Page 2 of Lured By Shadows

“Are you enjoying the weather?” a voice called from behind me, breaking the silence and jolting me so hard I nearly lost my footing.

I spun around, gripping the railing. “Ma, seriously,” I said, my breath catching. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that.”

She giggled, folding her arms as she slipped into that familiar mom stance. “Sorry. Actually, no, I’m not. You should be more aware of your surroundings, Ira Grace.”

I crossed my arms, rubbing them for warmth even though it barely helped. “What’d ya need?”

She hesitated, and that pause always meant she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear. “I’m sorry we couldn’t bring your car.”

Of course it was the same routine. She picked her moment perfectly, catching me when exhaustion blurred everything and pulled old memories to the surface. That car wasn’t just a car. It tied me to home, a piece of Pa I still held onto.

“I already told you it’s fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “The school’s close by. I’ll be alright.” I cleared my throat and looked away, shifting the focus. “I’m just really tired. Jet lag’s hitting harder than I thought it would.”

She let out a soft laugh, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Now you know. Go get some rest since you’ve got an early morning.”

“I’m guessing I won’t see you before I leave?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be gone, but I’ll leave some yogurt in the fridge.”

Without another word, she signed "I love you" in ASL. She always did it the same way, quick at first, then softer the second time, as though she needed to make sure I felt it. I signed it back, something warm flickering in my chest even as the cold settled deeper into my skin. Then she stepped inside, leaving me alone again with the wind and the dark.

I stayed out on the balcony a little longer, but the chill cut straight through my sweater and left my fingers numb. The night felt heavy and too quiet, as though the woods below were holding their breath. I shook off the uneasy prickle creeping up my spine, the strange pull that made it feel as though something unseen was watching from the dark, and turned away from the railing. I almost looked back, convinced for a second I’d hear something move, but the woods remained still. I needed to stop thinking that way. Whatever was happening in the U.S. before I left wasn’t happening here.

The exhaustion settled deeper than the long day alone, twisting low in my stomach and pressing against my chest.

The room felt smaller when I stepped back inside. Its plain walls and bare corners carried the sense of not quite belonging yet; everything was still packed away or shoved aside in a rush. I knew adjusting to my new life wouldn’t happen overnight, probably not even after weeks of forcing myself through it. Still, somewhere inside me, I held onto the hope that eventually things would settle. One day I’d wake up without feeling as though I was wearing a life that didn’t quite fit. That quiet hope kept me from falling apart completely as I kicked off my shoes, slipped beneath the covers, stared at the blank ceiling, and finally let sleep take me.

***

“I used to shine bright like gold—”

The alarm shrieked from my phone, slicing through the darkness beneath my blankets.

I groaned, slapping a hand over the screen to silence it. “Shut up,” I muttered, curling tighter as though that might keep the morning at bay. For a moment, I let myself pretend there was nowhere I needed to be. Eventually, I rubbed my nose and forced myself upright, stiff and sluggish, as though I’d dragged myself out of a grave.

Getting dressed took longer than I wanted. Half my clothes were still crammed into boxes, and digging through them drained what little energy I had left. I managed the basics anyway, throwing something together and doing just enough with my makeup to pass. My vape and phone were the real essentials. As long as I had those, I could get through whatever the day decided to throw at me.

After swiping on some gloss, I leaned closer to the mirror and took a slow pull from my vape. The strawberry flavor hit sweet as the vapor curled lazily above my head, brushing the glass before fading away. I watched it disappear, then ran my fingers through my caramel hair one more time, convincing myself I looked put together enough. At least my eyeliner looked decent. If I was going to embarrass myself internationally, I wanted to look hot doing it.

Even if my gut disagreed.

I downed the yogurt Ma had left, grabbed my bag, and rushed out the door, tugging my hood halfway up. A fine mist clung to my coat as I hurried down the smooth pavement toward the curb, the air thick with damp earth and wet asphalt. Cars passed by, sending water spraying from puddles; everything was moving opposite from what I was used to and forcing me to double-check before crossing. Being in England wasn’t just about accents or different snacks. It flipped everything around, turning something as simple as getting to class into an adjustment I wasn’t ready for.

The rain had come overnight, just as I had predicted, leaving the sky heavy with low gray clouds that refused to lift, a few lingering drops still hanging in the air. My jacket wasn’t exactly made for this weather, but I’d rushed packing and figured I’d pick up something better later. The jet lag, the unpacked boxes, and the effort of pretending everything was fine had been pushed aside for now.

I stepped over a wide puddle stretching across the sidewalk. Avoiding them had already become part of my routine, the small jumps offering a brief distraction from the steady walk toward what I’d started thinking of as lockdown central, the college that felt more like confinement than a fresh start. Music played softly through my earbuds, helping me settle as I prepared myself for the day ahead.

A sudden chill traced up the back of my neck, strong enough to make me glance over my shoulder before brushing it off as jet lag messing with me.

Then a sleek black-and-crimson motorcycle tore past, its engine cutting through the quiet drizzle with a deep, commanding sound that pulled me straight out of my thoughts. I paused, caught off guard by how striking it looked and the way it gripped the wet road. I shifted slightly to the rhythm of the music, stealing one more glance to take it in.

Then it stopped.

Not gradually, either. One second it was rushing past, and the next it had come to a complete halt right at the curb behind me. The engine idled with a low, steady hum, exhaust curling into the mist around us. I slowed without meaning to, my earbuds slipping out as the music faded beneath the tension settling over the street.

Even under the dull gray sky, the bike stood out, and I found myself wondering about the person riding it through all of this, moving as though the weather didn’t touch them at all.

My stomach tightened as the rider turned smoothly, something instinctive locking my body in place while my thoughts struggled to keep up. The motorcycle blocked the lane completely. Cars were swerving around it while horns blared through the rain, but none of that noise seemed to matter.