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When We Finally Become Ourselves
When we finally become ourselves, the world sees what we truly are. And the world is far from ready.
It took exactly twenty-six minutes for her to realize she was being followed.
Her brain had registered it earlier — a shadow flickering at the edge of her vision, the subtle disruption of background rhythms — but only when she caught the man’s reflection in a shop window for the third time did everything click into place.
Nina liked patterns. Patterns meant order, and order meant safety.
This pattern was new. And new meant danger.
She slowed her pace just enough to force his hand: either he would walk past her, breaking his control over the situation, or he would hesitate and reveal himself.
He slowed down.
A chill ran down her spine, a flickering current through her nerves. Her fingers tightened around the keychain in her coat pocket, cold metal pressing into her palm. Not that a set of keys would do much against a full-grown man, but it was something.
She turned sharply into an alleyway — a deliberate test. This wasn’t a logical route home. If he followed, she would have her answer.
