Page 41 of Veiled in Brick

“James, huh?”

I groaned, setting my fork down with purpose, and chastised, “Brenda.”

“Okay, okay,” she relented, holding up her hands in mock defense. “Sorry.” The bell from the front door chimed overhead, signifying a customer’s arrival. “I’ll go, finish your dinner—”

I shook my head, picking up the plastic container. “Nah, I’m done here.” I walked to the corner of the room by the kitchen sink and tossed the remains of my meal in the garbage can that resided there. “Don’t you have to leave soon to get your kids?”

Brenda glanced at the clock on the microwave to her left and, seeing that it was nearly six o’clock, she let out a surprised, “Oh! Thanks, Zoey, I lost track of time.”

That makes one of us.

It was two hours later when I was closing up shop. Brenda gone and the sun having set long ago, I shivered as I locked the front door to Zest and began to walk down the dark, deserted cobblestone path. My excruciating internal monologue was finally silenced as I braced myself for the eerie walk home. I would have welcomed the distraction but as my footsteps echoed, the tingles at the base of my spine told me that there was much to worry about. I shooed away the thought, the anxiety of being a small woman walking home alone in the dark always present, until the clack of my heel’s echo suddenly seemed like it wasn’t an echo at all.

I adjusted the speed of my steps—five paces slower, and then five paces faster, and the echo repeated my actions. I shook my head, continuing with my short commute.

Two blocks down, the pitter-patter of my shoes was amplified once more. I turned my head as casually as I could to glance behind me, moving my feet all the while, and saw nothing. No one. I strained my eyes against the dark, the only thing apparent being a stray napkin blowing across the street in the wind. My quickened breaths hung in the air, and though I felt anything but comfortable, I slung my purse more securely over my chest and began to walk again.

Several feet later, I heard it once more. The distinct soft padding of footsteps that I had been trying to convince myself that I wasn’t hearing at all were now most certainly becoming quicker than mine. I sped up, the duplication of my heels from behind me falling out of time with mine, and my heart hammered in my chest. I whipped my head around so quickly that part of my body went with it, and I was briefly thrown off balance. I threw my arms out as I fell, the palms of my hands scraping against a few particularly rough stones, and when I attempted to view whatever was behind me once more, I gasped.

The night did always play with my vision, but there was no mistaking the dark outline of a man approximately ten paces behind me. Though there was no way to make out the characteristics of the shadow in the darkness, it was certain that their steps had quickened. Their body bounced with the repetition of a running step as they bounded towards me.

There were possibilities other than this man having been stalking me in the shadows, really. He could enjoy nighttime, outdoor cardio sessions. He could have been leisurely walking behind me, witnessed that I had tripped and fallen, and sped up his pace to a jog to catch up and ensure that I was alright. He could have been on his way somewhere, received an alarming text message, and then began to run to his final destination. I supposed that all of these were considerable possibilities of what this man was doing behind me.

It was just that none of those possibilities seemed to be likely. Especially when I heard him exclaim loudly:

“Hey!” I scrambled to my feet and broke into a sprint the moment that the words left his lips. “Where are you going, baby?!” he called to me again. “Don’t run from me, beautiful, I just wanna talk!”

I cursed myself as I ran. I should have screamed, but my voice was…gone. I should have stood my ground. Pretended to have an enthusiastic phone call. Anything other than running would have been a good option. Knowing that my choice was a poor one that I couldn’t reverse, I let out a frightful whimper when his footsteps pounded louder behind me, overtaking mine. My race home was cut short when his fingers found the fabric of my skirt, and he tugged. I fell to the stones once again, the fresh scrapes on my palms taking another beating, and I clambered forward. I crawled, kicking as I moved, my heels finding little ground behind me, and he grasped my skirt more firmly, yanking it to move me closer to the adjacent alleyway.

“Get away from me!” I managed an attempted yell, but it came out hoarse.

There was still nearly a block to go before I would have made it home. The closest illumination being the lamplights that shined at the entrance to the apartment complex, we were shrouded in darkness. The scant public all walked happily on the main street there, unaware of the hell that I was placed in.

One of the man’s hands worked its way to my right shoulder, gripping me with a force that drove me down and brushed my clavicle against the ground. The cold of the stones pressed against my cheek. His breath was sharp against my face, the scent of cinnamon gum wafting into my nostrils.

“Seen you around here,” he whispered into my ear through grunts as I continued to attempt an escape. “Been wondering what your pussy tastes like.” I inhaled through my mouth, a long breath that was a feeble attempt to clear my mind, and let it out. He cooed, “You gonna relax for me, baby?”

I took another similar breath and on the exhale, I drove my right foot backward with as much force as I could muster.

He let out a sputtering, groaning gasp, the breath pulling from his lungs in deep heaves, and I knew that my heel had found his testicles. I reached my hands forward, manically pulling my way and kicking behind myself for good measure until I was, miraculously, free.

I didn’t look back. I simply ran. There were a few concerned glances at me from passersby as I made it into the light, but I paid them no mind. I just launched myself up the stairs to the apartment complex, digging through my bag rapidly, searching for my keys to no avail. They were missing—and I didn’t have the luxury of time to pause and search for them.

“Shit,” I hissed, skidding to a stop at my front door and banging on it with the hope that Claire was inside. “Claire?!” There was no answer, and I pounded on the door once more. “Claire!”

My tone was frantic, and just as I began to hear—or perhaps, I imagined that I heard—the stomping of heavy feet approaching the base of the stairs, the door opened behind me.

“Zo’?”

Without even glancing Liam’s way, I ran to him. I collided with him so roughly that he took a stumbling step back into his foyer, and he grunted upon impact.

I demanded, “Close the door!”

He did so, and I let out a very loud, shaky breath. My arms had subconsciously wrapped around his waist, and I squeezed him tighter as relief flooded me. Three of my panicked breaths later, Liam’s hands found their way around my shoulders and onto my back. They only stayed there briefly and then he released me, pushing to separate us. What began as a conglomeration of confusion and concern etching his expression shifted to wide-eyed anxiety as he held me at arms-length and glanced up and down at my appearance.

He rushed out, “What happened?”

I tried to speak. I truly did—I just couldn’t yet. My breath continued to come out ragged, and I witnessed Liam’s gaze move from my face down to my shoulder that had been pressed against the ground. His fingers brushed gently against the dirt that covered the red splotchy spot spread across the skin there. He grazed the back of his hand down the side of my dress, which was no longer the pristine white that it should have been, and touched the seam against my waist. It had ripped at some point during my struggle.

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