Chapter 27 Dove #2
I glance around the cafe, trying to force myself to breathe normally again. The sounds of laughter, the clinking of mugs, the warm hum of conversation—everything seems normal. But that feeling, that heavy, suffocating feeling, lingers on the edges of my mind.
“Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” I murmur, mostly to myself. But Christina’s not convinced.
“Look, I know you’re scared. I know this whole thing with Ashton has messed with your head, but you need to let it go. He’s not watching you, Dove. You’re safe. You’re home.”
Her words are soothing, but my mind still spins. As much as I want to believe her, the fear festers deep inside me, like a wound that won’t heal. What if he’s still out there? What if Ashton hasn’t let me go at all?
But I nod, trying to silence the voice in my head that insists something’s wrong.
“Okay. Okay, you’re right.”
She smiles, but there’s a softness in her eyes. “It’s okay to not be okay, Dove. You’ve been through a lot, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, okay?”
I nod again, but I don’t feel like I’m truly here. My mind is still somewhere else, trapped in the fear and confusion Ashton left behind. I want to believe I’m safe. I want to feel normal again.
But as the door jingles behind us, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end once more.
Someone’s watching me. I don’t know who. I don’t know why. But I feel it, deep in my bones.
And I can’t shake the feeling that, somehow, Ashton’s still here.
Christina continues talking, her words floating around me, but I can’t focus. I can’t stop the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. The bell above the door jingles again, and I snap my head toward the sound, my heart thudding in my chest.
Just the wind, I tell myself. It’s nothing. But the instinct to check lingers—this irrational pull to verify that no one is watching me, no one is lurking just out of sight.
“Dove?” Christina’s voice brings me back, her tone tinged with concern. “You good?”
I nod quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… just a little tired. I think maybe I should head home, get some rest.”
Christina studies me for a moment, and I know she’s not buying it. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she places a hand on mine, her touch warm and grounding. “Hey, I’m here. If you need me, you know where to find me, right?”
I nod again, the corners of my lips tugging upward for the briefest moment. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Chris.”
But as she moves to stand, I catch sight of something outside the window. A figure, standing just across the street, barely visible through the slight fog that’s rolled in. It’s hard to make out details, but I swear I see a familiar silhouette—tall, broad-shouldered. My heart jumps in my chest.
I blink, willing my eyes to clear. The figure’s gone.
“Dove?” Christina’s voice softens, drawing me back to her. “What’s wrong?”
I turn back to her quickly, trying to shake the fear from my system. “Nothing. I’m just… maybe I need some air. I’ll be okay, really.”
She watches me closely for a moment, then, seeing my resolve, nods. “Alright. But let’s go home. You’re scaring me a little with the way you’re acting.”
I nod, grateful for her concern, even though my mind is still somewhere else, lost in the unsettling thoughts that swirl around me. We both stand and walk toward the door, but before I can open it, I glance one more time toward the spot across the street.
Nothing.
It’s clear now, as though whatever I thought I saw was just the trick of my mind.
Still, the unease doesn’t fade. As we step outside, the crisp air of the early evening feels heavier somehow, the world more vivid and sharp, as if my senses are on high alert.
The scent of pine from a nearby tree mingles with the last remnants of coffee on my tongue, and I draw in a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.
“So,” Christina says, clearly trying to make light of the situation, “Christmas shopping?”
I nod, but my mind’s not on Christmas lists or cookies or lights twinkling in the windows. It’s somewhere darker. Somewhere I don’t want to be.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” I murmur, though I’m not sure if I’m just saying the words because I know that’s what she expects.
We walk together through the town, the chilly air biting against our skin.
The streets are quiet, the occasional car passing by, the soft hum of distant chatter.
Hollow Hills is peaceful, picturesque even, like something out of a Hallmark movie.
But the serenity only serves to highlight the turmoil inside me, the chaos that I can’t seem to escape.
As we pass by a storefront, I glance inside and catch a fleeting image in the window—a dark shape, just out of focus. My heart skips a beat. There it is again.
I feel Christina’s hand slip into mine, her grip reassuring, grounding. “Dove, you’re doing it again. What’s going on? You’re not here. Where’s your head?”
I shake my head, swallowing down the knot in my throat. “I don’t know. I’m just… I’m not sure what’s real anymore.”
She sighs, pulling me closer. “We’ll get through this, okay? You’re not alone. You’re safe.
I don’t know if I believe her. I want to, more than anything. But this feeling, this sense that something is wrong, that something’s closing in on me, won’t let go.
We round a corner, and I glance over my shoulder once more, certain I saw something move in the shadows. A flicker of movement.
But when I turn around to look, it’s gone again.
It’s all in your head, Dove, I tell myself. Stop being paranoid.
But even as the thought settles, it doesn’t bring me peace. Instead, I feel colder. More exposed.
As we continue down the sidewalk, my heart rate doesn’t seem to slow. Christina chatters on about everything and nothing—Christmas plans, New Year’s resolutions, the inevitable chaos of the upcoming holiday season—but her words fade into the background as my mind drifts.
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
The small town of Hollow Hills, with its postcard charm, feels too perfect.
The streets are lined with quaint little shops, their windows glowing warmly in the late afternoon light, and wreaths hang from every lamp post. The smell of pine and cinnamon seems to linger in the air, making everything feel a little too cozy, a little too perfect. Too… safe.
And yet, that’s exactly what doesn’t sit right with me. The world around me feels wrong. Like everything is in its place, except for me.
Christina laughs at something I barely hear, and I force a smile, nodding along. “Mm-hmm, yeah,” I mutter, but I can’t focus on her words. I can’t focus on anything except that horrible sensation of being watched.
It’s like something is crawling under my skin, prickling at the back of my neck. My eyes flicker to every passerby, scanning faces, but they’re all strangers. Ordinary. Normal. So why do I feel like someone is following me?
“You okay?” Christina’s voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts. She’s studying me closely, the same concern from earlier creeping back into her expression.
I blink, then force myself to meet her gaze. “Yeah. Just… tired. Maybe I’m not used to being out anymore.”
Christina raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press. “You’re not fooling me, Dove. You look like you’re about to explode.”
I chuckle weakly, rubbing my eyes. “Sorry. I just… I keep thinking I see things.”
“Things? What kind of things?”
I hesitate, the words lodged in my throat, but Christina’s face softens, and I realize that I don’t want to hide it from her anymore.
“I don’t know. It’s just… this feeling. That someone’s watching me.” The words come out in a rush, the confession tumbling out before I can stop it.
Christina’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean? Like, someone is following you?”
“I don’t know.” My voice cracks, and I curse under my breath. “I keep seeing shadows. Shapes, people—nothing that makes sense. It’s like I’m losing my mind, Chris.”
She grabs my hand, squeezing it firmly, as though trying to ground me. “Dove, you’ve been through a lot. It’s normal to feel like your head is all over the place.”
I nod, but my mind is elsewhere. My heart is still pounding in my chest, every flicker of movement in the corner of my eye setting me on edge.
We keep walking, the quaint shops of Hollow Hills whizzing past us as I lose myself in the rhythmic sound of our footsteps on the snow-dusted sidewalks.
Christmas lights twinkle in the trees lining the streets, casting a warm, inviting glow against the cold winter night.
But the beauty of it all seems distant to me, like it’s happening in a world I no longer belong to.
As we approach the park, the wind picks up, and the chill in the air bites through my jacket. I pull my coat tighter around myself, glancing down the road.
That feeling is back.
A faint noise, almost like footsteps—distant, but not far enough to be comfortable—cuts through the quiet.
I stop walking, my body rigid.
“Dove?” Christina’s voice sounds far away, like I’m submerged in water. I turn toward her, but I don’t say anything. My eyes are locked on something in the distance, and my heart slams in my chest.
There, standing under the bare branches of a tree by the streetlamp, is a figure. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Cloaked in shadows. I can’t make out the face, but I don’t need to. I know that silhouette.
I freeze, a chill running down my spine.
“Dove, what’s wrong?” Christina’s voice breaks through my haze, but I barely register her words. My eyes are fixed on the spot where the figure stood, and it’s gone. Vanished, like smoke in the night air.
“Did you—?” I whisper, my voice trembling, but when I turn to Christina, I see that she’s completely unaware.
“What? What is it?” She follows my gaze, scanning the street, but there’s nothing there. Just the soft glow of the streetlights casting long shadows against the quiet town.
“I… I thought I saw someone,” I say, my voice distant. “Someone I knew.”
Christina frowns, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she pulls me gently by the arm, urging me to keep walking. “You’re freaking yourself out. Let’s go home, Dove. You’ve had a long day.”
But I don’t feel any better. I don’t feel safe.
As we walk in silence, I try to shake the unease, but I can’t.
I don’t know if it’s Ashton or if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. But either way, I don’t feel like I’m alone.