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Ghouls and goblins didn’t scare her anymore. Cheap, plastic costumes and boo scares were empty, hollow. They didn’t phase her, they didn’t even affect her.
It was the dark and the crowds gathering in it. It was the mayhem, the chaos; she so easily became lost amongst the mob. It was the shadows stretching around the corner, and the rustling that she couldn’t distinguish as leaves or clothes. It wasn’t the coolness of the wind that sent chills down her spine, but the prickling sensation at the nape of her neck; the thought that someone was watching her.
Made-up faces and make believe games ran amok. Children cackled and shrieked; adults joined in for the fun of it. Toilet paper and candy in every bag; jack-o-lanterns grinned and glowed.
It felt like they were mocking her, jeering her; the wind was pushing at her, the leaves beckoned and the half bare branches pointed ahead.
She wanted to turn around. She wanted to turn and run; search for familiar faces amid all the masks. She desperately wanted someone to take her hand and lead her home, where she would be safe and warm.
But there was no such thing as home. There was no place that was warm and safe. There was nobody who cared anymore. There was a small apartment, a broken heater, and an empty bed. There were memories of a humid room, a cold shower; a cramped cage and three people fighting for her and for their own lives.
They were all gone.
One dead and broken. (His name was Ty, she had to remind herself. She didn't get the chance to know him, but she needed to remember him.)
One locked away behind bars. (Michael didn't bother to push for a lighter sentence. Part of him broke in that hotel; Kira thought maybe that was a good thing.)
One off on a crusade. (She tried not to let it hurt when Christine left for law school, determined to fight for other girls like them, like Christine's sister.)
Kira pulled her coat tighter around her body; hugging herself and fighting off all her little fears. She was alive; alive and too aware of all the ugly things that went on right under everyone’s noses. She watched her feet; watched every single step forward she took.
Super heroes and monsters and princesses brushed past her. Kids with empty stomachs and sweet teeth rushing for the next door; they ran away from where Kira went.
She wanted to turn and run with them. She wanted to watch her feet turn, take her away, far away; she wanted to watch her feet carry her back to that small space she slept in. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and her destination as possible.
Traveling to the opposite end of the country wouldn’t be far enough. She could run as far as she liked; eventually she’d just be heading to that Godforsaken place, only the back way.
Kira’s steps were slowing; she was going uphill at last. She watched as her pace slowed and slowed; watched as her feet came to a stop; her boots stayed still next to each other. No longer moving one in front of the other.
It wasn’t witches or werewolves, vampires or zombies that haunted her. Ghosts were after her; right behind her eyelids. She saw them every time her eyes closed. Spirits of the dead reawakening made her shiver and gooseflesh rise on her skin.
Kira lifted her gaze and stared straight ahead. From the top of the hill, in the usually quiet - save for tonight - neighborhood she was in, she could see the old, broken sign: Blackwell Hotel. It peaked just above some of the other buildings and skyscrapers in the city.
A shudder raced down her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her fingers curled and clenched around her arms; holding herself tighter.
The T was still missing. The building was exactly the same.
And the ninth floor lights were on.
Kira swore she saw a hulking frame in one of the windows. She swore she saw mismatched eyes staring at her even at such a distance. She swore she saw a hook on a chain, held by massive hands. She blinked, looked away, clenched her eyes shut.
He was gone when she looked again.
Just a trick of the light. Just a trick of the night.
Kira hated Halloween.