"It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop." – Confucius

The stench of liquor clung to the air, suffocating me and twisting my stomach into knots of disgust. I fought back the rising nausea as I slid the shooter across the bar to my most troubling customer, Nelly—a desperate woman who seemed to haunt Sip and Savor, the café and bar where I worked.

Nelly's frail hands gripped the glass as if it were her only lifeline. She raised it to her cracked lips, releasing a heavy sigh that carried the weight of her unspoken burdens. The sound twisted my stomach further, forcing me to turn away and immerse myself in mundane tasks behind the bar, anything to distract from the pain.

I didn't resent Nelly for her choices, even if they led her to drown her sorrows in poison at least four times a week. My disgust was less about the alcohol and more about the addiction that enslaved her and so many others in this city. I had learned long ago to turn off my sympathy for the addicts shuffling through these streets. "Hailing Cove: a haven for the despondent and shattered," should have been the town's motto, emblazoned on postcards for all to see.

Every fiber of my being longed to break free from this place, to flee far away from the chains of obligation that bound me to the only two people I cared about. I felt trapped in a relentless cycle of pain and helplessness. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and plastered on what I hoped was a bright smile. "Are we ready to close your tab for the night? It's almost one in the morning, and you're the last one here."

Nelly grimaced, her cheeks flushing as she pondered. "Mm, mind slapping another round on it? It's going to be a cold one tonight; I can't catch frostbite this early in the winter."

I froze, slowly turning my head back to her. The reality of her appearance hit me like a punch to the gut. Nelly was alarmingly thin—a mere wisp of a woman. Her skin was stretched and translucent, as if it might tear with a single touch. Aside from the deep blush alcohol provided, her face was deathly pale, and her sunken eyes, framed by sharp cheekbones, gave her a gaunt, haunted look. She seemed to have deteriorated significantly in just a week. Nelly must have been homeless again.

Frustration clenched my jaw. The last time this had happened, she'd refused to go to the shelter and had nearly overdosed on heroin just to survive the nights. I wanted to bang my head against the counter, to scream, but I couldn't. Instead, I inhaled sharply and forced my expression into one of polite understanding. I stepped closer, my voice barely above a whisper. "Nelly, are you sleeping on the streets again?"

The pure desperation in her eyes made me take a step back, as though she had unleashed a torrent of emotion that sent chills down my spine. Swallowing hard, I pushed through my discomfort, shakily reaching for her hand, fully aware that I might soon regret it.

As our skin touched, a blinding, white-hot pain seared up my arm. I gritted my teeth, feeling her agony seep into me, festering deep in my stomach. Yet I saw the relief wash over her face, her wrinkles momentarily smoothing out.

"I could get Mimsy for you," I said, my voice trembling. "You know she wouldn't mind giving you a place to stay. I know you'll want to tell me off for even suggesting it, but it's going to be way below freezing tonight. Alcohol won't keep you warm."

Nelly closed her eyes, silent sobs wracking her frail body. I knew she hated asking for help. A part of me wondered if she enjoyed torturing herself, believing she somehow deserved this suffering.

"Please," I croaked, "let her help you. Just this once." The longer I held her hand, the more intense the pain became. My knees began to weaken; if I didn't let go soon, I would collapse. Nelly nodded, and I almost sighed with relief as I released her hand.

Her hopeful expression twisted my stomach further. It was fleeting. My touch was like a band-aid—capable of drawing out some pain, but it would always return, like an unrelenting disease. I felt utterly useless. Nelly would revert to her self-destructive ways by morning. The cesspit that was Hailing Cove would ensure it. I was too selfish to keep touching her; the pain it caused me wasn't worth it. To be frank, my curse was just a crutch for these people, not that they knew what I could do.

"Alright," I said, turning to grab another shooter, pouring two fingers of whiskey. "Finish this off, and she'll be here to take you." Nelly mumbled a soft thank you, greedily gulping the liquor.

I made my way down the dimly lit hallway toward the back of the building, approaching Mimsy's office at the end. The silence felt oppressive as I softly knocked on the heavy oak door. I waited for a reply, but the silence stretched on. After what felt like an eternity, I let out a frustrated sigh and pushed the door open.

Inside, the office was a chaotic mess of papers, overturned cushions, and scattered belongings. The air was thick with dust and the scent of days-old coffee. Mimsy was hunched over her desk, her hair a tangled mass of gray, her thin lips parted in soft snores. I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Mimsy to pass out at work instead of heading home.

I closed the distance and shook her awake. Startled, she shot upright, her eyes scanning the room as if she had just awoken from a nightmare. A pang of anxiety flickered in my chest—I knew that feeling all too well. After a moment, her gaze settled on me. "Bad dream?" I asked, attempting to lighten the mood with a smirk.

Mimsy grunted, glancing at her wrist, where her old watch displayed the time. She cursed and stood, almost knocking me over as she scrambled to tidy her desk. "Mimsy, don't worry about it. I still have to clean up front anyway. I came in here for a reason... I need you to take Nelly home. She—" I hesitated, not wanting to see her reaction. "She's homeless again."

Mimsy froze, her posture rigid. Silence hung in the air, and I began to fidget.

Please, please, please don't lose your temper.

"How long?" she finally asked. I shrugged, feeling the weight of her question crush down on me. I knew it couldn't be longer than a week, but I didn't want to pry. This was Mimsy's area of expertise, not mine.

Mimsy rolled her eyes and lightly punched my shoulder. "Yeah, shouldn't have asked you of all people." A bitter laugh slipped from my lips. She knew me better than I knew myself. The chance of me prying into someone's life was about as likely as Mimsy winning the lottery, and she wasn't the gambling type.

"Well, no worries. I can take her in for a couple of nights. Get her back on her feet. Want me to swing back and drop you home?" Her tone was filled with hope, and dread twisted in my gut. I groaned internally. Mimsy had been hounding me for one-on-one time, convinced I was spiraling emotionally again. And to be fair, she wasn't wrong... I was. But it wasn't her job to manage my state of mind, and I would never expect her to understand the turmoil within.

"Uh, no. I'll finish closing and just order an Uber. Focus on Nelly."

Mimsy suddenly cupped my face lightly, almost motherly. "You may try to convince most people that you're okay, but I see you, love. Just don't shut me out again." Her soft voice intended to warm me, but it only fortified the walls I had built around my heart. She may have been the closest thing I had to family, but she couldn't possibly grasp the depths of my pain.

I forced a smile, nodding as if everything were fine, but inside, I felt as though I were unraveling thread by thread. With a gentle squeeze to my shoulder and a soft kiss on my cheek, she wished me a good night and left. As soon as I heard the soft click of the office door shutting behind her, I flung myself onto the ripped couch opposite her desk, a wave of despair crashing over me.

I slammed my head against the hard back of the couch, begging the universe to make it all stop. Yes, I was spiraling. I had been going downhill since moving back to this town a year ago. Remembering everything that had happened with him, with everyone, made my skin crawl. Adding to that, every other person in this town carried some deep-rooted trauma, making living here my personal hell.

But I had no choice. This was where Mimsy had grown up, and Hailing Cove housed Covecrest, the only university that had offered me a full scholarship. So regardless of my past or the people here, I felt trapped. At least for the next two years.

Time dragged on as I finished closing the café. The sticky tables were spotless, the floors swept clean, and the chairs tucked neatly. My only task left for the night was to order a ride and hold my breath, hoping for a driver who wouldn't initiate small talk.

I shivered at the very thought. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I opened the ride-sharing app and ordered the car. Almost immediately, my phone pinged, confirming a driver was on the way. I hastily grabbed my backpack from Mimsy's office and clocked out on her computer—the sound of the punch clock echoing in the silent café. As I walked down the dim hallway, I locked the front entrance before exiting through the large metal door behind the kitchen, the familiar scent of grease and old coffee lingering in the air.

Stepping into the alleyway, I inhaled the chill night air, feeling a moment of relief wash over me. The sky was surprisingly clear for mid-November. An almost full moon illuminated the deserted road along Main Street. On this side of town, the mom-and-pop joints had already closed for the night, their warm lights extinguished. The only illumination came from the sporadic streetlamps lining the sidewalks. Sometimes, I appreciated how small Hailing Cove was. It felt silent, wrapped in a comforting stillness that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

I numbly walked toward the road beside Sip and Savor, settling myself on the freezing cement of the sidewalk. The soft rustling of trees in the nearby forest lulled me into a state I could only describe as nothingness—a brief escape from the chaos in my mind. I briefly wondered whether I would always be like this—a loner, someone who preferred solitude, someone who found solace in darkness. I had friends—well, a friend. My best friend, Skylar. But would she eventually outgrow me? It wasn't far-fetched. Sky was popular, outgoing, and stunning, while I felt like a hollow shell, weighed down by my curse and my past. Maybe it was—

CRASH.

My head whipped up, heart pounding in my chest. The sound had come from an alleyway across from me, the emptiness between the buildings shrouded in an almost unnatural darkness—a void where light dared not tread. I tilted my head, trying to force my eyes to focus, but nothing changed; I couldn't see a thing. I stood and checked the road before slowly crossing the intersection. Shadows seemed to dance before me, as if whatever was in that alleyway was swaying side to side. I swore it looked like there was a person standing in the depths of the darkness. But... maybe there wasn't. It could be a trick of the light.

As I approached, my eyes finally adjusted enough to see within the alleyway, and the shadows that had frightened me moments before turned out to be nothing. I was utterly alone. No animals, no person, no trash cans overturned by the wind. Maybe I was losing my mind.

A long, loud horn blast sliced through my anxious thoughts, making me jump. I snapped my head to the right, spotting my Uber driver staring at me through the windshield of his black sedan, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. I guessed seeing someone standing alone on a road, staring down an alleyway like they were about to pee themselves, would categorize as crazy in my book too. I muttered a few curse words under my breath and dashed to the car, embarrassment flooding me. I climbed in, took a few breaths to steady my racing heart, and mumbled an apology.

Tonight had successfully scrambled my brain. My shift had seemed to stretch on forever. Nelly was particularly self-destructive, and Mimsy had spent the whole day trying to engage me in a conversation I wasn't ready for. Oh, and I was pretty sure I had a history paper due tomorrow that I hadn't even started. With all that said, what had just happened had to be a stress-induced hallucination. Nothing more, nothing less. I just needed to get a grip on myself.

"So, you go to Covecrest?" the driver asked out of the blue, breaking the momentary silence. I assumed he had seen the destination before picking me up.

I rolled my eyes with an inaudible sigh. Here we go... small talk. My favorite. "Uh—yeah. Second year."

"That's nice. You pick a major yet? I have a few friends that go there. They love how small it is—easy to make friends, easier to get through lectures. I haven't gone to college yet, so I'm not sure—" Blah...blah...blah. The man kept talking. Well, the proper terminology would have been rambling. It was seriously frustrating when someone told you a long story about themselves instead of waiting for an answer. I mean, we were strangers. I really didn't need to know why his friends liked Covecrest or why he decided his gap year should turn into a three-year vacation from 'adulthood.'

The man laughed at something he said and continued, "Anyway, enough about them or me. What was I getting at?" He paused as he turned down the hill toward the university. My escape was only minutes away now, thank God.

"You asked me my major," I answered in a monotone voice, hoping to end this interaction swiftly.

"Right!" Silence blanketed the car.

One second passed.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

"So... what's your major?" he finally asked...again.

I sighed. "Undeclared."

"No worries!" he exclaimed, his tone overly cheerful. "Some of my friends are still undecided too. No rush in these things. I'd want to make sure I wasn't wasting my degree, either." I rolled my eyes again. No, he would rather waste his time driving people back to their dorms.

Mercifully, he fell silent. Sweet, sweet silence enveloped us until he pulled up to the building labeled Pebblebrook Hall—a name that felt more suited for a dog park than a university residence. The man offered a gentle goodbye, which I responded to with, you guessed it, a monotone goodnight.

Was I being a jerk for no reason? Yes. Did I care? Not one bit. He was kind—someone Skylar would probably say was cute and worth getting to know. But I wasn't Skylar, and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and think about the paper I wouldn't finish. So, with that in mind, I closed the car door and rushed away, eager to escape the awkwardness.

The second I closed the door to my room, I flung myself onto my bed, letting out a shaky breath. I glanced over to see if my roommate was in bed; she wasn't. Her side of the room was divided by a plastic privacy screen, separating her space from mine. Pink plushies and clothes were strewn everywhere on her side—a real mess. My side was bare, adorned only with a poster of my favorite band, a bookshelf filled with fantasy and thriller novels, and an old vinyl collection. Nothing else. And thankfully, not pink.

That privacy screen was everything to me.

Sophia hated the idea of a roommate. She'd told me she wouldn't sleep over much when we first met. Apparently, her boyfriend was a beefy jock who was part of a fraternity, and she slept over there almost every night. Truthfully, that made her the perfect roommate. Sophia and I weren't close, but we didn't hate each other either. We both enjoyed living our lives separately. Plus, I appreciated that she rarely slept here. Sometimes, I screamed in my sleep, and having a front-row audience was humiliating.

I closed my eyes, praying tonight wouldn't be one of those nights. I had missed too much sleep already to wake myself up with my own screams again. I counted in my head, as I did every night, until my brain finally stopped looping, until everything disappeared.

One, two, three, four, five... Twenty-one... Thirty-five... Sixty.

Darkness.