Page 4 of The Russian Pakhan's Forced Bride
“Me and that Moscato will hold you to it then,” Vanessa says, teasing me with a chastising point of her finger. “Have a good weekend, Vic.”
Nodding, I smile for her in return, feeling that usual warmth from our friendship moving through me. “Have a wild weekend for me. I’ll see you Monday.”
With a mock salute, Vanessa says her final goodbyes before leaving me to it as her steps recede down the empty hallway.
Letting go of a gentle breath, embracing being alone again, I refocus on the tasks at hand: cleaning up books, tidying the desks and classroom supplies, and finally sitting down to put the following week’s plans together.
It may be mundane and a bit monotonous, but with some music playing quietly from my laptop, I find myself in a soothing rhythm.
Every task, significant or not, helps me feel grounded, like everything is real and I’m not just dreaming up some kind of ideal life for myself.
There’s no shouting, doors slamming, or being blamed for things I had nothing to do with. No walking on eggshells or wondering when the other shoe will drop.
Instead, I have my place, I pay my own bills, and I have a fulfilling job that helps me get out of bed in the morning.
It all seems so simple…so basic, and almost a given to most people. But for me, it’s everything.
After everything I experienced as a kid and a young woman, I never thought I’d ever reach that level of confidence.
I never thought healing would be possible for me. But since making those moves for myself, reaching that state of equilibrium is not only tangible, but I have first-hand proof that it’s possible. And I made it possible.
After getting lost in my work, I stretch my arms over my head with a yawn, finally breaking out of that concentration. Rubbing at my eyes, I glance out the window to find the sky darkening quickly, streaked with deep blue tones fading to pure black.
Taking that as my cue to call it a night, I collect my things, slipping my coat on before slinging my purse over my shoulder.
Once everything is locked up, I move through the halls, finding them more eerily silent than before. With darkness shrouding my surroundings, I pull in a deep breath and continue, silently reminding myself to relax.
It’s fine…the halls are the same as during the day. It’s perfectly safe.
Heading out one of the rear exits, I see my breath puffs out around me while the cold evening air settles in my bones.
The amber light overhead throws long shadows across the pavement that almost seem to grab at me while I move. To my right, the janitor’s truck is parked closer to the dumpsters, offering me the slightest comfort.
Still, I quicken my pace, feeling as if every hair on my body stands on end.
Regardless of my past, I don’t normally frighten so easily, but something feels different. Like something is off, but I can’t pinpoint why yet.
As the distance between myself and the car dwindles, I dig into my purse for my keys, pulling them out with the usual jingle that seems much more grating at the moment.
My heart is in my ears, thudding like someone is chasing me.
But I’m alone…nobody’s around.
That thought dissolves the moment it sounds like there are two sets of footsteps. As if mine are echoing.
Surely that’s all it is…
The moment I pause, my footsteps fall silent. But the others don’t.
My breath catches as I freeze, wondering if I’m just imagining it. Yet, they continue. They start multiplying.
Several sets approach me from behind, and before I can will it away, I glance over my shoulder.
Multiple figures step out of the shadows, all dressed darkly. Their measured steps and the clouds of their breath in the air immediately force away the idea of anything supernatural or unexplainable following me.
No…the reality is almost scarier. Far more dangerous.
My heart pounds so loudly in my chest that I half expect it to give out as they approach.
