Page 39 of Don't Watch Alone
Then the music starts.
The overhead speakers, which had spent the night playing relaxed jazz and store announcements, cut out mid-note—as if something had yanked the cord straight from the wall. For a moment, there was silence. And then, something colder creeps in: the fucking Halloween theme.
That’s when I know—we’re not just being watched anymore. Someone’s waiting for us.
The quiet doesn’t last. That floating piano note’s sharp pain ruins the moment, then the notes creep down my spine. It wraps around everything; this mall, the silence, Jade’s trembling body, and turns it into some fucked-up stage. A soundtrack, built just for us.
“Go. Run towards the food court,” I say, grabbing Jade’s arm and dragging her along, my eyes sweeping the walkway ahead—the dark storefronts with their dead display windows, the stiff mannequins frozen in place, the lifeless escalators that stretch upward into blackness. We run, our footsteps crashing against the tile, that cursed music increasing behind us, like it’s chasing us on two legs with a knife.
The food court yawns ahead like a place of the dead—chairs flipped over, trays strewn across the floor, napkins plastered to puddles of spilled soda. No people. Just the aftermath. At the far edge, behind the burger place, I see it: a narrow hallway tucked away where employees disappear on breaks.
We don’t slow down.
The dim entryway absorbs us whole, the lights above flickering just enough to throw everything into jerky motion, like frames from a broken film reel. The stink hits immediately—old grease, bleach, something sour beneath it all. Jade’s sobs echo off the concrete,and it’s like the music’s still seeping through the damn walls.
“It wasn’t real,” she gasps out between sobs, like if she says it fast enough, loud enough, she’ll start to believe it. “The hand, maybe it was fake. There wasn’t even blood. You saw it, right?”
I want to lie, and maybe I do. “You’re probably right.” I don’t know if I sound convincing, and I don’t really care. She just needs to keep moving. “We’re going to try the walkie again. Maybe Derrick, Drew or Eva will answer us.”
I touch the radio on my belt as if it were important, even though it’s been silent for the last half-hour as the world has fallen apart.
We keep going. The hallway has a small bend, doors along each side, and a low hum from machines hidden behind them: boilers, ice machines, the things missed when broken. Each door feels like a question we don’t want to answer. And then one of them isn’t fully shut. A heavy metal thing, gaping open just enough to let out a slow puff of cold.
It’s a walk-in.
“Here,” I say, drawing Jade closer, whispering because any noise might stir something up.
She flinches back, shaking her head. “It’s gonna be fucking freezing in there,” she says hesitantly, immediately hugging herself tight.
“It will be,” I say.
There are racks of produce, shelves of sealed containers, and a stainless-steel hook hanging a little too perfectly from the ceiling. The air hits my face—sharp, sterile, laced with lemon cleaner and something vaguely like flesh. I hate it. But it feels safe. Or at least unseen.
“I think this is our best shot,” I mutter. “Just for now. Just until we know that everything is going to be okay.”
I step inside first. The cold covers me instantly, stinging my skin, and clinging to my clothes. I turn, meeting Jade’s eyes, silently begging her to follow me. Because out there, the music hasn’t stopped. Out there, someone’s still listening and watching us.
Chapter twenty-one
Blaiz
Ipressthebuttonon the walkie and bring it to my mouth. My voice is shaky, but I am trying to sound calm. “Can anyone hear me? Over.” The static crackles in response.
Jade shifts beside me, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like she’s trying to hold her body together.
“It’s probably not working because of all the metal in here,” she says.
I nod slowly, even though I hate how right she probably is. “Yeah… yeah, that makes sense,” I mutter. “But what the hell do we do now? We can’t stay in here all night. We’ll fucking freeze to death.”
She’s shivering, rubbing her arms so hard I think her skin might start smoking from the friction, her eyes are glancing around the dim area like they’re expecting it to shrink in on us.
I glance around too, my eyes moving over the hanging racks, the shelves, the plastic curtains that move even though there’s no breeze. The overhead light, caged and flickering like it’s on its last leg, throws these long, twisted shadows across the walls and floor, deforming everything into something almost monstrous. As I start walking farther in, my footsteps are echoing too loudly against the slick floor, compelled deeper into the cold and the silence, which feels more like a presence than an absence.
Rows of meat hang in front of me, motionless until I pass them, then they start to swing. The pieces of flesh gleam under the dying light, some wrapped in cloudy plastic, others bare and veined, fat marbled like they were put on display. They creak slightly on their hooks, metal whining with the faint movements; the sound is like bones shifting in a shallow grave. The smell is dense; blood, metal, and foul. It hits the back of my nose and clings to it.
“This place feels like one of those fucked-up meat locker horror movies,” I joke. I don’t even know if I mean it to be funnyor just... human.
Jade lets out a weak laugh, but it dies quickly. “Yeah. Just waiting for the psycho with a spice rack.”
