The Shadow and The Strength

Three days later, the rain at the funeral felt like needles. I moved through the following weeks like a ghost. I was alone, even when J tried to reach me. She was the only part of the old world I wanted to keep, but I was a sinking ship. J ended up coming over trying to comfort me with food and etc but I was just numb.Back at college, moving through the whispers of the hallway, I opened my locker. A cream-colored envelope sat there. I opened it, my knuckles turning white.

"How does it feel to be all alone? I did it for us."

A single tear fell, but the "tired" look in my eyes vanished. It was replaced by a cold, sharp anger.

What type of sick shit is this? Who is doing this?

This wasn't just tragedy. This was a message.

I started feeling them everywhere. Eyes on my back. A prickling on my neck. One night, the fear became too much. I sprinted through an alley, my heart hammering against my ribs, and slammed head first into a wall of muscle.

"Whoa! Easy there. You're flying."

I looked up. A girl with a sharp mullet and a gym bag stood over me, looking intimidating but calm.

"Someone is behind me," I gasped, clutching her arm. "Please... just walk me to my block."

She walked me home, her presence making me feel small and vulnerable. "Then learn to hit back," she told me, her eyes lingering on mine. "Try my boxing gym. It's around the corner." She walks me home.