Page 1 of Madness Blooms

Chapter

One

HER

Ibid my coworkers farewell as I exit the mall and step into the parking lot. It’s late, around 10 PM, and I need to hurry home to check on my younger brother, Austin. Despite him being fifteen, I have to babysit him tonight because Mom is working the third shift. It’s my responsibility to make sure he’s not blowing off his homework again. The only upside is that it’s Friday, and I have Saturdays off.

I shiver, my teeth chattering as I pull my jacket tighter around me. It’s late April, but the nighttime temperatures haven’t warmed up yet—at least not to my liking. In an alternate reality, I would be attending college in sunny California instead of being stuck in this frigid, remote town in Vermont. Chewing on my bitterness, I reach into my bag to retrieve my Discman and put in my earbuds, losing myself in Hole’s new album.

Courtney’s gritty vocals keep me company as I cross the street. Humming along to Violet, I make my way down the sidewalk, feeling reckless tonight despite a creeping sense of unease. Cars whiz past, creating a sense of security. I’ve always seen myself as plain, not one to stick out. Even though I have a secret desire to dye my brown hair a wild color and wear spikes every day.

I’m too boring, too unremarkable to be a target.

Several murders have occurred in the surrounding towns in the past year, with the most recent one just over a month ago. According to the nightly news, the connection between the killings is still unclear. But the police are not ruling out the possibility.

During my shifts at Angelo’s, I often overhear people discussing the murders and exchanging theories like amateur sleuths, desperate for the answers the police could not provide. The community is on edge like they fear a lunatic will roll into town and make us his next target.

I scoff at the idea that anyone would give enough of a shit about Ashburn.

Another song starts, and I bob my head to the beat. I glimpse into an abandoned storefront as I pass by, noticing the old Christmas decorations that no one bothered to take down. The graffiti on the brick exterior further contributes to the decrepit appearance of the place. Bumfuck shithole indeed. On the bright side, at least the little diner nearby is still in business.

The employees of Mackay’s are inside, busy cleaning the floors and tending to the register. Mom is well-acquainted with the owner’s son, James, perhaps even too well. They were close friends in high school, and I suspect that their relationship was more than just platonic even back then. After Dad passed away, she began frequenting the diner, and we would receive discounts on food. I think James felt sorry for us; Mom’s scatterbrained nature makes it hard for her to hold down a steady job for very long.

In her defense, though, Ashburn is not exactly a thriving metropolis of employment.

My stomach rumbles, and I realize I forgot to eat my lunch again. Not that I could afford to get lunch in the first place; I’m not exactly rolling in cash right now. My friend, Kyla Madison, is always offering to pay for me, but I’m too stubborn—and prideful—to accept her generosity. Ignoring the hunger pangs, I round the corner and cross the road. Businesses turn into tightly packed homes, but my house is still far away.

I take a shortcut instead of my usual route, heading down a cracked sidewalk in desperate need of repairs. The lights in the surrounding buildings start to blink off, as expected at this late hour. I gasp as I catch a glimpse of something darting into the bushes, and yank out one of my earbuds, my heart pounding.

It’s probably nothing, just an animal.

I force myself to keep going. Leaves rustle in the breeze. Branches groan and crack, almost imperceptibly at first. Then it happens again. And again. Then once more.

And this time, even closer.

My breath hitches, a shiver crawling up my spine.Stay calm. There’s nothing to worry about.

The piercing crunch of dry grass has me feeling like I’m swallowing glass. I freeze and inhale an uneven breath.You’re just being paranoid, Grace. I stop the music and put my Discman back in my bag.Chill out. Grasping the bag strap with trembling fingers, I take a cautious step forward, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The only thing separating me from my path to the cul-de-sac is a deserted parking lot, where a small shopping center used to be.

I fix my eyes on the Super Mega Dollar across the mostly empty sprawl of concrete as I increase my pace, my breathing quickening with each step. As light refracts on the glass pane to my right, I swear I see a shadow moving among the unkempt shrubbery behind me. I dash down the pavement, my heart racing as I round the corner—before shrieking as I come to a sudden stop.

A tall, hooded figure in all black with a bizarre white mask stands before me, blocking my path.

I’m seconds from opening my mouth when I see it: a shiny blade in his hand, with something sticky coating the edge.Is that … blood?!Slowly, I back away—before spinning on my heel and bolting toward the Dollar Store.

I run as fast as I can, my legs pumping as I sprint toward the store. The figure gives chase, causing my stomach to bottom out in terror. The thought crosses my mind that I might die—or worse. I can already imagine the headlines tomorrow:Dumbass Girl Chopped to Pieces Because She Was Too Lazy to Take the Long Way Home. They’ll probably use my terrible high school graduation photo too, the one with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face.

I want to vomit.

I run past an abandoned car, and the footsteps fade away. I steal a glance over my shoulder, finding my pursuer has disappeared. But before I can feel any sense of relief, I trip over a curb and pitch forward. I flail, my elbows smacking into the ground as I drop. My ankle twists and pain shoots straight into my brain like zaps of lightning. Tears well in my eyes and I feel my skin go slick and clammy from the pain. The world spins around me and I cough, the air punched out of my lungs.

Come on, come on—get up!

Gasping for air, I try to push myself up, but the weight of my bag presses against my tender side. Wincing in pain, I glance down at my jacket and notice a jagged chunk of concrete has torn the sleeve. But the cost of replacing it is the least of my concerns when there’s a spectral nightmare lurking nearby, armed and ready to end my life.

“Please, God,” I say out loud as I fight to stand up, “if I get through this, I promise to go to church every Sunday. I’ll even stop cursing your name when I—fucking hell!” The masked stranger reappears like a terror in the night, giving me the motivation to jump to my feet and take off running. Just a couple of blocks away is my neighborhood, where I might find safety.

Adrenaline courses in my veins as pain lances through me. I sprint across the lot, my heart pounding, racing past the Dollar Store and cutting through an alley. Flickering light poles cast an eerie glow as I emerge onto a quiet street. Despite my burning lungs, I grit my teeth and push forward. I know I need to rest, but I can’t risk even a glimpse behind me.

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