School had ended thirty minutes ago, and my house was a faraway sanctuary. The bus had already left, and my mother was in another country for a business meeting. My phone, of course, was dead. The isolated road, adorned with dim street lights, and the cool breeze sporadically hitting my face, added an eerie touch to the atmosphere.

I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my coat, my eyes darting around nervously. The bushes rustled in the wind, and the street lights barely alleviated the darkness. An untouched playground loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadow. A noise behind me made me cock my head back, my heart racing. I bit my cracked lower lip, peering into the darkness. Nothing was there, but the paranoia gnawed at me.

As I walked, my eyes played tricks on me, conjuring shapes and shadows that weren’t there. I kept repeating to myself, “nothing was there,” but the mantra did little to ease my fear. Every sound, every whisper of the wind seemed amplified, feeding into my growing dread. The cold breeze felt increasingly unbearable, my hands freezing despite being in my pockets. Quiet places always made my stomach churn.

“They say, ‘Don’t Walk Home Alone,’ and now I understand why.” I muttered under my breath.

Footsteps echoed behind me, growing closer with each passing second. My heart pounded in my chest, fear clawing at my throat. I turned, my breath hitching. In the far distance, a tall silhouette emerged. My heart skipped a beat as I noticed the glint of a knife in his hand. My eyes widened in terror.

Sometimes, it’s not what’s behind you that you should fear. Sometimes, it’s where you’re headed. It's never nothing.