Page 8 of Shadowed Fate

“Oh, look,” Stacy’s voice rings out now, deliberately loud, “it’s the freak.”

She starts laughing, and the rest of her group joins in. Her laughter isn't just mean. It's a performance, a ritual of belonging that requires my humiliation. It’s a reminder of every moment I didn't fit in, every snide comment, every side-eyed glance.

I know the script.

“Slag!” This time I recognize Braden’s voice. More laughing from their group.

Slut-shaming. How novel. My chest tightens. Not with anger—I'm beyond anger now. With a deep, aching loneliness that feels like it could swallow me whole.

I keep walking. I don’t even see them.

Just another moment of casual cruelty.

How utterly, mind-numbingly boring.

The evening light dims further, as if the world itself is turning away, not wanting to witness my humiliation.

Chapter 5

Brigid

I turn the corner, leaving Main Street behind. The bright lights and hum of town life fade, replaced by the soft whisper of leaves and the distant caw of crows returning to their roosts for the night.

The forest looms ahead, a wall of green and shadow. I step onto the familiar path leading home. It’s darker than I’d like. I spent too much time at the coffee shop, forgetting how fast the evening light fades at this time of year.

I'm about halfway when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Something's off. The forest has gone eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the breeze. My hand instinctively reaches for the knife in the pocket of my cardigan.

"Just paranoia," I tell myself, but my feet pick up their pace anyway.

A twig snaps behind me. My heart leaps into my throat. I glance over my shoulder, my blood turning to ice as I spot two men emerging from the shadows between the trees. Their eyes are fixed on me, predatory grins spreading across their faces.

I speed up, walking as fast as I can, and they match my pace. I break into a run, my oversized cardigan billowing behind me. The sound of heavy footsteps follows, growing closer with each passing second. My mind races, searching for an escape route. There are no houses around, no one to hear me call for help.

"Where are you running to, honey?" one of the men calls out.

I don't answer. I can't waste the breath. My lungs burn as I push myself harder, desperate to reach the safety of my cottage. I hear the thudding of footsteps gaining ground, and then they're in front of me, cutting off my escape. I recognize them now—Donal's friends. The taller one, Sean, leers at me, his gaze crawling over my body.

“What do you want?” I ask, my voice scratchy and too quiet. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.

"Brigid, Brigid, Brigid. There’s no need to run from us. We just want to have a good time. We can all have a real good time, the three of us, eh?”

“Donal said he'd share you with us," Mike sneers. "Told us you'd be up for a bit of fun."

I feel my body go cold. “I have to go. Donal’s waiting for me,” I lie.

The men laugh like I’ve told the funniest joke ever.

Sean catches his breath. “Who do you think told us you’d be walking home this way, you dumb slut.”

My fingers tighten around the knife in my pocket. Fear pulses through me, but it's quickly overshadowed by a burning anger. I'm so tired of this, of always being the one everyone thinks they can hurt.

"Fuck off," I say, flipping open the knife in my pocket with my thumb, then pulling it out. The blade reflects what little light there is left in the evening.

The shorter one, Mike, laughs. "What do you think you’re gonna do with that?"

They move closer, and I feel my back press against a tree. The rough bark digs into my skin through my thin khakis. Sean reaches for me, his meaty hand aiming for my wrist. I react instinctively, slashing the air in front of me. He jerks back with a yelp, a thin red line appearing on his cheek.

"You little bitch!" he snarls.

---