Chapter 13 of What's Up, Danger?: Weird Autumn
She was plummeting downwards, wind screaming in her ears. Whatever force that had been holding her in the sky suddenly snapped, vanishing. She flailed desperately, trying to grab onto anything but her fingers only grasped at air. The water in Gotham Harbor beneath was rapidly approaching when she remembered reading that hitting water from a high height felt like slamming into a concrete wall. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it to all be over.
Instead of her body slamming into a wall of water and waves, she startled awake on her bed—panting, sweating, and shaking. She dragged her hands up her face and pushed damp strands of hair off of her forehead, slicking her hair back.
Bleary, she rubbed her eyes with her fists and rolled over towards the window. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the mixture of darkness and the glow of the streetlights that hauntingly illuminated the space around her.
Another falling dream, Sabine thought grimly.
She loudly exhaled out of her nose, annoyed by the frequent sleep disruptions. When was the last time she had slept through the night without some sort of disturbance? How many falling dreams did that make this week so far? Three? Four? And every time she woke up, her body felt raw and ragged.
Sabine stared at the peeling paint on the wall next to the window frame and traced imaginary images in the bumpy texture before she heaved another long sigh.
Her skin felt damp and clammy, an occurrence she was growing accustomed to from the bad dreams. Or maybe she needed to talk to her doctor about changing her prescriptions. Antidepressants could give you night sweats, right? It was beyond uncomfortable and gross to be getting this moist at night.
Half-awake, she sat up, stumbled out of bed, and over to the window. The light outside was annoying and too bright. She just wanted to go back to sleep. Was it early? Was it late? She sure as hell didn't know.
Unsure if it was because she had woken up in the middle of a strange dream or if it was some half-asleep induced hallucination, her heavy and sleep-lidded eyes spotted a flash of movement from the rooftop across from her studio window; two small streaks of red quickly dove behind a rectangular bulkhead.
She squinted at the rooftop and examined the structure, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Finally, Sabine yawned and stretched her arms overhead, pulling the sinew in her back and upper arms upwards, alleviating some of the tension in her body. She tugged the cord next to the window frame. The blinds dropped down, blocking out the glow of the street lights and brightly lit signs.
She blew out the candle on the nightstand, the aroma of spiced pumpkin vanished into a thin hint of smoke as the blackened wick fizzled and crumbled.
She palmed the bed sheets and frowned, they were soaked through with her sweat. It was late and she didn't feel up to the task of walking down and back up five flights of stairs between the basement laundry room and her apartment. And the damn machines had a bad habit of eating her quarters too.
Laundry is a problem for future Sabine to deal with, she tiredly decided as she grabbed a thick blanket from off the shelf in her closet, wrapped it around her body, and curled up on the couch.
"Dudegetoffme—" Roy tried to yell but Jason's hand over his mouth muffled his voice as he struggled to push his friend off of him. His tongue tasted the leather of the glove, coppery and earthy on his taste buds, as he tried to speak.
Jason had tackled him to the ground when they saw Sabine stand at her window, her eyes almost making out the figures of the two vigilantes. He didn't want her to think he was spying on her. They were just passing by, it was pure coincidence. He certainly hadn't expected to see her hovering or whatever the hell that was.
Roy bit the palm of Jason's gloved hand—hard—causing Jason to pull his arm back as he felt the pressure of Roy's teeth and the sharpness of his incisors through the material.
Roy shoved Jason off of himself and grunted, "What the hell was for?"
Jason pushed himself up on his elbows and didn't look at Roy, his thoughts turned into brain stew.
Roy continued to chide Jason, "Since when are you shy about being seen?" There was a teasing undertone to the bite in his voice.
"I'm not," Jason huffed defensively. I just didn't want to be seen by her. Again.
"Suuure," Roy trilled before he threw his hands up in the air, "so what's Ms. Floaty's deal? You know her, right?"
Jason chewed on the inside of his cheek as he shoved his head back inside his red helmet. "Yeah, I do."
"And?"
"And what?" Jason shot back.
"What's her deal?-and more importantly,"—he leaned over, waggled his eyebrows, and cheerily ground his knuckles into Jason's shoulder—, "how do you know her?"
Jason's brows knitted together under his helmet. It wasn't like he was trying to keep some deep dark secret from Roy, there were just some things he preferred to keep private.
So why was he hesitating to talk about her? He knew Roy wouldn't lecture him on and on about boundaries and rules.
Would Roy blab about this? Totally, he didn't know when to keep his mouth shut.
But this was Roy, his best friend, he deserved to know something was up.
Jason sighed and his shoulders sagged. "She's…a friend." And a suspect now, he thought gravely. He needed to go over her file again, comb through the details, and see if he missed anything.
It wouldn't be unusual if she had inherited something from her mother. He had suspected that Olivia might have possessed some magical ability or interest in the arcane arts from the book collection Sabine had shown him; it was the only theory that seemed to be adding up and abilities like that could be passed down along bloodlines. However, he'd kept those thoughts locked away, even in his own mind, until now.
Roy balked, incredulous. "You made a friend?" Then he clapped Jason on the back with a loud smack as a smile broke out across his face. "That's great!"
Jason cocked his head in disbelief. "Really? That's what you're taking away from this?"
"So when do I get to meet her?" Roy asked eagerly as he stood up and offered Jason his hand.
Jason thought about his two worlds cataclysmically colliding—his civilian life and his vigilante identity. He wasn't ready for that. It would be best to keep his lives, and his friends, separate.
He swatted away Roy's hand as he got onto his feet. "Hopefully, never."
Jason pressed his body flat against the bulkhead and peered around the corner as Roy complained ("Oh, come oooon, Jaybird.") next to him. The blinds in her window were drawn down and shuttered, hiding her room from view.
He sank down onto his haunches and strung his weight forward over his knees, trying desperately to curb his worst thoughts and suspicions. What the hell was he going to do now?
10:55 AM, Tuesday
How the hell do you go about asking someone if they know they could float?—was the question that plagued Jason's mind for the better part of several days.
And when Sabine was right in front of him, wearing her cozy grey peacoat and a purple ombré scarf wrapped around her neck and shoulders, he found himself only able to grunt a slurred greeting.
"G'mornin'."
She fiddled with her scarf and adjusted the straps of her backpack. He tried to keep a straight face and bit down on his lip, she looked like such a dork.
Her eyes brightened when she looked up at him and she scuffed the sidewalk with her right heel. "'Morning."
Jason rubbed the back of his neck, feeling unsure. He didn't like the uncertainty of not knowing how to proceed eating away at him in the back of his mind. He especially didn't like to consider the fact that Sabine might be more connected to Storrison's death than she was aware of.
Or if she's even telling the truth, he thought darkly but it was a possibility he had to consider.
Olivia Aberdeen's obsession with the occult and murky past. Her death. Those strange books. Storrison's sudden demise. Sabine's…ability or abilities, for the lack of a better term. He could just picture the red string on the corkboard linking all of these circumstances together, but he needed to know more.
He could always go about interrogating her the old fashion way; tying her to a chair and threatening to peel off her fingernails if she didn't confess. A few years ago, he—Red Hood— wouldn't have thought twice about holding a knife to her throat to get what he wanted if he thought it would help him. And now here he was, going to therapy, abiding by Bruce's 'No Killing' rule, tolerating his 'work associates', saving cats from the mean streets of Gotham…he had changed.
Jason wanted to believe that it was a coincidence. Man, that would make things so much easier for him. But nooo, things couldn't be easy. They had to be complicated and messy. He just had to incidentally befriend the one person in Gotham who was linked to this case.
"—Jason?"
Jason barely registered Sabine's voice over the mellow tempo of acoustic music that played over the speakers and the white noise chatter of other patrons in the coffee shop.
"—do you want anything, Jason?" Sabine waved next to him to get his attention.
Jason's eyes flitted around his surroundings. Had he gotten so lost in his ruminations that he hadn't realized that they had walked into a coffee shop?
He pushed a hand through his hair, brushing it off of his forehead before letting the dark strands flop back down. He turned his attention to the cashier, a young woman with bright pink hair pulled back into a bun with a visor over it.
He leaned a palm on the counter and put some of his weight on it. "Large coffee."
Sabine's smile faltered briefly. "Cafe mocha for me, please."
The cashier rang up the order and Sabine didn't say anything as she inserted her card into the terminal to pay.
The atmosphere between them felt off ever since they greeted each other outside of their therapists' offices. He was more broody than usual, withdrawn and quiet. Sabine respected that Jason was a private person, although she still thought it was very odd that he wouldn't even tell her his last name, but the wall he put up seemed insurmountable. She didn't know if he was trying to keep things in or keep other things, like people, out. What exactly was on the other side that he didn't want her to see?
Jason waited by the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest.
Several minutes later, a barista called Sabine's name and she left his side for a moment to grab their drink order.
"Are you doing okay?" she asked as she handed him his coffee.
Jason accepted the coffee and shrugged. "Late night."
Sabine nodded, understanding. "Couldn't sleep again?"
"Something like that."
There's that wall again.
They padded along the street in silence until Jason spoke up.
"So," Jason drew out the o-sound as he tried to smile, "how are things?" Not his smoothest lead-in, he admitted to himself.
She avoided looking at him and fidgeted, "Things have been…"—memories of the broken mug magically becoming whole again, CEO sitting on her chest in the dark, the bucket-headed vigilante who wouldn't leave her alone, and the repetitive falling dreams flashed in her mind—"…things have been okay. A little stressful."
"Yeah?"
Sabine hastily tried to think of what to say. "Mostly just not sleeping. Lots of studying, exams, and papers."
"So, take a break?"
Sabine looked affronted by the very idea. "And fall behind?"
Jason's forehead creased as he suggested, "You know, it's okay to relax sometimes, right? Do something fun. Unwind. Life can't be all school and work. You're gonna drive yourself crazy like that." The absolute irony that this was coming from him wasn't lost on him one bit. What had Roy called him that one time? Oh yeah, Mr. Up-All-Night-Obsessively-Plotting-The-Demise-Of-Gotham's-Various-Criminals.
She pouted, knowing he had a point. Hell, even her therapist told her to take a break and slow down once in a while; to try something like knitting, taking care of plants, or even going out with her classmates when they invited her. But she couldn't see herself trying to make a scarf out of yarn or covering her fire escape in potted plants.
Sabine loudly exhaled and shoved her free hand into her coat pocket. "I don't think I even know how to unwind anymore."
"—that's an understatement," he interjected with a short chuckle.
She sent him a sharp look. "—it's just that…unwinding is just not something I've ever been good at."
"Yeah," Jason drawled and stifled a yawn, "can't imagine you even know how to relax. You probably get your kicks reading case studies all day, huh?"
Sabine wrinkled her nose. "I'm kind of boring, aren't I?"
Boring wasn't the word he would use to describe her. However, that didn't stop Jason from heaving his shoulders up and down nonchalantly, "Self-awareness is good."
She puckered her mouth at his words. "Rude," but her tone was just as tongue-in-cheek as his. "How do you unwind?"
This conversation had done a 180 and turned in a direction he didn't expect. This was supposed to be about her and the weird shit he witnessed the other night.
"Sometimes I do stuff and other times I do things," he answered vaguely on purpose.
She rolled her eyes because of course, Jason enjoyed being difficult. "Do you do those things by yourself or with other people?"
Jason made a dismissive noise and his grin broadened impishly. "Maybe."
"That's not an answer at all," she sniped and when he didn't say anything else she added, "well, I hang out with you." She purposefully placed inflection at the end of her sentence before she took a sip of her cafe mocha. "Even if it is mostly just getting coffee."
Jason's mind hitched and he almost stopped mid-step, the banter that he had weaponized to hide behind thrown off. He recovered, not as smoothly as he wanted, from the electrical short circuit in his brain and continued trodding forward as Sabine trailed a half-step behind him.
For some reason, his ears felt warm. He folded down the collar of his jacket to alleviate the heat that radiated through his face. A cool breeze iced over his neck, calming down his nerves. This conversation had dangerously veered off of its intended course.
A lump thickened in his throat, and his voice came out hoarser than he intended when he asked, "You wanna do something besides getting coffee?"
He speculated what kind of faces she would make or what she would say if they played a board game together, or if they browsed the library. He didn't dislike the idea.
They stopped at a red crosslight. Jason chugged the rest of his drink before tossing the cup into a green trash can on the corner that was on the brink of overflowing.
Sabine heard the awkwardness in his voice even though he tried to mask it with a casual tone. Guilt tugged at her, she hadn't meant to put him on the spot. What they were doing was fine, getting coffee was fine.
Pushing through the strange shift in the atmosphere between them, she joked, "What could be better than getting hot bitter bean juice that tastes like chocolate and gives you the energy of the gods?" With you, though she didn't add the final part. She wondered why that even popped into her head.
Jason eyed her and then queried in a tone that was almost too blunt, "Don't you have other…friends?" He hoped the question wasn't as awful as it sounded.
Sabine was quiet for a second, her expression shifting between neutral and reflective.
The light signal changed, signaling for pedestrians to cross the stopped traffic.
"Kind of? I used to," she pursed her lips as she tried to keep up with Jason's longer strides in the crosswalk, thinking. "It was a lot simpler in undergrad, I guess. Everyone either lived in the dorms or was rooming together off-campus, so it was so easy to see people and hang out. I think a lot of us just hung out for the sake of hanging out though? Because it was college? And then graduation happened and people moved away, either back home or they just moved on.".
Her college experience had been a haze of late nights laughing with friends and drinking in their crappy student apartments or cramped dorm rooms between bouts of studying together in the campus library or student union building. There was always someone around to hang out with back then. And then in the months following graduation, after the end of four years of living that struggling college student life, almost everyone left the city. Gradually, at first, and then one day months later she realized almost everyone from her friend group was gone.
She swallowed, her grip tightened around the paper cup in her right hand. "But I did have a, uh, roommate for a while. We met in a Gen Ed class in our third year. Things didn't work out."
Unconsciously, Jason scrunched his face. He couldn't imagine two people living comfortably together in that studio apartment until it dawned on him that the relationship she described was probably more than just platonic.
She paused, casting her eyes down to look at the horizontal lines in the sidewalk. "Sorry for the word vomit."
He shrugged. "S'okay." Giving in to the nosy feeling, he pressed, "What happened with the roommate?"
"We weren't really on the same page. It was too much, too fast, I think," she said, rotating her wrist to swirl the liquid contents in the cup. "She wanted us to go to California together—specifically UC Berkeley—and then we both got into the programs we applied for over there and…I kind of got cold feet? I realized I didn't want to move across the country. I like Jersey, I like Gotham."
It sounded masochistic admitting that out loud.
She huffed because the notion was absurd—liking Gotham? She was going nuts in this city. But it was also the city where she transitioned from a wayward teenager to a wayward young adult. There was something hard to let go about that for her. She wanted to cling to the remnants of an easier and less complicated time in her life, even if that was just out of nostalgia.
Jason hummed in agreement. He liked Gotham too, from all of its imperfections and grime to its seedy underbelly that he intimately knew. It was the city where he was born, it's where he lived on the streets and survived; where he had lost part of his family and gained a new one
"Sounds messy," Jason muttered, already mulling over her words. She sounded lonely and lost. Like him.
Sabine inwardly grimaced. "Oh, it was."
Timidly, Sabine peaked up at Jason from the corner of her eye and tried to not admire the outline of his profile and his disheveled dark hair. She couldn't stop the intrusive thoughts in her head that chimed in that there were some things about Gotham that weren't awful.
"I think you have to be a little unhinged to like Gotham," Jason finally said with his brows raised and his lips twitching upwards.
Sabine clicked her tongue and drooped her head to one side, not agreeing or disagreeing with the notion. She'd certainly been experiencing enough weirdness lately that she questioned her sanity more than usual. But unhinged? If anything, she was partially hinged with some of the screws holding onto the jamb still in place needing tightening.
Her thoughts drifted and she wasn't paying attention as she stepped off the curb, or else she might've seen the car speeding down the street, weaving through traffic.
Jason was used to staying calm in stressful situations, it was second nature. How many times had he stared down the barrel of a gun or the edge of a knife without so much as flinching?—too many times. But when he saw that black car barreling down the street, ignoring the traffic signals, the hair on the back of his neck and arms bristled as he realized Sabine was stepping right into its dangerous trajectory.
In his panic, his fingers latched around her wrist. He jerked her back as a black sedan ran through the red light, almost colliding with a delivery truck before it swerved out of the way. A cacophony of honking and angry shouting followed in its wake as the truck swung wide as the driver slammed on the breaks, blocking traffic.
Sabine smelled the acrid exhaust as she stumbled over her feet from the sudden motion and her back fell against Jason's solid body with a thud. He'd pulled her in towards him, her right cheek squished against his chest. Her ear against him, she heard the frantic thrum of his heartbeat.
Jason turned his head, only in time to see the first four digits on the license plate before it swerved in front of a delivery truck. 8-C-J-X…he seared those letters and numerals into his memory.
Her wrist that he held onto prickled from his touch. A luminous shade of green flooded her vision and suddenly she was viewing the world through a watery lens as if she was completely submerged under water or in some thick potion-y witch's brew. Her eyes stung as she fought to keep them open. Instead of seeing the busy street, cavernous rocks jutted at her from all sides.
She blinked until the image rippled outwards in tiny circles, like pebbles cast into the water. The street, the cars, the people, and Jason came back into focus.
Jason gently shook her shoulder when he looked down and saw her vacated trance. "Hey, you good?"
His voice brought her back to the present. Her eyes slowly refocused.
"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, still too disoriented from the odd hallucination to realize how close she had been to mortal peril, "I-I'm fine."
Sabine slipped her wrist out of his grasp and stepped back, creating distance between them. The places where Jason's fingers touched her skin burned unpleasantly like she'd touched hot metal. Glancing down, she expected to see marks seared into her flesh, but she was unmarred by the contact. The tingling subsided into a buzz before disappearing. Confused, she rubbed at her skin with her sleeve until it felt raw.
The way she stepped away from him and wiped at her wrist like he was something contagious made his heart lurch against his chest, unsure why her actions caused distress to brew inside of him. He immediately worried that he'd grab her too hard.
Lamely, Jason dropped his hand to his side and scanned over her, double-checking to see if she was unscathed…and maybe a little appreciatively of the way her jeans hugged her legs. She appeared a little shaken, but otherwise fine. He tore his eyes away from her before his thoughts went too astray.
When his pulse settled, he nudged her boot with his own and kept the acid that bubbled up in his esophagus down. "Still like Gotham?"
Sabine rattled out a soft raspberry between her lips. "I could get run over in any city, Gotham's not that special," she replied flatly as if flirting with the idea of being flattened on the street like a pancake was nothing to fuss over.
Jason scoffed, bemused. "Like I said, unhinged."
The morning fog that covered the city had burned off by late afternoon when Sabine returned to her apartment after class.
She locked the door behind her and turned the deadbolt latch into place. Mentally, she ran through all the chapters she would need to review that night for an upcoming term paper.
Sabine slid her backpack straps down her shoulders and placed it by the closed door. She turned and started unbuttoning her coat, her fingers plucked blindly at the first round button.
Her shin hit something hard. She almost tripped and ate the hardwood floor. She staggered to regain her footing and placed a hand on the wall to steady herself.
"What the heck—"
She looked down, and her spine stiffened. In front of her was the cardboard box she had shoved inside of her coat closet—the one full of her mother's old books. The folded flaps were peeled open, revealing the bound volumes inside.
Her eyes widened slowly, taking in the odd sight before her, and then they darted around the studio. The windows were shut, and everything else looked perfectly in place where she had left it before she had left for therapy that morning, from the mug on the countertop to the small stack of textbooks on her coffee table. The lock on her door hadn't been forced open or broken. There was no sign that anything had moved, except CEO, who was napping in the horizontal beams of sunlight that penetrated the blinds with his tail flicking.
"Hello?" she breathed faintly into the small space. Then repeated louder, "Hello?"
She listened intently as if expecting someone or something to jump out of a cabinet or crawl out from under the couch. The only response she got was the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of CEO's tail softly whacking the hardwood floor.
Well, someone had taken the box out of the closet.
Someone else, not her.
She absolutely loathed the thought, it was invasive and terrifying.
Cautiously, she crouched and examined the contents of the box. All of the books were there, packed upright to prevent warping of the pages or hardcovers, except the one she lent to Red Hood. But what was the box doing out in the open?
She folded the cardboard flaps into each other, closing them. She shoved the heavy box back into the closet and shut the door with both hands.
Sabine shook her head, rattling around the troublesome thoughts in her mind, as she sank to the floor with her back pressed against the closet door.
Slumped over, Sabine realized that her hands were trembling. Maybe she had too much caffeine, or maybe it was the mere idea that someone or something had intruded into her home scared her shitless. She stared at her vibrating fingers, unable to will them still.
"It's okay, it's okay," she consoled herself, but her voice wavered with doubt, "you took the box out and forgot. That's all. You just forgot."
She wished she could believe the lie she was telling herself.
11:30 PM
8…C…J…X…
Jason ran the four plate numbers he recalled through the hacked license plate recognition database. The remnants of a paper wrapper smeared with ketchup and mustard and an almost-empty fountain drink cup from the cheap burger takeout place a few blocks away cluttered his usually tidy computer desk.
The harsh glow of the screen stung his eyes. He knew it would be easier on his eyes if he just flipped on the light, but he liked to work in the dark, partly because it reminded him of the Bat Cave and working side-by-side with Bruce—better days.
Several results populated the screen, but only one vehicle in Gotham was registered in New Jersey that started with those plate numbers and matched the description of a black sedan. The car was registered to a man in the city—Aldo Becker.
Jason noted the several DUIs on the man's record with disdain. And this shithole somehow still had his license? He looked at Becker's connections and saw that his father worked highway patrol for the New Jersey State Police. Well, that explained it.
Feeling capricious, he grabbed a tire iron before heading out the door. His motorcycle rumbled to life under him as the engine turned over, and he rode out into the night.
A twenty-five-minute motorcycle ride, twenty minutes of fast work loosening rusted lug nuts, and four heavy wooden blocks later, he had dislodged all the tires from the car, slashed them, and threw them into a large recycling bin across from Aldo Becker's apartment.
Jason stepped back and admired his handiwork. His chest puffed out in pride as he rested the wrench end of the tire iron on his shoulder. It wouldn't keep Becker off the road for more than a day or two if he could spring for a new set of tires, but maybe it would make the asshole think twice about driving.
And, well, if Becker still didn't learn his lesson then Jason could always pencil in the time to swing by and relieve him of some more of his tires.
10:25 PM, Friday—C&D Cafe
Sabine pulled the second and final trash bag out of the bin by the locked door, which displayed the hanging 'CLOSED' sign.
In-between the catchy pop songs that blared on the radio in the closed cafe she overheard part of a news report during a commercial break:
"—GCPD has been investigating two tire jacking incidents by Robinson Park. The victim reported that twice in the past week he found all four of his tires had been stolen overnight—"
Marie let out an amused wheeze as she pulled the till out of the register. "Sounds like he pissed somebody off."
"Mhmm," Sabine agreed as she knotted the top of the black bag and pulled it across the floor.
"—officers currently have no leads but have advised residents in the area to park in well-lit areas and to install wheel locks to deter—"
Marie turned off the radio, cutting off the report. "I'll be in the office counting the money, then we can finish locking up and leave."
Sabine nodded absentmindedly as she headed for the back door as Marie disappeared into the small corner office next to the tiny kitchen. She was so close to freedom for the night.
Her hands full, she pushed open the back door with her hip and knocked down the door stop with her foot. She quickly glanced around the dimly lit and smelly alley, making sure there were no vigilantes in sight to pester her tonight.
A rat scurried across the ground as light from the cafe spilled into the cramped space and disappeared behind another cluster of trash cans.
After she threw the second bag into the dumpster and began to walk back to the cafe, the back door slammed shut. The thunderous sound echoed off the brick walls.
Sabine froze, her eyes widened into saucers. Maybe the kickdown door stop had finally broken after so much use?
She tugged at the handle, she even put her foot against the wall for leverage and yanked with all her non-existent might. Her arms hurt after a minute or two of fruitless attempts to force her way inside. Of course it was locked from the other side, trying to force it open was pointless.
In a moment of weakness, she conceded that Red Hood would probably be helpful right about now. He could probably kick the locking mechanism or barrel through it with brute strength.
She pounded on the door because she didn't have the key, she had left it in her bag inside.
"Marie?" She banged again and called out, "Marie? I got locked out."
Sabine waited. Minutes ticked by before she called again as she jostled the door handle in vain, "Marie?"
Then she felt it—a heaviness in the air and a suffocating presence ghosting over her body, chilling her blood and bones and tightening her airways. Ice water pumped through every artery and vein inside her body.
She choked on the air and wobbled backwards, gasping as she spat out saliva. Her back hit the bricks behind her.
The door swung back open with a slow and eerie creak and rattled as it hit the wall, inviting her inside.
She hesitated, unsure and frightened. Her breath was stuck in her throat, each inhale scorched her lungs.
Her legs piloted themselves, putting one foot in front of the other and creeping forward towards the door.
The fluorescent lights overhead flickered in and out as she stepped inside against her better judgement. Perhaps there had been a power outage?—she hoped optimistically.
Her nose twitched, a stale odor filled the air as she moved through the empty cafe.
"M-Marie?" her voice quivered.
No answer.
Fuck this, fuck this.
The bulbs in the light fixtures continued to blink in and out.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she made her way through the kitchen to the short hallway that led to the office. She tried to steady her breath in controlled waves, wrangling for control of the multitude of emotions that surged through her.
Fear, anxiety, panic—they swirled inside her like a furious hurricane.
It's fine, it's fine, everything is fine.
She could see that the light in the tiny office was out, the open door frame was swathed in darkness. She didn't know what compelled her to keep moving forward; maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe it was an invisible force pulling her, urging her on.
She stood in the door frame, her eyesight unable to penetrate the otherworldly blackness.
Sabine slipped her cellphone out of her back pocket, swiped up on the lock screen and tapped the flashlight button. A beam of light cut through the dark, illuminating the stained navy blue carpet.
She wanted to call out Marie's name, but instead a raspy croak escaped her mouth as she continued forward.
It's fine, it's fine, everything is fine.
Rolls of coins and crumpled bills lay scattered on the floor next to the computer desk. The till sat askew on the desk next to a calculator. From behind the corner of the large white desk, Sabine saw what looked like a tree branch reaching out obscured in shadows.
Her heartbeat quickened as she edged around the desk. Her bottom lip trembled and thoughts tumbled out of her head as she redirected the shaft of light from her phone. The computer chair was empty but was swiveled to the right.
She inhaled shakily as her gaze slowly floated down.
There, on the ground in front of her, was the shriveled and twisted husk of Marie's body.
A/N:
Updates might be slower for the next month or two, I'm adjusting to a new role at work that's sucking up a lot of energy/time.
Thanks for reading! And thank you for the nice comments/reviews :)