Page 15 of Devotion

She looks so hopeful.

“Fine,” I answer with a hard eye roll, but they don’t care as they celebrate having effectively broken me down.

Layla: A friend’s engagement party’s coming up in a few weeks. Want to be my plus one?

My phone chimes with surprising speed.

Det. Diego M: Of course. Just shoot me the date. I’ll be there.

“What’d he say?”

I peer up to meet Isha’s gaze. “He’s coming.”

“See! That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, we get to finally meet him and decide whether he’s good enough for our girl.”

I fake a smile, and as they move on to a new topic, I zone out, focusing my stare out the window. It isn’t long before my thoughts are on last night again, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Simply at the thought of how something completely imagined could feel so real to me.

In a way, considering family history, consideringmyhistory… it’s pretty fucking terrifying.

Cars pass, and I’m in a daze, watching the street light cycle from green, to yellow, to red on repeat. It’s like the world’s moving in slow motion as I fall into what feels like a trance as all sound fades away.

Then, there’s onlyhim.

A dark figure stands across the street, hands tucked inside his pockets, resting his shoulder against a street sign. I swear he’s staring straight at me. The dark hoodie over his head blocks any chance I’d have to see his face, but I can…feelhim.

I swallow deeply, contemplating whether I should run out there, see if what IthinkI’m seeing is real, but that’d be crazy. It’s not normal to feel compelled to chase after strangers because you thinkthey’re watching you.

A bus breezes past the street sign and, just like that, the figure’s gone. Simply not there anymore. It’s as though it never was, and now I’m worried, wondering if this is yet another delusion, another instance of my mind not being able to tell what’s real. Or maybe I’m just exhausted and need to rest.

With shaky hands, I reach for my phone, pretending to check a text.

“Shit. That’s work. I need to take off.”

“Oh no! We didn’t even get a chance to order drinks,” Dove whines.

I stand, adjusting my purse over my shoulder. “I know. Next time, I promise I’ll turn my phone off, so we’re not interrupted, but I should go.”

I scoot my chair in and lean down to hug them one at a time.

“I’ll bet this is about that fucking Widowmaker case, isn’t it?” Isha says, scrunching her nose with the words.

“You know I’m not allowed to discuss shit like that,” I say with a laugh, pretending to be lighthearted about it, when all I really want is to get home. “I’ll catch up with you guys soon.”

They all groan their goodbyes, obviously disappointed by my abrupt exit, but not even the pang of guilt that hits is enough to slow me down.

I burst through the exit, feeling like I’d suffocate if I sat inside that building a second longer. But now that I’m out here, breathing in fresh air, I can only think of one thing.

My head whips in every direction, hoping to see the hooded man again, but he isn’t here. He might not haveeverbeen here.

“Shit, I’m losing it.” The panic in my voice alarms me even more, and I pick up the pace, walking twice as fast to my car now.

I’m just tired.

I’ll be fine if I can just get home and rest, take my meds.

I’m not becoming her.

I’m not becoming… my mother.

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