Page 21 of Shadowed Whispers

“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last,” I deflect, feeling the weight of being an outsider in this town settle around me, but his determination stirs something inside me. “I can handle myself.”

“I noticed,” he whispers, letting silence wrap around us. In this silence, I feel an unsettling calm.

My heartbeat steadies, and a profound feeling of emptiness unfurls within me, filling the spaces left by fading adrenaline with a hollow echo of solitude. My attention is irresistibly drawn to the bar’s entrance, beyond which lies a world bathed in a soft, golden glow. Through the fogged glass, snippets of laughter and the melodious rise and fall of carefree conversations escape into the night. The light from within casts long, inviting shadows that play upon the threshold, marking the line between my shadowed world and their radiant one. It’s a siren’s call to a place where spirits are lifted and hearts are light, yet to me, it underscores a poignant contrast—a beacon of what I long for but feel undeserving of.

This laughter, this light, doesn’t just illuminate. It highlights the chasm of experiences that separates me from them. I stand on the precipice, caught in the gravity of their world yet forever orbiting outside it, an observer longing to step into the warmth but tethered to the darkness by invisible chains of my own making.

I crave to join them, but I’m stuck in the shadows that give me power.

This yearning isn’t something new. It’s like a constant buzz in the background of my life, filled with almosts and what-ifs. Tonight, though, it hits harder. The laughter and light from inside the bar feel like they are both soothing and taunting me at the same time. I wish I could just step through that door, bask in the light, and shake off the darkness that’s like a second skin to me, but deep down, I know that even surrounded by them, I’d still feel out of place, different, and alone.

This realization is heavy, a kind of sorrow that’s become a part of me. Recognizing this gap, though, also brings a weird kind of comfort—a reluctant acceptance of being on the edge. For now, I’m okay with just watching, listening, and dreaming from the sidelines, guarding my heart and my secrets, and somehow finding a bit of peace in my own company.

Even though the school offers me a bed to sleep on and a roof over my head, I don’t know if I can even bring myself to go back on campus tonight. The thought of the sterile dorm room makes me feel even more disconnected.

“You okay?” Leo’s touch sends shivers down my arm, his concern breaking through my resolve. The warmth of his hand contrasts sharply with the cool night air.

“Yeah,” I lie and swallow my emotions, hopping off the picnic table. Running my sweaty palms down my jeans, I give Leo what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’m just going to head out.” I know Andy will clock me out and put my tips in my lock box. I have everything I need on my person. I always do. The keys jingle softly in my pocket, a comforting, familiar sound.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he offers, his posture relaxed yet filled with a quiet intensity.

“No need.” The words escape with more venom than I intended, a defense mechanism flaring up whenever I feel cornered. “I can handle it,” I say, trying to sound softer.

Leo’s expression shifts from concerned to hurt in an instant, and the sight twists a familiar knot of guilt in my chest. I berate myself silently. Why do I push away people who reach out? Part of me cynically wonders how long he’d stay interested before leaving like the rest.

“I know you can. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he says, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity that makes me pause, even in my resolve to keep him at a distance.

“I’m sure Chloe is waiting,” I add, the words tasting like vinegar on my tongue. “And your friend.”

Leo pauses, a mix of confusion and hurt dancing in his ocean blue eyes. His concern, so raw and genuine, is such a stark contrast to the skepticism that’s become my armor. “I just want to make sure you’re alright,” he insists, his voice softening, trying to bridge the gap I’ve put between us.

“I’m alright,” I assure him, attempting to infuse a warmth I don’t fully feel into my voice. The effort falls flat, my words sounding hollow even to my own ears. When I see the hurt flash across Leo’s face, I’m reminded of the walls I’ve built, not just around my heart, but around my very being. They are meant to protect me, yet here they are, isolating me once more.

“Just... text me when you get back, okay?” he asks, reaching for his phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t have a phone,” I admit, feeling bare. I tuck my hands into my back pockets, the stickiness of the beer drying on my skin, making me itch to move. I’ll need another shower soon.

“Leo?” Chloe’s voice is my cue to leave. “There you are, Leo. We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she says, her tone dripping with insincerity. Her gaze flicks dismissively over me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, Frankie, still playing the tough girl? I would have thought you’d have learned your place by now.”

Leo steps forward, his body tensing. “Chloe, that’s enough,” he says, but she waves him off, her eyes alight with malicious glee.

“Why, Leo? It’s just Frankie. Not like she matters, right?” Chloe’s words are venomous, each syllable designed to wound. “Running off to play hero for the bar brawler? I’m surprised you’re not tired of this charade.”

I feel a tightness in my chest, the air around me suddenly too thin. Leo’s voice, firm and protective, barely registers. “Chloe, stop. This isn’t you.”

But it is her, and her words cut deeper than she knows. The weight of her disdain and the years of being on the outside looking in all become too much. Without a word, I turn, letting the night swallow me whole. Leo calls after me, his voice laced with worry, but Chloe’s laughter echoes louder in my ears.

I don’t look back, not as I step over the unconscious student and not as I round the corner, heading to my Jeep. As soon as they can’t see me, I feel a sense of calm that rushes over me, sinking into my bones.

A slight breeze rolls off the ocean and blows through my hair, chilling my sweaty skin. The streetlamps flicker overhead, their soft glow stretching the shadows on the ground. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I look back, noting just how alone I am, and I let the shadows creep up my legs like an inky fog. They swirl around me, greeting me with a hug. I hold my hand out, and they weave between my fingers and then up and over my arms.

For the first time today, a genuine smile stretches across my face.

I let my shadows do their thing as my Docs crack over the gravel road that stretches along the coast. The faint, salty breeze of the ocean lingers in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the gravel beneath my feet. Andy doesn’t like us parking in the small lot, so she lets us park in her driveway. She only lives a block away in this fifteen-minute city, where everything feels close yet so far when shrouded in my solitude.

I can just make out my red Jeep when my shadows try to tug me in another direction—back the way I came. The pull is insistent, like a whisper of caution carried on the wind. Nope, not happening today. I push through despite the shadows wrapping around my legs, causing me to pause on the street just feet from my Jeep. They are acting as though they don’t want me to go to the Jeep, which is strange.

“I just want to shower,” I whisper to the defiant shadows. They’ve never done this before, which is odd. I plant my feet and refuse to move forward or backward. The night air cools my skin, raising goosebumps as the shadows cling to me. Slowly, bit by bit, they peel back from my legs, but then they do the darndest thing—they wrap around me head to toe, making me appear as though I’m a walking, talking shadow. I didn’t know I could do that.

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