63. A Presence

Continued...

Thrill-seeking had taken me far enough for tonight. I wasn't foolish enough to keep going and test whether my newfound confidence would hold up against a mountain lion or a lurking predator.

With a deep breath, I turned back the way I came, the trees thinning out once more as my house came into view through the gaps in the branches.

It was strange. From my bedroom window, the woods always seemed like an impenetrable abyss, a curtain of darkness hiding whatever secrets it held. But standing here now, I could see my house so clearly, as if the forest had never been an obstacle at all.

Then—movement.

My breath hitched. My gaze snapped to the upper corner of my house, to my bedroom window.

The drapes billowed, caught in the wind's gentle grasp, but for a split second—just a fraction of a moment—I thought I saw something else.

Something moving.

No. That's impossible. No one else is home.

Heart hammering, I picked up my pace, stepping hastily out of the tree line for a better look. My pulse thundered in my ears as my mind scrambled for logic, but all I found was a sinking unease curling around my ribs.

It was nothing. Just my imagination. Just the curtains.

I exhaled heavily, leaning against the nearest tree. I still didn't want to go inside—not yet.

Civilization, structure, expectations—they all felt too suffocating. Out here, there were no expectations. No obligations. Just existence. Just the night breathing quietly around me.

A fallen tree trunk caught my eye, its surface worn smooth by time and the elements. It looked inviting, and without thinking, I let my body follow the urge, my legs folding as I sank onto it.

From here, I could see my bedroom clearly, almost like I was on the outside looking into my own life. If someone wanted to spy on me, this would be the perfect vantage point.

But no one does. No one's watching.

Right?

The air shifted.

A shiver traced down my spine, and suddenly, every hair on my body stood on end. My breath hitched as an unexplainable sensation coiled tight in my stomach.

Someone—something—was behind me.

I heard nothing. Saw nothing. No footsteps, no rustling, not even the break of a twig underfoot. But I felt it.

A presence. A weight in the air, thick and oppressive, pushing against me like unseen hands brushing against my skin.

The logical part of me screamed to run. To bolt for the house and lock the door behind me. But something else, something deep and treacherous, rooted me in place.

Curiosity? No, it was something darker than that. Something more dangerous.

A pull. I must be out of my mind.

I swallowed hard, my pulse roaring in my ears. Every nerve in my body demanded I stay still. That I not acknowledge it.

That I not give it the satisfaction of knowing I could feel it lingering in the shadows.

But I had to look. I had to know.

Slowly—agonizingly so—I turned my head, inch by inch, my peripheral vision stretching, searching.

Nothing.

I exhaled sharply, willing my heart to settle.

Had I imagined it? Had I let my mind get carried away in the dark? Maybe.

Or maybe not.

My body was starting to betray me. Exhaustion clawed at my limbs, and my shoulders sagged under the weight of the oversized jacket Leo had draped over me earlier.

Though the night air bit at my skin, I shrugged it off, letting the fabric slip from my shoulders and pool beside me.

I barely felt the cold.

My eyelids grew heavy, my limbs sluggish. As reckless as it was, as stupid as it might be, I curled up atop the tree trunk, letting my body mold into the rough surface.

The last thing I thought before the darkness finally pulled me under was that, for all its dangers, the night felt far less cruel than the waking world.

At least out here, I wasn't expected to fight to exist.

At least out here, I could just be.