle, her hand inches away, when she was startled by the sound of sudden footsteps. Instinctively she jerked her head around, supposing her supervisor had come to speak with her. However, her gaze met with nothing but the empty parking lot. Her brow furrowed as a shiver ran down her spine for reasons she knew not.

Courtney quickly shook it off. She must have been imagining things. Opening the door and sliding into the leather seat, she buckled up and stuck the key into the ignition. The vehicle rumbled to life, breaking the silence, and she let out a sigh of relief she hadn't known she was holding. With one hand she adjusted the mirrors, the other positioned rigidly on the steering wheel, and she rested her foot on the pedal. She was so intent on getting out of there that she almost didn't notice something flash in one of the side mirrors. Her foot hit the brake so hard her skull nearly met the windshield.

There was a man standing behind her.

Well, he wasn't so much a man as a boy, perhaps a year or two older than herself. His clothes, dark as his hair, stood out against his pale skin and she noticed something glinting in the sunlight. He was simply standing, motionless, staring directly into her eyes. Even from so far away she could feel the intensity of his gaze, so pure and raw that she wanted to look away. She couldn't. Frozen in the moment, she wasn't aware of how much time passed, nor how uneven her breaths had become.

Finally, after the passage of a few seconds or an hour, the man took a slow step forward. The trance was broken. Courtney exhaled sharply as she averted her eyes, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. She noticed him advancing ever so subtly around the bend of the car, approaching her door. It was now or never. Forcing the vehicle into drive, she pressed down hard on the accelerator and lurched forward onto the main road, fortunately avoiding the stream of passing cars. She glanced back briefly as she sped away, and was perturbed to find the lot deserted once more.

Courtney arrived home in record time. As she entered the house, her mother greeted her with all the overt and insincere affection that told her their guest was already present. She was led into the living room, her shaking hand grasped so tight she was afraid it would turn blue, and did her best to muster up some essence of composure. For her mother's sake.


A/N: (Edit) 12/18/20

3 of 7 now edited. We're getting there!

-Scraps