Tessa adjusted the strap of her worn-out bag on her shoulder as she stepped out of Maya's apartment.
The hallway smelled faintly of detergent and stale coffee, the kind of smell that clung to old buildings and tired dreams. Maya had already left for work hours ago, her goodbye rushed, her hug tight.
"Don't forget to eat something," Maya had said, grabbing her keys.
"I will," Tessa had lied.
Now, alone, she locked the door behind her and leaned her forehead briefly against the cool wood.
You have to get your life together, she told herself. You can't keep hiding.
She straightened and walked down the stairs, each step echoing softly.
Outside, the city buzzed with life, honking cars, hurried footsteps, vendors shouting from across the street.
New York City never paused for anyone's fear.
She headed toward the café first.
The bell above the café door chimed when she stepped inside, and the warm smell of coffee wrapped around her like a familiar comfort. The barista glanced up.
"Morning."
"Morning," Tessa replied, forcing a small smile.
She walked to a corner table and set her bag down, tucking it carefully beneath the chair.
This café had become her temporary anchor, cheap coffee, free Wi-Fi, and the illusion of belonging.
She pulled out a folded list from her bag. Job postings she had scribbled down the night before. Cafés. Retail stores. Laundromats. Anywhere that might say yes.
"Just something," she whispered. "Anything, I need to put my life together"
After ordering the cheapest coffee on the menu, she sat for a few minutes, steadying her nerves.
Her phone buzzed with notifications—missed calls, unread messages.
She didn't open them.
Later, she promised herself.
By mid-morning, she stepped back outside, the sun already climbing higher. Her feet carried her from one place to another.
"Sorry, we're not hiring."
"Leave your resume."
"Try again next month."
Each rejection chipped away at her resolve.
By noon, her legs ached and her stomach growled angrily. She ignored it, tightening her grip on her bag as she walked down a quieter street.
That was when she felt it.
That strange sensation.
Like eyes on her back.
She slowed her steps.
Her heart skipped.
You're just tired, she told herself. Paranoid.
Still, the feeling didn't go away.
Her skin prickled.
She glanced at a shop window, catching her reflection and movement behind her.
Her breath hitched.
She stopped abruptly and turned around.
The sidewalk was empty and there was nobody.
A couple stood farther down the street, arguing quietly. A man pushed a cart across the road. Nothing unusual.
She let out a shaky laugh.
"See? Nothing."
She turned back as she took a deep breath and continued walking.
Two steps in—
The feeling returned.
Stronger than earlier.
Her pulse quickened. Her thoughts spiraled.
"What if it's my father? What if Collins sent someone?"she muttered beneath her breath
Her chest tightened.
She picked up her pace.
The sound of footsteps echoed faintly behind her.
She stopped again, heart pounding, and spun around.
Nothing.
"Stop it," she whispered harshly to herself. "You're losing it, put yourself together"
She crossed the street quickly, nearly colliding with a cyclist who cursed under his breath. She didn't apologize.
Her focus was on getting home.
Her phone vibrated in her bag.
She froze.
Slowly, she pulled it out.
No new messages.
Just her imagination.
Get a grip, Tessa.
She walked faster now, her breaths shallow. Every sound felt amplified, the rustle of paper, the creak of doors, the echo of her own footsteps.
She turned down a narrower street.
The buildings here were taller, shadows stretching long across the pavement.
Her heart hammered violently.
Don't panic. Don't panic.
She glanced back again.
This time—
She thought she saw someone step behind a parked car.
Her blood ran cold.
"Hey," she called weakly. "Is someone there?"
Silence.
Her throat went dry.
She didn't wait anymore.
She ran.
Her shoes slapped against the pavement as she sprinted the rest of the way, adrenaline flooding her veins. She didn't stop until she reached her apartment building.
Hands shaking, she fumbled with the keys.
"Come on, come on," she whispered frantically.
The door opened.
She rushed inside and slammed it shut behind her, locking it immediately. She leaned against the door, chest heaving, sweat slicking her palms.
For several seconds, she just stood there, listening.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No voices.
She slid down the door and hugged her knees, breathing hard.
"You're safe," she murmured. "You're safe."
But the feeling didn't leave.
That night, as darkness settled over the city, Tessa lay on the couch, unable to sleep. Every creak made her flinch. Every sound sent her heart racing.
Her phone buzzed again.
She checked it reluctantly.
A message from her younger sibling.
"Please reply. Dad is losing his mind."
She closed her eyes.
"I can't," she whispered. "I just can't."
She tossed the phone aside.
Minutes passed.
Then—
A soft knock echoed through the apartment.
Her body went rigid.
Knock.
She held her breath.
Another knock.
"Tessa?" a male voice called softly from the other side of the door.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She stood slowly, tiptoeing closer.
"Who is it?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
No answer.
She reached for the door handle, then hesitated.
Her phone buzzed again in her hand.
A new message.
Unknown number.
I know you're inside.
Her blood ran ice-cold.
The knock came again—louder this time.
Her hand shook as she backed away from the door.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice trembling as her eyes were wide darting from one place to another.
Silence.
Then—
"Open the door, Tessa."
Her breath caught.
"He knew her name, how did he know her name?
Who was he?" She muttered beneath her breath
Her legs felt weak as she stared at the door, terror crawling up her spine.
Outside, footsteps moved closer and closer
And whoever it was
Wasn't leaving.
She sat on the floor, her hands shaking, fingers twitching,palms damp with sweat, heart pounding restlessly.