I did not have long to think when my alarm went off at 6 AM.


    It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it?


    I got ready for work, putting on my uniform and attaching my name tag.


    “Sauel! You’re going to be late. Hurry up!” Mom called from the kitchen.


    “I’m going,” I said, grabbing my backpack. For a second, I nearly forgot my disguise. I don’t know why I chose this look—it just feels right, yet out of place at the same time.


    I keep my revolvers in the cupboard. I don’t like carrying them in my backpack; the last thing I need is getting pulled over and arrested for possession.


    I rushed to the door, but my dad stopped me.


    “No se olvide. <Don’t forget to pay the power bill. I already have a past-due notice. Your responsibility is the bills as long as you’re living here,>” Dad said, watching TV from the couch.


    Dad always gave lectures. Every day. I dismissed his words with an "OK" as always.


    Traffic was bad in this goddamned city, and the drivers only added to my anxiety. A job is a job, but retail seemed less grueling than the others I had. They all paid the same shitty rate—never enough, never was.


    What was that?


    It kept happening more frequently since my connection to Cinder. She had only spoken once: You are me, and I am you.


    I was still grasping at straws. I couldn’t find that woman who threw me that night. The more I thought about it, the blurrier my memory of her face became.


    “Hey, Sauel! Are you listening?” my manager asked, his blue eyes staring down at me.


    “Yes. Don’t forget to promote the company’s music subscription,” I said, shooting in the dark.


    “So you were listening. Try not to look so distracted. I know it’s hard for people like you.”


    I would react, but at this point, he knew what he was saying and kept doing it anyway. HR had already talked to him, but—surprise, surprise—he kept at it. There wasn’t much I could do anymore, so I just took it and kept going.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I wasn’t particularly good at the job, but I tried my best. The store hours fit my new schedule well. My recent situation had made me more attentive to my surroundings. It felt like I had a sixth sense, like I knew what to do and how to do it.


    I didn’t know why, but I felt that if I ignored it, something bad would happen.


    “Hey, Sauel. Were you able to get the bottle for your mom?” Pam asked.


    Pam was one of my coworkers. She helped me out on the job and always gave good advice. She was your typical white girl, but somehow, she understood where we came from—the feeling of struggling to survive in this world.


    “Yeah. Who knew blessed liquor would fire up Mom?” I said.


    We started greeting customers by the door. Being a greeter felt like a punishment. I guess my manager figured out who reported him. Pam, being my work best friend, was caught in the crossfire.


    “Sorry for being stuck here,” I said.


    “Don’t you dare apologize. Bryan is the problem. He just refuses to grow up—even though he’s pushing forty. Even Helen hates him, and she’s been alive longer,” she responded.


    Leave it to Pam to point out details I missed.


    “Have you heard about the open auditions happening for FUNimation? We may have a chance to get at least one project,” she said.


    That was one thing we had in common—our aspirations to be full-time voice actors. If my parents knew, I’d never hear the end of it. Something about wasting my time in college getting a degree and doing nothing with it.


    “Sounds like a chance—if we land something,” I said as I greeted a customer.


    “What do you mean if? It’s when we land a role,” she exclaimed.


    Pam was always the personification of positivity.


    “Yes. When. Remember, you’re paying for the trip to Vegas when we make it,” I joked.


    “As if. The man treats the lady,” she said.


    “Oh, does that mean Sharon is paying?” I shot back.


    “Haha, Sharon would just make me pay for it. He said that when I make it, he’ll be my arm candy for life. Anyway, it’s a win-win. He can relax, and I don’t feel on edge,” Pam said.


    Pam’s boyfriend, Sharon, was a criminal journalist. Luckily, he was locally stationed, but L.A. had its dangers.


    “Don’t worry. He won’t let anything stop him from being arm candy with all expenses paid,” I jested.


    A feeling gripped my spine—a sensation both familiar and terrifying. I scanned the mall, searching like I always did. Then, I spotted it.


    A man in a red trench coat stood in the middle of the lower floor.


    Before I could yell Code Red, the man grabbed a passerby by the head and squeezed. Blood and viscera splattered onto the once-white floor.


    Bystanders close to the scene screamed but were quickly silenced by the man.


    Maybe it was my eyes, or maybe it was the distance, but I could swear he grew larger than a second ago.


    Before I could contemplate what to do, the man grabbed the floor map of the mall and hurled it in my direction.


    I shoved Pam out of the way and threw myself to the side.


    Debris crashed around me. I felt the impact in the air, the shockwave against my skin.


    Pain. Sharp. Unrelenting.


    Then—darkness.