A Tear in the Darkness

I wake up to the sound of rain pattering on my windowpane, the air inside my room oddly cold. I grope around for my phone on the nightstand trying to make sure not to knock over the vase. I fiddle with the edges to find the power button and press it only to be greeted with a harsh light that instantly sends waves of throbbing pain inside my head. It takes me some time to adjust to the brightness as I squint to read the time. 6:37 A.M. I sigh dramatically and lie straight on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Everything's going to be fine," I mutter under my breath.

The ceiling fan overhead spins slowly; the sound of it is slightly disorienting. The squeaky bearings start to annoy me. I've tried to talk to the landlord about the faulty power supply, and the state of the ceiling fan inside my room. Honestly it feels like I'm very close to finding a new place to live.

I push aside the covers and get out of bed. I've been wearing the same sleepshirt for the last few days, and honestly, I don't feel like changing. My laundry is overflowing, and I'm dangerously close to running out of underwear.

Vera has left for her hometown, and she won't be back for a couple more days. It's times like these when I dread the quiet she leaves behind. She has a very infectious smile, and I honestly cannot live without it. At least, that's what I've been thinking for the last few years. Her family owns a plantation on the outskirts of Havenwood, and they are the main supplier of coffee to this godforsaken town. I've never met her family, but I had the chance to Facetime her mom. She seems alright. Except for the creepy vibes she gives every once in a while. I've never had someone who wants to know everything about me...From the size of my clothes to when my period starts, to how often I'm hanging out with men. It's a lot, but I try not to read too much into it.

I take a look at the bathroom door and try to steel myself towards it. If Vera were here, she would've physically pushed me into the shower by now, nagging me until I got things done. At twenty-three, I still need her to function sometimes. She really is like a sister to me.

I drag my feet into the bathroom. The overhead light paints a harsh glow, making the sensory overload kick in before I even reach the sink. I stare at the shower curtain. I really should take a shower, but the mere thought of the water pressure slamming against my skin feels completely exhausting under the weight of this gray weather.

Instead, I squeeze a dollop of toothpaste onto the brush and go through the motions, accidentally swallowing the thick minty liquid. It leaves a weird aftertaste that sends a slight shiver through my body. I skip the fluoride mouthwash and rinse my mouth with tap water.

I open the medicine cabinet and reach for my prescription bottle, giving it a slight shake. The sound that follows is a weirdly comforting one. "I should've majored in sound design," I say to myself. Not that a degree in history is a wasted effort. But where did it land me? I don't actually want an answer to that. I stare at the small pill resting in my palm for a long moment before swallowing it dry.

"I need to consult my therapist this weekend," I remind myself. I check out the dark circles under my eyes, and make sure the contacts are in place. "Nothing a little concealer couldn't solve," I say to my reflection. I almost believe it. Almost.

I pull on a grey t-shirt and black skin-tight jeans, throwing on a matching black jacket to brave the chill. I don't naturally wear deodorants because the scents completely overwhelm me. Before leaving the bedroom, I force myself to look at my laundry basket, mentally taking notes to come back and tackle the overflowing pile later tonight.

I purposefully avoid my vanity mirror on the way out. A massive crack runs straight through the lights positioned right in the middle, splitting my reflection into sharp, distorted angles. Something about looking at my face in the broken mirror feels like it will invite bad luck into my house. It's been broken since Vera and I awkwardly tried to move it in, and I have yet to replace it; she always promises she'll help me pick out a new one, but that day has yet to come.

My stomach gives a low, empty rumble, reminding me to eat something as I head to the kitchen. The cabinets beneath the stove were infested with roaches a few weeks ago, so I avoid storing chips and other snacks in there. And there's also the issue of my forgetting to stock the refrigerator.

The thought of going all the way to the diner just to eat breakfast is completely overwhelming. I try to avoid people as much as possible, but in my line of work, there's no room for that. If I'm being honest, though, their pancakes are to die for, especially with a thick layer of chocolate or maple syrup melting over the top.

I step into the small foyer and check the deadbolt on the back door, twisting it until it clicks, then checking it again. I walk to the front entryway and repeat the ritual, fiddling with the handle twice to make sure it's frozen solid.

Before opening the front door I slide my noise-canceling headphones over my ears. My phone's been unreliable lately, and it takes a beat to open the music app and find my playlist. I press play, and the dark, throbbing industrial synths of Antidote by HEALTH flood my ears, instantly cutting the rest of the world down to absolute silence.

When I push open the door and step outside, the damp coastal cold hits me. Havenwood is completely swallowed by a dense, towering forest isolating our little population of 3,000-ish people from the rest of the world. Our town's founding day is just around the corner. The mere thought of crowds and the booming noise from the speakers accompanied by the cacophony of people sends a sudden, sharp chill all over my body.

I pull the jacket tighter over my midriff, completely lost in a distant daydream as my footsteps match the song's heavy electronic tempo. I adjust my headphones and look at the weather-worn, colonial-style buildings looming over the sidewalks. The structures are beautiful, their moody, gothic trim twisting up into the low-hanging gray clouds. I move through the streets like a ghost passing through unnoticed, totally detached from reality.

A small blurry shape dashes out from a nearby porch. Before I can even register the movement, two tiny hands wrap tightly around my waist, pinning me in place. I blink, my daydream shattering as I look down into a pair of bright green, wide eyes. It's Lily, my neighbour's five-year-old daughter. She's laughing, her whole face lit up. I kneel down next to her, lifting my hand to playfully bop the bridge of her tiny nose.

"Good morning, Emma." She wraps her hands around my neck and plants a kiss on my cheek. "Do you want to see my new doll? It's got curly hair just like you. Her name is Emma."

"Aww! That's so nice of you, Lily. Another time maybe."

Her mom, Mrs. Andrea, waves at me and walks towards us. "Enough of that, Lily. Let Emma go. She's late for work. She tries to gently disengage her hands from me.

I promise to bring her back some candy, then kiss her on the forehead. I give her a quick reassuring wave and step past her, trying to make haste.

I take a slow, deliberate turn towards the roundabout, exiting the small alleyway, and cross the slick wet road towards the comforting glow of the diner's sign. I have just enough time before my own shop needs to open. Pushing through the diner's heavy glass door, I slide the headphones down around my neck.

The rich overpowering smell of sizzling bacon and eggs cuts through the dampness of my jacket. I hate it when it rains and leaves everything damp. But it's the cacophony of noise that hits me the hardest. Silverware clinks loudly against ceramic plates and the low murmur of morning chatter echoes off the low ceiling.

Everyone's morning stress seems to hang heavy in the air.

Amari spots me immediately from behind the counter and waves, her bright smile cutting through my groggy brain. She points directly toward the morning special chalkboard and signals for me to take a seat in my usual, quiet corner booth away from the main crowd.

I slide into the booth and begin to massage my temples. Something about last night is tugging at the back of my head. I had a rather dreamless sleep. But there was something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I remember walking towards the garden, but my mind feels foggy. I shrug off my jacket and my hands wander towards the neckline of my top. My fingers catch on a small, stinging gash just below my collarbone. Could be a hickey. Like I'd ever score a date in the first place. When was the last time I went on a date? Like never.

Did I have that before? My mind races, searching for an explanation. Maybe my silver chain caught on something...

On second thought... Did I lose the chain?

Crap! I slide out of the booth as a flurry of emotions takes over my body, desperate to get back to my house, when a sudden weight drops over my body from behind. A pair of familiar arms wrap tightly around my chest, knocking the air out of me, pinning me to the vinyl seat as a loud, exaggerated kiss is planted right on my cheek.

"Guess who's back early, love!"

I cringe hard, my face instantly flushing a bright, furious red as I try to duck out of the suffocating bear hug. "Vera! Gross. You have coffee breath."

She releases me with a dramatic gasp, mimicking a wounded look, and slides into the seat opposite me with a massive, triumphant grin. "Wow, look at you. Wearing appropriate clothes, out in public, before noon? And here I was worried you'd starve to death or drown in your own thoughts while I was gone."

Despite myself, the tight knot of anxiety in my chest loosens just a fraction at the sight of her, but as she reaches across the table to grab a wooden spoon, my hand instinctively drifts back down to my collarbone. It's true that I missed her. It's the first time she's been back home in five years, and the quiet got to me faster than I expected, and I could tell the trip weighed on her more than she let on.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be back until Thursday," I say, rubbing the spot on my cheek where she'd kissed me.

"Oh, yes love. That was my mom's plan. She wanted to keep me hostage for another week. Remember that douchebag, Matt? She tried to set me up on a date with him." Vera says. She reaches out and wipes her lipstick off my cheek. "Who the heck is going to take care of you if I'm not here? Nuh-uh! I'm not gonna leave you with the creep hanging around the property."

"I'm twenty-three, Vee. I'm not a baby."

"Hmph! Suit yourself." Vera rolls her eyes playfully, already fishing her phone out of her pocket. She unlocks it and begins scrolling, her thumb flicking rapidly through her social media feed. "But seriously, what about your sister? Have you at least returned any of her calls?"

I look down at my hands, tracing the seam of the wooden table. I hadn't. My phone vibrated seven times yesterday with her name flashing on the screen, and each time, the mere thought of tapping 'Answer' and having to summon the energy to speak has made my throat lock up. It was easier to ignore it. Easier to pretend I was too busy, even if the silence that followed only fed my guilt.

"I've been busy..." I try to dodge her question, adjusting my sleeves to hide my fidgeting hands.

My sister and I haven't exactly been talking ever since that day. I know it's my fault. I shouldn't have snapped. But it actually gave me a reason to leave that place we called home. But things aren't exactly going as planned.

"At least give her a chance, love. She's your sister. When was the last time you girls had a heart to heart?"

"Ew! Gross, Vee. I'm not exactly family material, you know."

Right on cue, Amari approaches with my plate of bacon and eggs. Her gaze slides to the seat across from me and lingers a beat too long, and her smile falters. She sets the plate down with a single set of silver ware, then hesitates. "Let me know if you need anything else, Em." Her voice is oddly soft. She prepares to jot down the orders from the couple adjacent to us.

Vera leans in closer to me and whispers. "Pfft, that bitch. Give yourself a break, Love."

"We've talked about this, Vee. I owe her."

"That doesn't give her the right to swoon all over you. What are you, a potential love interest?"

"I've had enough, Vee. I'm running late."

At the next table, the couple has gone quiet. The woman glances at me, then back at her coffee.

I shrug my jacket back on and try to slide out of the booth, and the hem of my sleeve gets caught on an exposed nail, ripping my favourite jacket. Vera lets out a snort and tries, miserably, to hide it with a paper towel. Frustration burns hot behind my eyes, and I yank the jacket off again. But my thin cotton top does little to mask the shiver that runs through my body.

"Here you go." A soft gray cardigan lands in my hands. I don't know where it came from, but Vera is already offering to drive me to my shop.

I pay the bill and step out of the diner. Vera pulls her car toward the front, and I hop into the passenger seat. She fiddles with her keys as the engine sputters to life, then flips through radio stations, thumb jabbing the dial, until she lands on something about the upcoming founder's day. The host goes on about proper attire and town decorum. She lets out a long sigh and starts massaging her temples with one hand, the other loose on the wheel.

"Vee, you alright there?" I ask. Dread starts building low in my stomach, the kind I can't quite explain.

She doesn't answer right away. The car drifts lightly toward the left as she blinks, slow and disoriented, and lets out a faint whisper under her breath. Panic floods me as I grab the wheel and steady it before we drift any further, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Something shifts at the edge of my vision. Not quite seen, just felt, as a whisper curls against my right ear, too close, too clear to be the radio.

Nos autem cum carne et sanguine.

Vera blinks hard, and the fog seems to lift off her all at once. "Jet lag, probably," she says with a faint laugh, like nothing ever happened. I gaze at her meaningfully before reaching out to wipe her forehead with my sleeve.

We pull into the parking lot and I climb out of the car, still trying to make sense of what I just heard. Vera's face goes pale. "Shit, love. Your nose is bleeding."

I reach up to my nose, fingers coming away slick with blood, and the world tilts sideways. A sharp pain blooms in my chest, swallowing every other sensation whole, and the last thing I register before the darkness takes me is the sound of my own name.

Thank you so much for reading A Tear in the Darkness! This story has been three years in the making, and I'm genuinely excited to finally share it with you.

A quick note on originality - Every character, twist and thread comes from my own imagination (with some pieces pulled from personal experience, including my own journey with social anxiety.)