You cannot rely on anything to keep yourself safe. Not a gun. Not Yourself. Not a lock. Nothing.  Despite how hard you may try, you can never really keep yourself safe. 

Despite having been told this all her life, Mae never paid the philosophy any mind. Sure, she was aware that danger existed, but she had been on this earth for nineteen years, and within all that time, the most danger she had ever been in was a car crash at fifteen. Why should she spend her whole life constantly looking over her shoulder?  She wanted to enjoy life for what it was, not abhor it for what it could be! So when she finally moved out and got her own apartment, she didn’t feel the looming sense of dread her friends all felt when they first moved out. I’ll just lock my doors and I’ll be fine, she told herself.

 The lock in question was a thin chain with links that looked more like paper clips than brass. But Mae treated it like it was the drawbridge to her castle. Along with this drawbridge, there was the small doorknob with the built in lock. However, Mae rarely put any thought into this one, as the previous tenant had worn it out so badly that it didn’t even work, and just spun on its axle, serving only to remind her to eventually talk to the landlord about getting it repaired. The rest of the apartment was more of the same, with a living room small enough to harbor a couch peppered with cigarette burns, a cheap flatscreen Mae had brought from home, a microwave precariously balanced on a pile of boxes that still remained packed, a dingy bathroom, and a coffin sized closet. 

And for a few months, that was where Mae called home. The boxes eventually got unpacked, welcoming a few shelves worth of clothes (mostly ugly sweaters and faded jeans), a bedside table, and a couple paintings and decorations she had brought to spruce the place up. Waiting tables earned a bit more money than she thought it would, especially with tips, but not nearly enough to have any extra cash to spend. So when she read about the gas station right down the road needing employees to work the night shift, she immediately applied. One hasty interview later, and she had the job. But the graveyard shift wasn’t the easy cash grab Mae thought it was. Up until this point, she had almost forgotten the warnings she had been given, still neglecting to look over her shoulders. But when she first stepped out of the apartment door and saw how dark it was outside, an unfamiliar dread sank into her heart. The familiar streetside became a foreign path devoid of life, the warm Lillyrock air now had a biting chill to it, and the supposed unnecessarity of looking over her shoulder revealed just how necessary it really was. It was easy to feel safe in the daylight! There were always people around, you could look out and see where everything was, you could enter into any shop and ask for directions if you really needed to! But at night while walking briskly down the side of the road? There was no one around (or at least no one you felt safe around), you were practically blind without a light, and almost nowhere was open, except of course the gas station Mae found herself stumbling towards in the dead of night. By the time she had made it in, Mae was huffing and puffing as she ran between the automatic doors. 

And despite the terror that gripped her while walking that half mile from her apartment, she kept the routine up for another few months, eventually growing confident in her strides to the gas station. What were once bone chilling treks became quick jaunts. What was once a near unbearable chill became a comforting breeze. And the lack of people became a blessing rather than a curse, with no one to annoy or distract Mae as she made her way to the gas station. But with this newfound bravery, Mae once again found herself neglecting to look over her shoulders like she had been warned to, and tonight, that negligence would have consequences. It was half past eleven when Mae found herself behind the counter, scrolling on her phone to make her shift end faster. The store was dead quiet, and not a soul had entered since she punched in at eight. She eyed the analog clock stationed above the beer cooler every so often, praying the hour hand would suddenly lurch forward to one, but to no avail. Sighing, she looked out the glass windows. It was snowing. Although light, the snow had been building up for the past few hours, piling up on the ground outside. She would’ve shoveled the walkway to the door if she could, but to put in a lot of effort for something ultimately no one would notice seemed unappealing to Mae. So she sat, waiting out the clock, endlessly scrolling on her phone. 

It had almost been a full hour when the electronic ding of the door rang out through the store. Jumping, Mae looked up and parroted the greeting she had been taught.

“Welcome to the quick stop, how can I help you today?” she chirped. Walking through the doors, a man with graying hair stepped in, smelling of cigarette smoke. He ignored Mae and slowly shambled to the counter, the silver streaks in his hair glistening against the fluorescent lighting. Mae felt a chill up her spine. The fear which she had been ignoring had returned, but this time, she couldn’t lock herself away or run. The man’s shadow completely shrouded Mae. He didn’t seem that big when he walked in, but now, only a few inches away, he seemed like he was three times the size of Mae. Once again, Mae tried speaking to him. “Hello? Do you need help finding something?” The man said nothing. Instead, he leaned down, staring Mae directly in the eyes. His eyes were cloudy, with a hint of blue that matched his skin. Before Mae could ask again, the man lifted his head and shuffled out the door, ducking his head under. The way he walked made Mae feel sick. He shook like a newborn deer, but lumbered around like a bear. Mae brushed this off as him letting in the cold, but ever since he had come into the store, a chill had encroached into the store. A chill so strong, even her thick ugly sweater didn’t keep her warm. 

It was a few minutes after that Mae had made an executive decision to take off early. No one is coming in anyway, I don’t wanna waste my time, she told herself, trying to justify leaving early. The chill that clicked away at her spine with needle point claws only worsened as she stepped out into the cold. The snow still fell, slowly but consistently. It seemed even darker than usual, with not even the town’s nightlife peeking out to offer some semblance of light. But it wasn’t the unending darkness or the beastly cold that made her stop. There were no footprints in the snow. The chill got worse, and Mae felt her breath tighten. How could there be no footprints in the snow? She just had someone come in not too long ago! Sure, it had been snowing since he left, but there weren’t even any indents anywhere in the snow. It was as if he had never shown up. With a panicked yelp, Mae began making her way across the parking lot and began her jog back to the safety and comfort of her apartment. It was hard to run in the snow, with it going up to about her shin, but she bit down and kept pushing, listening to the crunching of the snow beneath her boot to give her comfort and something to focus on. The repetitive but consistent crunch of her boots kept Mae connected to the situation and allowed herself to think as she waded up the street. Maybe he took a different path and I just didn’t see. Maybe there were footprints, and I just didn’t see them! Maybe I’m just letting fear get to me. Mae flipped through each excuse she could, trying to do what she had done before and conquer her fear, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something beyond feeling caused Mae to stop and listen, as she kept up her pace. Crunch… Crunch… Crunch… 

She could hear snow crunching, crunching that didn’t match up with the pace of her jogging. Something deep inside Mae rang out. Advice that Mae had been ignoring all her life. Advice that even now she didn’t want to trust, but instinctively knew was right. To look over her shoulder. To be afraid. Quickening her pace to a full run, Mae looked back and felt her heart jolt. About ten feet back, walking as fast as Mae could run, the man from the store followed, matching his feet to each footprint Mae left in her trail. Mae didn’t know how he was keeping up with her despite only walking, but she knew she needed to get away from him. As she turned back forward, all the fear and anxiety she had been repressing suddenly started flowing through her. With everything she had, she began sprinting, her shaking breaths echoing loud in her ears, but just quiet enough to let her hear the crunching behind her. By the time she had made it to her apartment, the crunching sounded like it was right on top of her. She threw herself into her door and jolted around, locking the door with the chain. She took a moment to catch her breath. She was safe. 

Or at least she thought she was. The door started rattling violently, and the chain lock already looked like it was about to snap in half. Quickly, Mae scrambled to her closet and slammed the door shut, propping her foot against it in a last ditch effort. A sudden crash echoed through the apartment, punctuated by the sound of the clattering chain hitting the linoleum floor. Holding her breath, Mae silently prays that whatever’s out there doesn’t find her. She could hear it shuffle through her apartment in that unnatural, animalistic way. She heard it stomp into the kitchen, she heard it make its way to the bathroom, she heard it trace every inch of the apartment. Until it stopped in front of the door. Everything had gone quiet. Mae cursed in her head. The lock was supposed to keep me safe! As the closet door began rattling, Mae recalled the advice she had ignored one last time. With a sudden realization of what she hadn’t realized before it was too late, Mae looked at the closet door wide eyed, as she felt her foot slip.