Chapter Nine - New Connections

Jackson wasn't like his overachieving siblings. Academics bored him to death. He couldn't fathom sitting behind a desk for hours on end, being talked at by adults about things he couldn't care less about. Mitochondria? Algebra? Macbeth? None of it felt real or relevant to the kind of future he imagined for himself. If Jackson did go to school, he'd usually breeze in for a class or two, maybe stay for lunch, then slip out unnoticed. 

He had a favorite hideout—a few streets down from his school. It was an abandoned house, forgotten by time and untouched by the threat of renovation. Jackson and his friends had claimed it, and it became the spot. Peeling wallpaper, graffiti on the walls, and old creaking floorboards—perfect. When life at home got too loud or suffocating, Jackson would grab his backpack, sneak out in the dead of night, and disappear into the silence of that house. It was the one place where he didn't have to be anyone or explain anything. No expectations. No noise. Just... peace.

His friends were a questionable bunch. Loud, wild, reckless. The kind of people most parents warned their kids about. But Jackson wasn't interested in cliques or popularity—he just wanted people who made life feel less dull. And if that came with drinking cheap alcohol or trying out strange-smelling substances, so be it. He wasn't proud of it, but it gave him something to do. Something to feel.

The Baldwin estate buzzed with the familiar chaotic energy that only the upcoming spooky season could bring. Outside, the leaves crunched underfoot, painted in hues of burnt orange and gold, while inside the grand kitchen, the scent of cinnamon and roasting turkey wove through the air like a comforting promise.

Camila supervised the elaborate dinner menu with precision, her sharp eyes scanning every detail as her staff bustled about. The dining room table was draped with an elegant cream cloth, accented by deep red candles and polished silverware—a stark contrast to the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, Jackson found a rare moment of escape. Instead of getting caught up in family drama or the mounting pressure to "behave", he'd slipped out to meet up with a few older boys from the neighbourhood. They congregated near the hideout spot, swapping stories and passing around a football, their laughter echoing against the cold air. As he reached the corner of the street whilst walking back home, something slammed into his legs.

"Whoa—!" Jackson stumbled back instinctively, his body tensing.

A dog—large, golden, and far too excited—was bouncing up on him, front paws pawing at his jeans. Jackson froze, paralyzed by fear. His heart thudded in his chest as memories came crashing in—shouts, growls, pain, blood. Scars.

"Felix! Down! Oh my God, I am so sorry!" A girl's voice rang out, hurried and apologetic. She tugged at the leash, trying to get the dog under control. "He does that a lot. Are you okay?"

Jackson's voice came out sharper than he intended. "Jeez... Control that mutt."

He aggressively brushed the dog hair off his jeans, trying to mask the trembling in his hands. He hated that his fear showed—hated it even more when it turned into snappiness.

"I'm sorry!" she said again, quieter this time. "He just gets excited."

She bent to stroke the dog's head, her movements oddly precise yet distant. She didn't look at him. In fact... she didn't look at all.

"His name's Felix" she continued. "He's my guide dog. He's still learning, so again—I'm really sorry."

Jackson blinked. "Wait... you're blind?"

"I am." She stood tall again, adjusting the sunglasses that rested perfectly on the bridge of her nose. Her jet-black hair swayed just above her shoulders. She wore a pale blue sweater and a white skirt that fluttered slightly in the warm breeze, giving her an almost ethereal air. "Firework accident." she said calmly. "It exploded too close to my face when I was little. But I make it work. I'm Ashley.."

"I'm Jackson." His tone softened, guilt edging into his voice. "That... sucks. I'm kinda sorry to hear that."

She smiled faintly and turned as if she expected him to follow, her fingers brushing over Felix's harness with casual ease.

He hesitated, then fell into step beside her without question.

She was... interesting. Not in the way most people were. There was something about her calmness, the way she owned her space, the strength tucked between each word. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. She was just being her.

As they crossed a street, Jackson instinctively reached out—just a little—to make sure she made it across safely. She didn't seem to notice.

"So.." she said after a while, "are you afraid of dogs? Judging by the noise you made, I'm guessing yes."

He groaned. "That obvious?"

"My eyes don't work but I have good hearing." she teased.

He scratched the back of his neck. "I got attacked when I was a kid. Kicked my football into the neighbour's yard, climbed over, and their dog went crazy. Got me pretty bad. I'd show you the scars, but..."

Ashley let out a soft, amused chuckle. "I believe you."

Jackson looked at her, eyebrows raised. Even though she couldn't see him, it felt like she could. Her head was tilted toward him, her lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

"Dogs aren't for everyone." she said gently. "I get it. But I promise, Felix is a sweetheart. Just overly affectionate sometimes."

His eyes drifted to the golden retriever walking beside her, tail wagging peacefully. He still didn't like it, but something about her made him want to try. Just a little.

They came to a stop in front of a tall apartment building. Ashley gently guided Felix up the steps, her hand finding the buzzer with practiced ease.

"Well.." she said brightly, "This is me. Thanks for walking me home, Jackson. Who knows, maybe our paths will cross again."

She gave him one last smile and vanished inside the building, leaving Jackson on the sidewalk—still staring at the door long after it closed behind her.

Something about her lingered. Like the scent of strong perfume after someone's left the room.