At the end of the day, I stare at my locker, perplexed, wondering if I've put everything into my bag, which is still hanging from the hook inside. It's fairly small: two little cubes at the top to store backpacks, another one at the bottom for shoes, and between them a prism-shaped space where I can hang my coat, my bag, and other belongings.
I stay there, still puzzled. It's 4:02 p.m. Classes are over, but I can't remember if I have anything to take home.
I reach an arm toward one of the top cubes, grab my math notebook, and put it neatly back into the locker. I take a quick glance: math notebook, done; science notebook, there; history notebook, still alive.
I reach for my pencil case in the bottom cube and slide it into my bag. My fingers grab the zipper, which I pull all the way across to close everything. I take my bag off the hook and set it down on the poorly cleaned floor of this school that's over fifty years old.
I pick up my jacket bought at the thrift store near my orphanage, then my soft white faux-fur jacket—also bought at the same shop—and put it on over the first one. My bag on my back, I'm about to leave.
Before closing the locker, my gaze lands on the number still written on my magnetic board. I touch the pocket of my baggy jeans and feel my old phone. I sigh and head toward Ruby's locker.
— Bee! I say as I reach her.
She turns around, her light brown eyes looking at me. Her long black hair sways slightly with the movement of her head. She smiles and steps closer.
— Stella... I'm not going home with you. I have something urgent to do, she says in an agitated tone.
That's strange... she's never agitated, usually.
— What is it? You're nervous... do you want me to come with you? I ask, worried.
She widens her eyes, smiles awkwardly, and waves her hands to say no.
— No need! I have to go alone... I... I have to leave...
She walks away a bit hurriedly toward the old public square, still decorated for Halloween even though it's September: poorly made ghosts, one-dollar spider webs stuck to the ceiling, and a huge witch with a hooked nose, a mole on the side of her nostril, and one missing tooth.
I stand there, stunned, eyes wide open. I shake my head slightly, making my hair move. Then I hoist my heavy bag back onto my shoulders and leave the school.
I check that I have all my things: I slip my hand into the pocket of my jeans—my phone is there.
After walking for about twenty minutes, I decide to take a narrow alley, a shortcut to my place... well, to the orphanage.
It's already dark—normal, since the time change happened a while ago. As I move forward, a tension rises inside me. Something feels off.
I notice a green trash bin, its black lid slightly open. A kitten comes out: black with white spots, heterochromatic eyes—green and blue—and a gaze as gentle as a doe's. It's the kitten I've been feeding since the beginning of high school.
I crouch down, smiling, overjoyed. I pick her up in my arms—she's so cute! I stroke her; her fur is incredibly soft. She purrs, her throat vibrating with a steady, soothing sound. I gently put her back on the ground and look for food in my old bag. As soon as she starts eating, a warm murmur rises from her throat: a calm purr, like a tiny engine of happiness.
Then I notice she doesn't have... oh.
— Oh my God, it's a little girl! I say with a big smile and a cheerful voice.
At that moment, a man in his fifties enters the alley.
I immediately notice that he's drunk—and probably high. My heart starts racing. I pick up the little cat and slip her into my bag, which I half-close so she can breathe.
I straighten up quickly, ready to leave. The tension rises even more. The red bricks around me seem to grow darker.
Shit... night has really fallen.
I pull out my phone and check the time: 4:46 p.m.
I spent twenty-five minutes petting that cat...?
I run with all my strength, but he slams me against the wall.
— Hello, pretty.
His breath reeks... ew... it's suffocating!
— Let me go... fuck... I say, groaning in pain.
Actually... he stinks, period.
— Oh come on, miss... we could at least get to know each other, he says in a creepy, disgusting voice. As he presses against me, his belly is that of an alcoholic, like someone who drinks a lot of beer.
— No, you stink... I'm choking here... I say, breathing through my mouth.
~on the side of the unknown~
I had put an AirTag in her bag for her safety. I wouldn't want that child to get killed or anything like that.
I take out my new phone, the iPhone 17, open the AirTag app, and locate her near a dark alley, an area close to her orphanage but heavily frequented by drug addicts and alcoholics.
I notice that she hasn't moved from the same spot; it's not normal for her to have stayed there for twenty-seven minutes. I grab my weapon—a Kel-Tec P-3AT—which I hide in my front pocket. Then I take the keys to my BMW.
When I arrive near the location, ten kilometers from the station, I look for a staircase leading to a building's roof. I spot an access point and hurry up; my fingers, with my fake nails, grip the cold, rusty stairs.
Once on top, I cross the roof and look over the edge. I see her on the other side of the building, struggling against an attempted assault. Anger rises inside me; without thinking, I pull out my Kel-Tec P-3AT. A sharp little pop snaps, followed by a metallic click.
I watch the body collapse onto the ground. Blood bursts out. Then I look at the young girl.
ྀིྀི on Stella's side ྀིྀི
When she notices me, I wink at her, then turn around, letting my blood-red dyed hair flow. Then I walk away.
I stand in front of a lifeless body; a woman in her thirties is lying there... she killed her... why... fuck...
I drop to my knees and cry, not knowing what to do. The cute kitten sticks her head out of my bag and meows innocently.
— It's okay, my little one... I say in a trembling voice.