CHAPTER 5

The street is quiet when I get home. Too quiet, maybe, but I don’t question it. I unlock the gate and step inside, closing it behind me carefully.

Up the stairs. No rush. No noise.

Third door on the left.

My keys are already in my hand

I unlock the first padlock.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Then the fourth.

Only when the door opens do my shoulders ease.

I step inside and lock everything again, slow and steady. Each lock clicks into place. I test the handle once. Then again. It holds.

That’s better.

My apartment is small and neat. Nothing out of place. Just the basics. A couch, a table, a bed tucked into the corner. I drop my bag on the chair and kick off my shoes.

For a moment, I stand still and listen.

Nothing.

No voices.

No footsteps.

No movement.

I pull the curtains shut and keep the lights low. The bright overhead light stays off. I don’t like it. Makes the room feel exposed.

In the bathroom, I wash my hands longer than needed. The water is warm. I scrub slowly, like I’m trying to erase more than dirt. When I’m done, I dry my hands and look at my reflection.

I look fine.

That matters.

I grab my wallet and head back out. The convenience store is just downstairs. I don’t stay out longer than necessary.

The bell rings when I enter.

The cashier nods at me. I nod back.

I move through the aisles quietly. Milk,Bread,and A bottle of water.

My eyes drift without meaning to, checking faces, movements, exits.

Two students are laughing near the back. Loud. Too loud.

One of them raises his voice suddenly, and my heart jumps before I can stop it. My fingers tighten around the basket. My breath catches.

I force myself to breathe.

In.

Out.

It’s nothing.

I keep my face calm. No one is looking at me. I lower my head and move on, acting like everything is normal. The feeling fades, but it doesn’t disappear completely.

At the counter, I pay with cash. Exact change.

“Good night,” the cashier says.

“Good night,” I reply.

Outside, the air feels cooler. I walk back quickly, keys threaded between my fingers the way I like them. When I reach my door, I unlock it and step inside without delay.

The locks go back on. One by one.

I test the handle.

Safe.

I eat standing up in the kitchen. Bread first, then water. I don’t turn on the TV. I don’t play music. Silence keeps my thoughts clear.

Later, I sit on the bed and line my shoes neatly against the wall. Everything where it should be.

Before sleeping, I check the door again.

Still locked.

I lie back and stare at the ceiling. My phone buzzes with a notification from school. I ignore it. It can wait.

Tomorrow will come either way.

I close my eyes, but sleep takes its time. My body rests, but my mind stays alert, listening to the quiet, counting the seconds between sounds.

This is how I live.

Not careless.

Just careful.