She gently opened the door, quietly creeping out of the building without a single word. She closed the door, looking around for anyone that was following her. She saw no one. She breathed a sigh of relief, walking to her car. Her car was old and beat up, but she chose it for a reason. So no one would find her. She had stayed hidden for a while; 3 years, in fact.

She opened the door, sliding herself into the leather seat of the driver. She put on her seatbelt, hearing the click of the belt. As she went to start the car, she saw a neatly folded piece of paper sticking out from her windshield wiper. It had been placed there on purpose.

She took her seatbelt off, opening the door and walking around the car toward the paper. She grabbed it, unfolding it and scanning it. The paper, written in neat pink pen, exposed her. Someone knew her secret, but how could they know? She changed her name and everything.

She looked up from the paper, scanning the parking lot. It was full of people; staff and customers who were still in the building, a clothing store.

Okay so I just got a brilliant song idea so ignore the prompt this is just me writing down ideas as they come to my head I just wanted to share my idea so yea I want feedback if I should try to release this as my first song)

You throw me around like a ragdoll, yet I don’t fight back. I’m as emotionless as a puppet. You’re the ringmaster of this circus and I’m your biggest clown. You always rule over me no matter what. I can’t believe myself for falling for your trap. I know I’m better than this. I know I’m better than this. (I know) (I know)

(Ahhhh) (Ahhhh) (Ahhh) (Ahh)

Yet I keep smiling like a clown. But we all know deep down I’m just doing this for your own pleasure. It’s just a grin after all. Actions mean nothing without words. That grin is hiding behind a black hole. Don’t act oblivious, you know what you’ve done to me.

(Ahhhh) (Ahhhh) (Ahhh) (Ahh)

You throw me around like a ragdoll, yet I don’t fight back. I’m as emotionless as a puppet. You’re the ringmaster of this circus and I’m your biggest clown. You always rule over me no matter what. I can’t believe myself for falling for your trap. I know I’m better than this. I know I’m better than this. (I know) (I know)

(Ahhhh) (Ahhhh) (Ahhh) (Ahh)

I’m just a machine to you. I’m a machine for your bidding. I’m not suppose to have emotions. Becuse I’m your machine. I’m not a person to you. I’m your object. Meant to follow your bidding! Meant to follow your bidding! (Your bidding) (Your bidding)

(Ahhhh) (Ahhhh) (Ahhh) (Ahh)

You throw me around like a ragdoll, yet I don’t fight back. I’m as emotionless as a puppet. You’re the ringmaster of this circus and I’m your biggest clown. You always rule over me no matter what. I can’t believe myself for falling for your trap. I know I’m better than this. I know I’m better than this. (I know) (I know)

(Ahhhhhhhh) (Ahhhh) (Ahhhh) (Ahhh) (Ahh) (Ah)

Leave me alone ringmaster! Leave me alone ringmaster please! I can’t take this anymore! You dig my soul out of my body with those vicious claws! You make me fight with my inner turmoils! Ringmaster stop! Ringmaster stop! Ringmaster!

(Ahhhhhhhh) (Ahhhh) (Ahhhh) (Ahhh) (Ahh) (Ah)

(Uhm yea so that’s it I hope you enjoyed it)

Her hands trembled as she read the note on her windshield: “I know your secret.” Nervously, she scanned the parking lot filled with regular people. She crumbled the note and tossed it in her car as she hopped in her old beat up Honda. She wanted to believe it was coincidence, or even a prank some kid left only on her car. She cranked the handle to roll down her window as she pulled out the parking lot, looking back in her rear view mirror hoping to notice anything out of the ordinary.

The ride home was a blur. The note’s words echoed in her mind, turning her thoughts into a jumbled mess of panic and speculation. How do they know? she thought, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the steering wheel. It’s just a prank, she repeated to herself. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, louder with each passing moment.

Pulling into her driveway, she sat in her car, engine idling, and stared at her small bungalow tucked away in a quiet cul-de-sac. The curtains in the living room were drawn just like she’d left them. Nothing seemed out of place, but unease gnawed at her.

Inside, she double-locked the front door and leaned against it, exhaling a shaky breath. Her gaze darted around the living room, scanning for anything unusual. She told herself it was nothing—a stupid prank—but deep down, she knew better.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, making her jump. She hesitated before picking it up. It was a text from an unknown number:

“You can’t hide forever.”

Her stomach dropped. The trembling returned, this time worse. She stared at the message, her mind racing. This can’t be a prank, she thought. She thought about the file.

It had been weeks since she’d stumbled across it—an innocuous-looking folder buried deep in the archives at work. She hadn’t meant to open it, but curiosity got the better of her. What she found inside still made her stomach churn: names, dates, and payments linked to… something dark. She’d quickly closed it, told herself it wasn’t her problem, and tried to forget but couldn’t as she copied the files.

But someone must have seen her.

The phone buzzed again.

“Check your mailbox.”

She froze. How could they know where I live? The curtains were drawn, but she swore she felt eyes watching her. Slowly, she crept to the window and peeked through the edge of the fabric. The street was empty—silent and still. Her mailbox, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamp, looked ordinary.

Don’t do it, she thought. But she knew she had no choice.

Grabbing a flashlight and the baseball bat she kept in her closet, she stepped out into the night. The cool air nipped at her skin as she inched toward the mailbox, every shadow feeling like it was alive.

Her hands trembled as she opened the metal lid. Inside was another note, neatly folded and ominous in its simplicity. She unfolded it under the beam of her flashlight, her breath catching as she read the words:

“Time’s running out. Choose wisely.”

Her vision blurred. When she turned back toward her house, the porch light flickered once, then went out. A shadow moved in the corner of her eye, and she dropped the flashlight.

The flashlight clattered to the ground, its beam rolling erratically across the pavement. She fumbled to pick it up, her pulse roaring in her ears. A low rustling sound came from the bushes at the edge of her yard. She froze, every instinct screaming for her to run, but her legs refused to move.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice wavering.

Silence.

A car passed on the distant street, its headlights casting fleeting shadows across the yard. She gripped the bat tighter, her palms slick with sweat.

Then her phone buzzed again.

She yanked it from her pocket, the screen lighting up her pale face. Another text from the same unknown number:

“Don’t make me come inside.”

Her stomach twisted into knots. She turned and sprinted back to the house, slamming the door behind her and throwing the deadbolt. Her breathing was shallow, panic gripping her chest like a vice.

Her phone buzzed once more, but this time, it wasn’t a text. It was a call. The unknown number glowed on her screen.

She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the “decline” button. But what if this was her only chance to get answers? Steeling herself, she accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

At first, there was nothing but static. Then a voice—low, gravelly, and chillingly calm—broke through.

“You shouldn’t have looked,” it said.

She felt the blood drain from her face. “Who is this? What do you want from me?”

The line crackled again, and the voice came back, colder this time. “You made a choice, and now you’ll pay for it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she cried, her voice rising.

“You will.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving her in suffocating silence. Her hand shook as she lowered the phone.

And then she heard it.

A soft thud on the back door.

Her breath hitched. She turned toward the kitchen, where the sound had come from. The faint outline of a shadow shifted against the glass door.

Someone was there.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Clutching the bat, she crept toward the kitchen, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. The thudding came again, louder this time. Her trembling fingers reached for the curtain over the back door. She hesitated for a heartbeat before yanking it aside.

The glass was smeared with something dark. Red. Words scrawled in crude, uneven letters.

“Too late.”

Behind her, the floor creaked. Her entire body stiffened as the sound registered. The creak came from behind her—inside the house.

She didn’t dare turn around immediately. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the bloody words on the glass. Too late.

Gripping the bat with both hands, she forced herself to pivot slowly, her knees trembling. The living room was shrouded in shadows, the faint glow from a streetlamp outside barely illuminating the space. Everything looked the same—her couch, her coffee table, the stack of books she’d been meaning to organize. But something was wrong.

The air felt heavier, oppressive.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice firmer this time, though fear cracked through the edges.

No response.

She stepped forward cautiously, her eyes darting to every dark corner of the room. The bat felt like a lifeline in her hands, but deep down, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to use it if it came to that.

Another creak. This time, it came from the hallway leading to her bedroom. Her mouth went dry. She knew she should run—throw open the front door and bolt into the night. But something about the voice on the phone, the message on the door… They weren’t trying to kill her. At least not yet.

They wanted her scared.

Steeling herself, she moved toward the hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last. The floor beneath her bare feet seemed to groan louder than usual, her every movement amplified in the silence.

As she reached the hallway, she paused. The shadows here were thicker, her flashlight’s beam barely cutting through the darkness. The door to her bedroom was ajar.

She hadn’t left it that way.

Heart pounding, she nudged it open with the bat, the hinges squealing in protest. The flashlight revealed her bed, her dresser, her scattered clothes on the chair in the corner—everything as she’d left it.

But then her gaze fell on her nightstand.

Inside was the USB drive. The one she’d used to copy the files.

Her stomach twisted as she stepped closer as she opened the drawer, her flashlight trained on the small, innocuous piece of plastic. But the moment she reached out for it, the bedroom door slammed shut behind her.

She screamed, whirling around to face the door. The flashlight wavered in her hand, the shadows on the walls dancing erratically. “Too late,” the voice from the phone whispered, this time right behind her.

She spun again, swinging the bat wildly, but it hit nothing but air.

The flashlight flickered, and when the light stabilized, she saw it.

Words carved into the wall above her bed, freshly etched:

“Give it back.”

Her knees buckled as she backed away from the nightstand, her flashlight trembling in her grip. The carved words glared at her, each jagged letter taunting her as the walls seemed to close in. Give it back.

She stumbled toward the door, desperate to escape the suffocating darkness of her bedroom. Her hand gripped the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. She twisted harder, pulling and shaking it, but it held firm, as if something on the other side was keeping her locked in. The phone buzzed again, startling her. She fumbled it out of her pocket and stared at the screen. Another text from the unknown number:

“Last chance. Meet me where it started.”

Her breath caught. Where it started? The office. The archive room where she’d found the file.

The lock clicked behind her.

She turned, her chest heaving, but the room was empty. The door was now ajar, swaying gently as if beckoning her. Gripping the bat tightly, she crept through the house and out to her car, her mind a whirlwind of panic and determination.

The drive back to the office felt like a fever dream. The streets were eerily empty, the silence pressing down on her. When she arrived, the building loomed in the darkness, its windows like dead eyes staring at her.

She parked and made her way inside, the stale air and dim emergency lights adding to her unease. Her footsteps echoed in the silence as she descended to the basement, where the archive room waited.

The door to the room was already open. Her flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing row after row of dusty shelves. She stepped inside, her movements slow and deliberate.

“Okay,” she called out, her voice trembling. “I’m here. What do you want?”

No response.

She moved deeper into the room, her bat raised, until she reached the far corner where her cubicle resides, where she’d first found the file. A single chair sat in the center of the space, a laptop resting on the seat. The screen glowed faintly in the dim room, its pale light casting an eerie glow over the cluttered desk. The soft hum of the computer was the only sound, a faint reminder of the desperate act that had taken place just weeks before. With shaking hands, she plugged the USB drive into the laptop on the cluttered desk, the faint click of the connection sounding deafening in the oppressive silence of the room.

A shadow shifted in the corner of her eye.

“You’ve caused a lot of trouble,” the gravelly voice said, echoing through the room. She spun, but there was no one there.

“What do you want from me?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“Finish it.”

She turned back to the laptop, her hands trembling. The file blinked at her, lines of damning information scrolling endlessly.

“What does this mean?” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

The voice came again, close and cold. “Erase it. Or you’ll regret it.”

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could delete the file and walk away, leaving this nightmare behind. But if she did, the people implicated—the corruption, the crimes—would stay buried forever.

She hesitated.

“No.” The word came out firm, surprising even herself.

Silence. Then a slow, chilling laugh. “Wrong choice.”

The lights flickered, and a rush of air whipped past her. She grabbed the USB drive, yanked it from the laptop, and bolted for the door.

Behind her, the shelves groaned, crashing to the ground one by one. She ran, heart pounding, feet barely touching the ground as she burst out of the building and into the night. She didn’t stop until she reached her car, slamming the door and locking it. As she sped away, her phone buzzed one last time.

“You can’t outrun the truth.”

Tears streamed down her face as she gripped the USB drive in her hand. She didn’t know who was after her or what would happen next, but one thing was clear: the truth wouldn’t stay hidden, no matter the cost.

And now, she was the one holding it.

Her hands trembled as she plugged the USB drive into her laptop. She was back home now, every light in the house blazing, but it did nothing to quiet the fear curling in her chest. The laptop’s screen glowed like a beacon in the dark room, the files loading onto the drive, exposing every name, every transaction, every crime she wasn’t supposed to see.

The last text still lingered on her phone: “You can’t outrun the truth.”

She couldn’t outrun it. But maybe she could spread it.

She opened her email, typing in the addresses of every media outlet she could think of. Reporters, editors, even anonymous whistleblower hotlines—she didn’t care who got it, as long as someone did. In the subject line, she typed: “The truth they don’t want you to know.”

The attachment loaded, and she hesitated for only a second before clicking Send. A progress bar appeared, creeping forward painfully slowly.

Come on. Come on.

Her eyes darted toward the windows, their curtains drawn tight. She couldn’t shake the feeling she wasn’t alone, that someone—or something—was out there. The porch light flickered again, just as it had earlier.

The file sent.

She exhaled a shaky breath, relief washing over her as she leaned back in the chair. The truth was out now. They couldn’t stop it, no matter what they did to her.

But the relief was short-lived.

A low, almost imperceptible creak came from the hallway. Her blood ran cold. She turned slowly, the chair swiveling toward the sound. The light in the hall flickered, shadows shifting unnaturally.

“Who’s there?” she called, her voice barely above a whisper.

Silence.

And then, a shadow emerged. Not a person—no, this was something darker, something wrong. It moved toward her with deliberate, predatory steps.

She scrambled to her feet, knocking over the chair as she grabbed the bat again, her last line of defense.

“You can’t stop it,” she said, her voice shaking but defiant. “They know now.”

The figure didn’t respond. It lunged. The bat clattered to the floor, her scream piercing the night.

When the neighbors found the house the next morning, the door was wide open. The laptop sat on the desk, its screen still glowing, the email confirmation frozen in place.

But she was gone.

All that remained were the bloody words scrawled across the wall above her desk: “The truth comes at a price.”

Her hands trembled as she read the note on her windshield: ‘I know your secret.’ Nervously, she scanned the parking lot filled with regular people. Who could possibly know?

Gia crumpled the small note and shoved it into her jean pocket before rushing inside her car. The door slammed shut and she started the engine.

“No one could possibly know,” she muttered to herself. “Seriously, how could they?”

“Take a deep breath, Gia. No one knows,” she reassured herself, though she wasn’t convinced.

BONK BONK BONK

Gia nearly jumped out of her seat and looked out the window. Her heart beat started to return to normal when she saw it was Matthew. She rolled down the window with a sigh.

“What?” she snapped.

Matthew’s eyes widened, and Gia felt an instant pang of guilt.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

Matthew leaned on the car door, his curiosity piqued. “Wanna talk about it?”

Gia fumbled with her seatbelt, which seemed to be stuck in a loop of mischief. “Matt, just go away!”

Hurt flashed across his face before he masked it with annoyance. “Fine. I’ll text you later, I guess.”

He walked away, leaving Gia feeling like she had just ruined her only friendship. But if that’s what it took to protect her true mission, so be it.

Gia rolled the windows back up and reached into the glove compartment. She pulled out the crinkly silver package and stared at it. Inside was a perfectly intact Pop-Tart, which she had no intention of eating. Her job was not to indulge in these pastries but to defend them from anyone who might misuse them. She was the guardian of Pop-Tarts, not their consumer.

So if losing Matthew was the cost of keeping her Pop-Tarts safe from a world that didn’t understand their importance, then so be it. She could handle the loneliness as long as her Pop-Tarts stayed out of harm’s way.

————————————-

I kind of hate that way I wrote this but… yeah. I won’t be offended if you don’t like it :)

No one here could know. Could they? No one could have seen us. We were glamoured when I dragged it in. I swallow, take a deep breath and slide into my car. No one could know. I drive out of the parking lot, scanning the area to see if anyone was looking her way. No one was obvious about it. No one knows. I bite the inside of my lip as I pull out and head home. I pull into the drive and hurry inside, forgetting the bag of groceries sitting on the passenger seat. I put the key in and the door swings open. No one should be home. I tip toe lightly as I listen for signs of life. Mothers at work and Blake is at work or something. I reach the end of the hallway where my door is. I know I closed it but it isn't fully closed. I hope it's still out cold. I reach out and press the door open to find my CD player being destroyed. "What are you doing?" He jumps clearly distracted. "I was trying to figure out this device you're so fond of." He states plainly like he wasn't knocked out cold from the night or really morning before. "It looks like you're breaking it. It doesn't bend that way." I reach out quickly to take the player from his hands. The top was almost ripped apart. Why are faeries so curious. He sits down on my bed looking dejected, like a scolded kid. I roll my eyes. "Don't fret I can replace this later at least for now I still have my larger boom box." I pop a CD into my player and hear "All-star" play immediately. I laugh and remember the groceries. "Ok. Don't break anything else. I'm gonna get dinner started your highness." I give him an unnecessary bow before exiting my room. Why oh why did I get stuck with a prince who wants to live like a human for fun? Why did I bring him home? Damn it.

She looked around there was nobody there. Nobody knew nobody was hiding was normal in the parking lot. She ran for the list of people in her brain. They could’ve noticed secret. She walked out the door went to security and said hello there’s this big thing. Do you know anybody who put it there? people just didn’t care as she was quite frightened the people would question what his secret was. I wasn’t sure how to react. The uncertainty sweat the feeling of fear gripped her. She walked around aimlessly restlessly around the car park filming every car that moved every person that moved Nothing, nobody Knowing write this vengeful letter creeped her out

Her hands trembled as she read the note on her windshield: 'I know your secret.’ Nervously, she scanned the parking lot filled with regular people. Who could possibly know? She had been so careful. She rubbed the soft spot on the back of her neck abstinent mindedly.

There wasn't anything particularly interesting about the note. It was written on a piece of lined paper that looked like it had been torn from a notebook. And the words were scrawled messily in blue ink like the person who wrote it was in a hurry. Why would they leave it here of all places? The University parking lot was a wide open space in the middle of nowhere. It could have easily been grabbed by someone else or blown away.

Wait, how did they know her car?

When she looked up, she noticed a man standing a few cars away. He had one hand on the door of his black Tesla, but he’d paused and was looking at her curiously. One thick black eyebrow was raised and he looked as though he wanted to say something. She smiled, raised the piece of paper and said, "Old school communication."

The stranger laughed. "I love it. Are you an English major?" He let go of the handle on his car and walked a few steps toward her.

She quickly scanned his features to determine if she’d met him before. Curly black hair, long but tied up messily on the top of his head. Big, round eyes, looked green but he was standing just far enough away she couldn't quite tell. Thick, pink lips and a few freckles across his nose. The results were inconclusive, there were too many boys here that looked exactly the same.

The scan only took a few seconds, but he was already staring again.

He asked a question, she reminded herself. "Oh, no, I'm actually a psychology major. What about you?" As soon as the question left her lips she regretted it. She didn’t mean to invite a conversation with this man, no matter how pretty he was. Was he pretty? She needed to get home so she could analyze the note. Captain would be furious if she was discovered.

"Psychology makes sense," he answered. "You seem really thoughtful. That's probably a weird thing to say.” He bit his lip. “I'm a math major, so I'm not all that good with people. My name is Jason, by the way."

“I'm Azure.” She smiled and tightened her hands on the strap of her backpack. “And you seem plenty fine at people to me.” She hadn't had enough conversations with people to know how to politely to get out of this one. And what if he happened to be the note writer? It seemed unlikely but she didn't have any leads yet.

“That’s kind of you to say.” He took a few more steps forward so he was standing only a few feet away. "I was about to go to the campus bar to study, do you want to join?” He smiled in that way that made Azure believe he was desperate for her to say yes.** **This is one of those moments where she wished she had inherited her mothers mind reading skills.

Learning to understand boys like him _was _part of the job too, the note could wait a couple of hours. “Okay, but let's walk,” she suggested, knowing she couldn't risk him getting into her car. It looked normal on the outside but the tech inside wouldn’t be familiar to him. And there was no way she was going to get into his car.

"Sure," he shrugged. "Where are you from by the way? I can't place your accent.”

Her heart jumped into her throat as she stuffed the note into the top of her backpack. Before turning back to face him she took a deep breath, she’d been put on the spot many times during training, she could do this. And it was normal for people to ask where you’re from, she knew that.

"I moved around a lot growing up. So, my accent isn’t really from anywhere in particular."

…

At the bar she fumbled through what to order and ended up with a beer that was much more bitter than she liked but would never admit it. After they’d touched their glasses together in what he’d called cheers, Azure reached down, unzippped her bag and took out her social psychology textbook book.

“Oh, you actually want to study?” Jason asked, surprised.

“Isn’t that what we came here for?”

"That is what I said," Jason paused and looked at her in that strange way again. "But, I guess I was hoping we could just talk." Blush rose into his cheeks and he looked away.

"Oh, yeah we can talk." She didn’t understand why people didn’t just say what they meant. Azure closed her text book and folded her hands on top of it. "So….the reason I’m actually taking psychology is because I don’t really understand people.” She didn’t blush, but she nervously rubbed her thumbs together. When Jason didn’t say anything she continued. “I know it’s pretty embarrassing to be twenty two and not know how to interact with people, but I moved around so much that I stopped trying to make friends by the time I was thirteen. How’s that for an overshare?”

Jason laughed hard like it had escaped his body even before he was aware that it was coming. But he quickly put his hand over his mouth. "Sorry," he blushed again. “I swear I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because I get it. Not that I moved around a lot, but I definitely didn't have that many friends growing up. I was one of those kids who spent most of his free time with one friend in my parents basement playing videogames. Now, that definitely makes me sound really cool. Want to be friends?” He laughed again, but this time it sounded different, maybe like he was a bit uncomfortable.

"I mean, making friends is kind of part of my homework.” Azure took another big sip of her beer and even though she was only about a third of the way through the glass, she could feel it in her cheeks.

"Yes!" Jason answered much more enthusiastically than she anticipated. "Us hanging out can actually be studying!"

After two hours and another beer, this time something a lot more fruity, she realized she needs to get out of there or she was going to say something she’d regret. So she pushed back her chair and announced, “I better go and get some actual studying done.”

“Wait! Let me at least get your number.”

Azure didn't have a regular number, but she had downloaded a couple of apps so she could communicate with her teachers. She scanned quickly through the options to determine which would make her seem the least dorky. “Do you have Discord?" She asked. He nodded and she pushed her notebookacross the table so he could write down his username.

"I’m going to stay and actually study, but it was nice to meet you." Jason said as he pushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He looked like he was going to stand but decided against it.

"Nice to meet you too," for the first time Azure felt like she actually meant it.

Back at her car, Azure was still thinking about her time with Jason. He was a bit of a weirdo but in a way that made her feel, almost comfortable. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she almost didn't notice the note on her windshield. This time it read: ‘You don't think you can be normal, do you?’

My secret No one knows What’s this letter As the bird crows

It’s my nightmare My privacy fades Needing silence Lost in spades

My weary eyes roamed the crowd, wondering you it could be. It could be anyone. I lean against my car, looking preoccupied with my phone. In reality, I was fiddling with my weapon of choice. I heard as foot steps approached me. Looking up, I spotted a muscular young man walking towards me. “I see you got my note,” he muttered so only I could hear. “I am worried you didn’t fully uncover my secret. If you knew, you would be running away this very second.” He chuckled. He didn’t believe me. But he was about to. Eyes glowing, I looked him in the eyes. “Kneel.” It was a command, and he sunk to his feet. He struggled but was powerless against the very force of my mind. I leaned down and whispered in his ear. His body shook, overcome by fear. Now it was his turn to look at me with weary, frightened eyes. “My only secret is what I do to those who don’t believe in power. My power.”

Torn yellow sheet from a legal pad, its ragged edge fluttered in the breeze. Again and again, Lena read the note’s block letters in red Sharpie. She dropped the bottles of Malbec from the state store. Blood red wine and splintered glass flooded Lena’s sandals. Lena jumped back. Who knows? Lena thought. She scanned the shopping center parking lot. Mothers with strollers, an old man with a walker, a greasy teen was putting away shopping carts, a woman with glasses, each face became a cruel caricature.

“Hey lady you okay?” A biker type guy asked.

How could someone know? Lena whirled. The kid putting away carts stopped and stared. The woman with glasses approached.

“Do you know you hurt your leg? Your leg is bleeding. Did you break your package?” A mother with twin toddlers asked. “Look see she broke her bottle.”

Breathing hard, Lena backed away and tripped on the spilled booze. Her knee slammed on the ground. She dropped her car keys and purse. The purse spilled on the blacktop. Wallet, lipstick, Lena’s water bottle of vodka rolled away. The biker picked up Lena’s keys. Pushing him back, Lena snatched the keys and climbed into her car. Someone knows what I did.

“Lady, wait!” Someone shouted.

Lena pealed backwards. She scraped a Camry racing out of the parking lot entrance. The teen walked back to the market to get his manager. Someone called 911 as a group of shoppers gathered and pointed. Shaking his head, the biker walked over to his truck with his gallon of skim milk. Who stuck paper under my windshield wiper? He wondered.