Leah
Chapter 1
“fuck this town”, I thought to myself, walking home after a long shift.
It was dark out—gloomy. The town was quiet, barely any cars passing by.
I usually never walk home alone, but tonight I didn’t have a choice. I hated walking alone at night. Ever since I turned eighteen, although i am twenty two years of age now, I’ve been haunted by a shadow. My family knows. Even the cops know. But fuck the cops—what have they ever done to help me? I felt useless. I felt hopeless. This was a battle I had to fight on my own. I never saw the shadow’s face, but I knew he was there—lurking in the dark, watching me. He stalked me from a distance, always just out of reach. And it wasn’t just me—anyone close to me became a target. My friends got the same anonymous phone calls, the same creepy texts. Pictures of me in public. Messages like, “Stay away from my girl.” Of course, the number could never be traced. It was a lost cause. Just like me. I had no help. And I was starting to think I was losing it—losing my mind. I even thought about checking myself into the psych ward. Maybe that would’ve helped.
What the hell am I thinking?
I just want to live my life. Like everyone else.
Finally home after the fifteen-minute walk from Minnie’s Diner. Being a waitress there has its ups and downs—the tips are good, the hourly pay isn’t terrible, but the angry customers? Not my problem. I just take the orders and serve the food. After a few years, it almost feels like I run the place. That diner is my baby. I’ve learned how to handle the difficult ones and keep things professional—well, as professional as anyone can be in a place that smells like bacon grease and burned toast.
As soon as I open the door, Willow—my calico cat—comes running to greet me. I’m never sure if she’s happy to see me or if she just wants to sniff the fryer oil clinging to my clothes. Either way, she’s family. The only family I’ve really got. My parents and I haven’t spoken in years—it was always drama, always fighting. Still, blood’s blood, even if it runs cold.
I drop my purse on the kitchen counter of my studio apartment. It’s not much, but it’s mine. Spacious enough, at least, and completely decked out in my favorite Halloween aesthetic—year-round.
Dark wood floors, white walls covered in band posters. Black rugs tucked beneath my bed and couch. A flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Plastic pumpkins scattered across shelves and counters. A pair of little skeletons guard the place—one perched on the kitchen counter, the other sitting beneath the TV with an arm raised like it’s holding the screen up. It’s nothing fancy, but it feels like me.
I slide the free staff meal into the fridge, then glance back at Willow and smile. I scoop her up, carry her to my queen-sized bed, and sink into the blankets with her curled on my chest. I close my eyes and drift, dreaming of something more—a big black manor tucked deep in the forest, far from customers, family, noise. Just me and Willow, finally left alone
The shrill ring of my alarm dragged me from sleep. For a moment, panic sparked—until I remembered it was my day off. I sank back against the pillow with a relieved sigh, stretching until my joints popped. My work clothes still clung to me from the night before, stiff and wrinkled from hours of restless tossing.
I forced myself out of bed and headed for the shower. The steam curled around me like a soft blanket, washing away the lingering grogginess. I had barely wrapped a towel around myself when my phone began pinging relentlessly. Olivia.
“Hey, Meet me at Minnie’s Diner, the message read.”
I sent back a quick thumbs up, already picturing the golden pancakes that had ruined my self-imposed “avoid-Minnie’s-on-my-days-off” rule. It was our spot—where we caught up on drama and traded confessions over coffee refills.
In my closet, I sifted through clothes until my hand landed on a pair of black leggings and a worn band T-shirt. My Vans completed the uniform. The mirror confirmed my usual preference for baggy tops—they softened the parts of my body I didn’t care to showcase. My curves balanced me out, full and even, but old habits kept me covered. I brushed my dark black hair until it fell smooth, then swept on just enough makeup to complement my pale complexion: eyeliner sharp enough to define, mascara to make my eyes stand out.
Before leaving, I bent to kiss Willow goodbye. Minnie’s was only a short walk away, and with my car dead in the parking-lot —its engine a problem I couldn’t afford to fix—walking had become my only option. Earbuds in place, I let the music carry me through the cool September air.
The breeze kissed my cheeks, carrying the scent of dry leaves. Autumn leaves twirled to the sidewalk in lazy spirals, their colors deepening to shades of rust and gold. I could live in this season forever—not the sweltering heat of summer or the bitter bite of winter, but this perfect in-between.
Minnie’s doorbell chimed as I stepped inside, and there she was—Olivia—bathed in the soft light from the window. Her sun-kissed skin glowed against her delicate spring dress, blonde hair falling in perfect waves. Her makeup was, as always, flawless, making her blue eyes almost startling in their brightness. She looked up, catching my gaze, and a slow smile curved her lips. She waved me over with a welcoming geature yelling out “leah over here”.
I slid into the booth across from her. But behind her smile was something else—an edge, a shadow. She tilted her head, offering me a crooked half-smile before letting out a sigh.
“He messaged me again,” Olivia let out, her breath shaky.
It read off of olivias phone “i am watching you when you are with her”.
The words settled heavy between us. My stomach knotted instantly. I didn’t need to ask who he was—my stalker, the shadow that had lingered over my life for years, reaching for not just me but everyone in my orbit. Olivia had never seemed shaken by him before, but months without a trace had let me believe, foolishly, that he was gone. That I was free.
I rolled my eyes, my voice unsteady. “When will it ever stop?”
Her hand slipped across the table, fingers curling around mine. “We could run,” she said softly. “Cross the country. He’d never find you.”
A laugh escaped me, half disbelief, half exhaustion. “It’s been four years. You think he’d just… give up?” My chuckles filled the space between us, but the heaviness in her eyes told me neither of us really believed it. We were greeted by Sydney, one of my coworkers who’d been at Minnie’s much longer than I had. She was in her late forties, and streaks of gray threaded through her dark hair—a silent testament to the stress she carried. Her three boys she often said, kept her on edge in ways I could only imagine. My mother used to warn me stress was the quickest way to get gray hairs, and looking at Sydney, I believed it. I never judged her—I actually felt sorry for her.
Sydney was going through a messy divorce and working doubles to keep things afloat. I’d even cut my hours short so she could pick up extra shifts. She needed every dollar she could get to support her boys and handle the chaos of her life.
She greeted us with her usual tired but warm smile. “You sure picked a busy day to come in,” she said, glancing around the diner packed wall to wall. “We’ve been slammed since the first hour we opened.”
The place buzzed with energy, voices overlapping in a comforting din. But honestly, who could resist? We had the best pancakes in town.
Olivia and I got comfortable in our booth and I ordered my usual: black coffee, pancakes, and eggs. Olivia picked a pumkin latte, bacon, and eggs, her eyes already drifting back to her phone as Sydney moved off to tackle the next table.
I watched Olivia’s fingers hover over the screen, trembling slightly as she stared at the unknown number. It was the same number that had been sending those chilling messages—the one belonging to my stalker.
“Any luck?” I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tightening knot in my chest.
She shook her head, biting her lip. “No. I’ve been trying to trace it ever since you told me about him but Nothing. It’s like he’s a ghost.”
The words hung between us, heavier than the din around us. I could feel the weight settle deep in my bones, a cold reminder that this nightmare wasn’t over.
“I hate that we can’t even see him coming,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Olivia reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “We’ll figure something out. We have to.”
Her reassurance was a fragile thread of hope in a storm I wasn’t sure we could weather. While Olivia and I waited for our food, I reminded myself to stay patient. I worked here—I knew how long things could take during a busy shift. Olivia excused herself from the booth to use the restroom, and I turned my gaze toward the window beside us, watching the world outside blur softly in the afternoon light.
Suddenly, my phone pinged. I unlocked it, and my breath caught in my throat. The message read: “You look beautiful today, and I even see you did your makeup.”
A gasp escaped me—fear rippling through every nerve. My hands trembled, but something inside me snapped. No more silence.
Fingers trembling, I typed back aggressively: “Who are you? Maybe you should show yourself.”
I’d never messaged my stalker before, and my heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst. The fight inside me was brutal—a battle between fear and defiance.
Almost immediately, the phone pinged again. I stared at the screen, reading the chilling reply: “Not yet, my princess of darkness.”
Fury surged through me. How dare he already call me pet names? The insult stung sharper than I expected, and I couldn’t hide the anger flashing across my face.
Just then, Olivia returned from the restroom. Her eyes locked onto mine, concern instantly written across her face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.
Without a word, I handed her my phone. She read the messages, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes went wide, disbelief and horror flooding her expression.
“How… how could you even respond to this perv?” she whispered, as if the words themselves were dangerous.
I didn’t have an answer. I just knew I couldn’t keep hiding from him anymore.
