Page 10 of Hunted to the Altar
Nina
The first thingI noticed when I woke up was the smell—faint, but unmistakable. Smoke. Not the sharp, acrid stench of something burning, but the lingering, cloying aroma of cigarette smoke. It clung to the air, to the blankets wrapped around me, even to the pillow beneath my head. There was a strange taste in my mouth. Maybe I was getting sick. My brow furrowed as I sat up, glancing around the dimly lit room.
Something was off. I went to my dresser to take my bonnet off and throw my hair up into a messy bun.
Where the fuck was my hair tie?
It wasn’t like this was the only hair tie I had in the house. It was just the oldest, so it stretched out the most, which made it easier to throw my shoulder length curls into a big bun on top of my head.
I locked the windows last night. I always did. And yet, the scent was there, wrapping around me like a warning. Tobaccomixed with a hint of manliness. Since I didn’t smoke, I knew something was wrong. My stomach churned as I slid out of bed, the hardwood floor cool against my bare feet. The silence in the apartment was deafening. Every creak of the floorboards under my weight amplified in the stillness.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I stepped into the living room. It looked the same as I’d left it the night before: the throw blanket folded neatly over the arm of the couch, my book on the coffee table, spine up to mark the page I’d stopped at. But as I moved closer, I realized something was different. The blanket wasn’t folded the way I usually did it. The edges weren’t lined up perfectly. And the book…the book had been closed.
My pulse quickened, my hands trembling as I reached for the book. It was a small thing, easy to dismiss as forgetfulness. Maybe I closed it last night without thinking. Maybe I hadn’t folded the blanket as neatly as I thought. But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind.
The air in the room felt wrong, heavy and charged, as though someone had been here—someone who didn’t belong.
I shook my head, trying to dispel the paranoia creeping in. This was just the aftermath of a nightmare. That had to be it. My mind was playing tricks on me again, dredging up ghosts from the past to haunt my present.
Still, as I moved to the kitchen, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. My gaze darted to the window, half-expecting to see a shadow lingering there, but there was nothing—just the faint gray light of early morning filtering through the curtains. There was a strange taste in the back of my mouth, eye crust on my cheeks, I must’ve slept harder than I thought. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap.
I drank quickly, keeping an eye out. Seeing nothing out ofthe ordinary, I left the glass in the sink and headed back to my room. This paranoia needed to go.
By the time I was dressed and ready to leave, the unease had settled deep in my chest, refusing to budge. I double-checked the locks on the door before stepping out, my bag slung over my shoulder. The corridor outside my apartment was quiet, but I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder as I made my way down the stairs.
It wasn’t just the apartment. It was me. I didn’t feel safe anywhere anymore.
The shelter was busy, as it always was. The hum of activity should have been comforting, a reminder that I wasn’t alone. But today, it only heightened my anxiety. Every sound seemed louder, every movement sharper. I felt eyes on me constantly, even when I was sure no one was looking.
“Nina? Are you okay?”
I flinched at the sound of Karen’s voice, turning to see her watching me with concern. She was one of the shelter’s coordinators, a kind woman with a no-nonsense attitude and a sharp eye for detail. I forced a smile, trying to hide the unease that was threatening to swallow me whole.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Just didn’t sleep well last night.”
She frowned, her gaze flicking over me as though searching for cracks in the facade. “If you need to take a break, let me know. We’ve got plenty of people here to cover for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, already turning away. “But I’m fine.”
Fine. That was the lie I told everyone, including myself. I was anything but fine. Every step I took felt like I was walking on a tightrope, teetering on the edge of some unseen abyss. And the worst part was, I didn’t even know what I was afraid of.
Most of my day at the shelter was spent doing what I always did: mundane, ordinary tasks that made me feel like I was doing something good in the world. I sorted through boxes of donatedclothes, separating the wearable items from those that needed to be recycled. I prepared meals in the small kitchen, putting them on trays for the families who came here seeking a haven. And I listened. More than anything, I listened.
People came here to escape their own nightmares, to find a moment of peace in a world that had been unkind to them. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for a long time, it had been enough for me, too. There was a quiet comfort in the routine, in knowing that I was helping, even in the smallest ways.
“Hey, Nina,” Lisa called from across the room, waving me over. She was one of the newer volunteers, her bright smile and easygoing demeanor a welcome presence on even the hardest days. “Can you help me with this?”
I nodded, crossing the room to join her. She was struggling to lift a heavy box onto one shelf in the storage room. Together, we hoisted it into place, the effort leaving us both a little breathless.
“Thanks,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve been a lifesaver today.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” I said, forcing a smile.
But Lisa wasn’t fooled. She tilted her head, her gaze narrowing as she studied me. “You’ve been zoning out a lot today. Is everything okay?”
I hesitated, unsure how to respond. “I’m just tired,” I said finally, my voice quieter than I intended. “It’s been a long week.”
“Tired or distracted?” she pressed, her tone light but probing. “You’re usually so on top of things, but today… I don’t know. You seem…” She trailed off, searching for the right word.
