Lurk Color

Skylar's POV

I stood in front of my boss, feeling the heavy thud of my heart. I had just broken something valuable in the store, and I could tell he wasn't pleased at all.

"Skylar, how could this happen?" His voice was stern, and his face showed frustration. "That item was expensive, and now it's ruined. What am I supposed to do?"

"I'm so sorry, sir," I whispered, heat creeping up my face. My hands shook slightly as I clenched them together. "It wasn't on purpose. It was an accident."

He shook his head, clearly not buying it. His eyes narrowed in disbelief, like he'd heard it all before. "An accident?" His tone sharpened, and the tension hung thick in the air. "That was a one-of-a-kind item! Do you know how hard it'll be to replace?"

My stomach twisted. I wanted to disappear. My words came out shaky. "I didn't mean to… I swear I didn't. I'll do whatever it takes to fix it."

"Fix it?" he scoffed, running a hand through his hair as he paced behind the counter. "There's no fixing this. This is exactly why I don't like hiring minors. You're not even supposed to be working here yet." He sighed, his voice lower but still firm. "I need to think about how to handle this. You're lucky we can take it out of your pay, or you'd be covering this now."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth, but no words came. Before I could respond, the bell above the door chimed. A customer walked in, and I was too overwhelmed to notice at first. But then, the man spoke up, his voice gentle, yet curious.

"Is everything alright here?" he asked, glancing between me and my boss. His concern was clear, a stark contrast to the tension that still hung in the air. "It sounds like there's been a bit of an issue."

My boss turned, still visibly upset, but he seemed to pull back a bit, like the presence of a witness calmed his storm. "Yes, something got broken," he said tersely, "We're just figuring it out."

The man gave a small nod and reached for his wallet without hesitation. "I'll pay for it," he said, handing over the money with an easy grace. He didn't even blink at the amount and bought a few more things before turning to leave.

"Thank you so much," I managed, my voice quiet but filled with gratitude. I couldn't believe what had just happened.

He offered me a kind smile, one that held more reassurance than I could have asked for. "Don't worry about it. Take care," he said softly, and with that, he walked out, leaving a strange calm behind him.

As the door swung shut, I felt a wave of relief mixed with lingering anxiety. My boss's frustration was still there, etched on his face, but the immediate crisis was averted. Yet, deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had really messed up, that this was just one more thing going wrong in a life that was already spiraling.

I slumped into a corner, my back against the cold wall, trying to process everything. My hands trembled as I stared down at them, willing myself to calm down. But all I could think about was how fragile everything felt, like it could all slip through my fingers at any second.

Life had been hard lately. Too hard. I was trying to keep everything afloat, but it felt like I was drowning. My mom depended on me. I couldn't afford to let her down. She worked tirelessly as a housekeeper, cleaning homes to scrape by, while I did this part-time job to help. Between us, we barely managed, and even that was an understatement.

Then there was my uncle, Mr. Sabastian. Useless. Always promising to help, but never delivering. Fired months ago for being involved in some shady deals. He was just another burden. Every time I thought about him, the pressure in my chest tightened, suffocating me.

I took a few deep breaths, but they barely helped. The world felt too heavy.

A thought slipped into my mind, one I hadn't allowed myself to dwell on for a while: I wish I had a father.

I remembered the day my mom told me about him. Her face had been pale, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a sadness that never truly left.

"Your father worked so hard," she had said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "He was careful, always. But there was an accident at the gas station… He didn't make it."

I was just a kid then, too young to understand the full weight of it. But now, I felt the void, that empty space where he should have been. Every day, I felt it a little more.

I sighed, sinking deeper into the corner, wondering how much more of this I could take.

Just then, the door opened, pulling me out of my thoughts. A customer had come in, and I quickly composed myself, forcing a smile as I asked, "Hi, how can I help you today?"

The customer glanced around, pointing toward a shelf. "I'm just looking for something small, a gift."I guided them, showing a few options. My hands moved automatically, but my mind was elsewhere, caught in the uneasy feeling lingering since this morning.

"Thanks," the customer said after making their choice, and I nodded, ringing them up. "Have a good night," I said, my voice steady even as my heart thrummed with growing unease.

Once they left, I locked the doors and started closing up. As I counted the register, the quiet was unsettling. The tick of the clock seemed louder, almost intrusive. I exhaled slowly, shutting the drawer and flipping the lights off.

But then, something felt... wrong.

I glanced out the window and froze. At the end of the street, a figure stood under a dim streetlight, motionless, staring. I tried to brush it off, shaking my head. It's just a random guy, I told myself. No big deal. But the knot in my stomach tightened.

Quickly, I grabbed my things, trying not to appear rattled. As I stepped outside, the cold air hit my face, and I glanced around nervously. The guy was still there, his eyes fixed on me.

I started walking, my footsteps echoing against the pavement. "Stay calm," I whispered to myself. "You're just being paranoid." But my pulse quickened anyway. A glance over my shoulder confirmed my worst fear—he was following me. His pace matched mine.

I sped up, my breath coming quicker. I could hear the distant sound of cars and the low hum of the city, but it felt like I was trapped in a bubble of silence. My chest tightened as I tried to lose him, turning onto another street.

But when I rounded the corner, my heart nearly stopped. He was there, standing just ahead of me, as if he'd known exactly where I was going. A cold smile curled on his lips.

I swallowed hard, forcing words out. "What do you want?" My voice trembled despite my best effort to sound strong.

He took a slow, deliberate step toward me. "Just to talk," he said, his voice low, almost a purr. "Come with me."

Fear shot through me like ice, but I stood my ground, stepping back. "No," I said firmly, my breath shaky but my resolve steady. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Who the hell are you?"

His smile deepened, his eyes darkening. "Does it matter?"

My heart pounded. "Yeah, it matters," I snapped, trying to keep the edge in my voice, but he just chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Trust me," he said, voice dripping with menace, "you don't want to know."