Page 9 of Date Night

"Have you eaten today? You want to go get some food?" He asks.

Once again, I'm not sure what his intentions are, and I don't have time for any dating.

"Nah, I think I'm just going to head home and get some sleep. We've got a big day again tomorrow." I shrug and side step him.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Well, get home safe. I'm just going to shut down my equipment. I'll lock up." He nods and I give him a tight smile.

I'm grateful to see there is no one outside waiting for me this time when I leave the library. Maybe the townsfolk just needed me to know they were unhappy with what I'm doing and that was the end of it. I can only hope.

The drive back to my rental house is short but long all in the same. All I want is to get in the bed and close my eyes.

As I pull into the driveway of my rental house, the familiar weight of exhaustion settles on my shoulders. The day has drained me, both emotionally and physically. I just want tocollapse into bed and shut the world out for a while. But as I step out of the car, I notice a group of young adults standing on the other side of the street, their laughter piercing the quiet of the night.

They’re college-aged, maybe a little older, and the sight of them sends a shiver down my spine. My heart races when I spot one of the boys among them—the same one I saw during the near-riot the other day. His face is familiar, and as our eyes lock, I feel a chill creep through me. He doesn’t say anything, just stares, and the intensity of his gaze makes me uneasy.

I try to shake it off, forcing myself to move toward the house, but I can’t help glancing back. The group is loud, their drunken state apparent as they joke and shove each other, carefree and reckless. It’s a stark contrast to the weight of the day I’ve just had.

Inside the house, I lock the door behind me and lean against it for a moment, trying to steady my breath. I can still hear their laughter echoing outside, a cacophony that wraps around me like a heavy blanket. I head to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the day and the unsettling feeling that’s settled in my gut.

But the rowdiness outside only grows louder, a relentless tide of noise that seeps through the walls. I can’t escape it. As I brush my teeth, I catch snippets of their conversation, wild and uninhibited. It’s all harmless fun—until I hear someone yell, “I hope you’re proud of what you’re doing to the town!”

The comment is sharp, aimed directly at me, and it lingers in the air like a bitter aftertaste. My heart drops. I know that was meant for me, a reminder of the tension swirling in this community, a reminder of my role in it. I spit out the toothpaste and rinse my mouth, trying to ignore the prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

I force myself to focus on getting ready for bed, but every rustle outside sends my pulse racing. I pull on my pajamas, the fabric feeling too tight against my skin, like a reminder of the weight pressing down on me. I try to drown out the noise, but their laughter transforms into a haunting echo, amplifying my own anxiety.

I can’t shake the feeling that they’re still watching me, waiting for something. I draw the curtains tight, shutting out the view of the street, but it doesn’t lessen the tension in the air. I crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, hoping to find some semblance of safety within their fabric.

But sleep won’t come. The group outside continues their raucous revelry, and I can’t help but listen, my heart racing with each shout and laugh. I know I should just ignore them, but the sense of dread tightens in my chest. What if they decide to come over? What if they take their anger out on me?

As I lie there, staring at the ceiling, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning. The town is on edge, and so am I.

I roll over in the bed, doing some deep breathing techniques trying to get my brain to settle down. It's no use.

No matter how much I try to clean up the old house the lingering musty unused smell doesn't go away. On top of that It feels like the heat isn't working. I'm cold. All the windows are closed up tight but no matter how much I try I just can't seem to get warm.

Grabbing the blanket my mother quilted for me I wrap it around my body and try to snuggle in.

The peace it brings me only lasts a few seconds until I hear it.

*Tap, Tap, Tap*

My eyes spring open and I turn my head in the direction of the sound. It's not coming from the door but the side of the house.

The sound seems to echo in the nearly bare house.

My heart races and I wait to see what's going to happen next. I'm not home or even in a town that I trust. I could say this town is safe but I'm here to investigate the story of a never caught serial killer. This place knows some danger.

I hesitate, my breath catching as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The darkness feels thicker now, wrapping around me like a shroud. I move to the window, pulling back the curtain just enough to peek outside, but I can’t see a thing, just an inky blackness that swallows everything whole.

The laughter from the group across the street still carries through the night, their voices a cacophony of drunken revelry. I tell myself it’s just one of them, probably that boy from the protest. The realization hits me with a sickening twist: he’s one of the victim’s brothers. My stomach churns at the thought, a mix of guilt and anger rising within me.

How dare he come here, trying to terrorize me here where I'm staying? The audacity makes my blood boil, but I know confronting them is a dangerous gamble. I can’t let them see my fear.

I draw the curtains tighter, shutting out the darkness, but the feeling of being watched creeps in, clawing at my insides. It’s as if the shadows outside are alive, their presence pressing against the glass, waiting for me to make a move. I back away, my heart racing, trying to calm the frantic thoughts swirling in my mind.

What if they know I’m here? What if they come for me? I push the panic down, forcing myself to breathe slowly, but it’s hard when every sound outside feels amplified, like a drumbeat echoing in my ears.

I glance at the clock—2:13 AM. The world outside should be quiet, but the laughter continues, mingling with the tapping that refuses to stop. I can’t shake the feeling that they’re toying with me, testing my resolve.

---