~~
*knock* *knock* *knock*
The sound rattled through the silence, dragging me out of sleep. My eyes shot open. For a moment, I didn't move—just lay there, staring at the ceiling, heart already picking up pace.
More knocking.
I didn't budge. Whoever it was, I hoped they'd just go away. I stayed curled up in bed, holding my breath.
Five minutes passed.
Nothing.
Ten.
Still nothing.
Maybe they gave up.
I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, my limbs stiff from the awkward way I'd passed out. I swung my legs off the mattress, stood—
*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
Louder this time. Firmer.
My breath caught.
I froze.
They were still out there.
Reluctantly, I crept toward the door, quiet as I could, heart thudding against my ribs. A dozen thoughts raced through my head.
Is it the men from last night?
No… I took the alleyways. There's no way they could've followed me.
Then who?
My hand hovered over the knob. I leaned in and slowly cracked the door open—just enough to peek outside.
Standing in front of me was the weird old man I had talked to the other day.
Him.
Without thinking, I tried to slam the door shut, but he was faster. A clean white sneaker wedged itself between the frame, stopping it cold.
"Oh come on, kiddo," he said, tilting his head with that same smug calm. "Is that how you treat guests?"
His tone was light, playful even—but that scolding look on his face made it worse.
This guy again.
****************************************************************
"Well isn't this quiet a nice place" He tries to make small talk as he sits down on one of the dust collecting couches looking around.
I sat across from him in another chair near the door watching him. He still seemed so out of place..
I shifted in my seat, uneasy. Just having him here felt invasive. This was my space. My one place where I didn't have to explain anything. And now he was sitting in it, making himself at home.
He hadn't said much yet, but I could see it coming—questions he wasn't asking out loud. Ones I had no intention of answering.
He was already in the middle of the one part of my life I kept to myself. He didn't need anything more.
"How did you find out where I live?" I asked, keeping my voice steady as I watched him take in the question.
"I followed you, of course," he said casually—like he hadn't just said something completely insane. He even looked pleased with himself, that same eager, harmless smile stretched across his face.
He followed me.
My mind flashed back to last night—our sudden encounter, the moment I turned and ran. That's when he must've done it. When I thought I was shaking him, he was tailing me the whole way home.
A dumb mistake. One I had no excuse for.
I've lived here my entire life. Cutting through the alleyways is like second nature. And I let him—a complete stranger, a lunatic—follow me without even noticing?
Stupid, stupid, Erin… How could you be so damn careless?
My fists clenched tightly in my lap, knuckles white. I stared down at them, trying to will away the heat crawling up my neck. Shame and anger tangled in my chest like a knot.
Then, for just a second, I looked up—and we locked eyes.
'You digusting pice of shi—'
The thought hit me out of nowhere, sharp and cold. My gaze dropped immediately, locking back onto my fists, now trembling slightly I.didn't even realize I was shaking until I saw the tension ripple through my fingers.
I clenched them again—tighter this time, trying to ground myself. Trying to push the thought back down.
Calm down Erin, this isnt the time for that
I took a slow, deliberate breath. Inhale. Exhale. The shaking began to ease, little by little. When I finally looked back up at him, I avoided his eyes. I focused on everything else—the crease of his jacket, the twitch in his brow, the faint scuff on his shoe.
"Why?" I asked at last, my voice low but steady. "Why did you even come here?"
"To convince you to come with me, of course," he replied without hesitation. His tone was light, but his eyes—still locked on me—held something else. Worry. Or maybe something worse. I couldn't tell.
"But why?" I pressed, frowning. "There's no reason for you to do that."
"No reason?" he said, shaking his head. "Kid, there's no way I could just leave you here after seeing the way you pitched yesterday. I've seen plenty of kids throw a ball, but the way you pitch—it reminded me too much of myself. You have way to much talent to be stuck in this place"
I stayed silent. Letting him talk. Letingt him hear the sound of his own voice until it burned out.
He looked around the room again, but this time, his gaze softened a little—less judgmental, more… careful.
"I'd like to ask how you've been living, but I know I've already crossed a line—following you home and sitting in your place like this."
"But I don't regret what I did, especially after seeing you pitch." He fell silent for a moment, then stood up slowly. "I'll get out of your hair now."
He moved toward the door, turning back to face me one last time.
"Tomorrow… I'm heading back to the city. I'll be waiting for you at the baseball field where you had that game with those men. Please, just think about my offer. I hope to see you there.".
And the door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow felt louder than it should have.