Locked In

6

AINSLEY

“If I get this one today, I swear on my sister’s grave, I’ll pay you back, man.”

“And you’re sure they’re gonna pick you?”

The other one chuckled. “Yeah, of course they will. I woke up early today just so—oh fuck!”

His scream brought me back to life, and I stared in horror at the mess I’d made on their table. And on him.

“I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

The man I’d just drenched in coffee stood up abruptly, his expression twisting with disgust as he glared at the dark stain spreading over his expensive-looking button-down and trousers.

He and his friend had ordered only minutes ago—one coffee, one ice cream—and now, his entire drink was on him. My stupid hand had nudged the cup, and that was it. Gone. Emptied.

I wasn’t sure whether to apologise again or offer to clean his clothes, though the latter seemed like a quick way to get slapped.

“Oh my goodness, Ainsley, what have you done?” Ma’am Jeena, the owner who’d let me work in her café, gasped from behind the counter. “Apologise. Now.”

Brilliant. Just what I needed—an audience. I could feel everyone in the café staring. The judgement was almost palpable.

“I’m sorry,” I managed, my voice small.

“Shut up! Just shut your filthy mouth!” the man snapped, his voice rising with every word. “I had these clothes bought for today— today —and now you’ve ruined it! Your sorry fucking means nothing.”

“I can clean it quickly and put it in the dryer, I’m sure—”

“And what about my appointment?” His tone was ice-cold.

“You’ve got it now?”

He took in a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing like a storm was brewing behind them. “You dirty little bitch—”

“Oi, that’s enough! She apologised. It was a mistake,” Ma’am Jeena cut in, but it was clear he wasn’t done.

“You think you can just mess up people’s lives because you're stuck in a dead-end job? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” He leaned in closer, his hand twitching as if he was fighting the urge to strike. “I have important people to meet, and now look at me— look at me! ”

I shrank back, heat rising to my face. Apology wasn’t getting me anywhere, but what else could I do? His anger was practically foaming at the mouth, and I was one wrong word away from a full-blown disaster. I couldn’t get angry, even if everything in me wanted to. I’d been in a very sour mood, but that wasn’t enough to make Ma’am Jeena regret letting me here.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted the tension, cutting through the rising pitch of the argument.

“Ainsley?”

I froze, the name tugging me out of the chaos. Slowly, I turned to find myself face to face with...Blake Everett. Of all people, Blake Everett. He stood near the door, looking every bit the part of someone who had more money than he knew what to do with.

His hair was perfectly slicked back, and his watch—no, that wasn’t just a watch; it was a bloody Patek Philippe—glistened under the café lights. His shoes, polished to an almost impossible shine, matched his tailored suit. Even his cufflinks screamed money.

I couldn’t read the look on his face, but the shock was clear. It was like he couldn’t quite process the fact that I was standing here, in this mess—in a coffee-stained apron, my hand still holding a half-wet rag, trying to stop a customer from knocking me out.

His eyes flicked from me to the furious customer, then back again, his brows furrowing.I could feel my face flush even deeper. The embarrassment hit me hard—harder than the argument had—and I wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“Hi.”

Ma’am Jeena allowed me a fifteen minute break to clear my head and see my ‘friend’. Blake Everett. Lord. Blake.

We sat outside the coffee shop, the air chill, crisp and biting in that unmistakable way that signalled Halloween was near. I tugged my sleeves down over my hands, trying to block out the cold creeping through my long sleeve jersey that had Chicago Bulls written over it, but it was no use.

I was across from Blake, trying desperately not to let my gaze drop to his wrist, but it was impossible to ignore the gleaming watch that caught the light every time he moved. I glanced away quickly, pretending to be interested in the people rushing past in their jackets and scarves.

The plastic table between us wobbled slightly every time one of us shifted, the umbrella shed above us rustling softly in the breeze.

“So...what are you up to? You’ve been good?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable with the awkward silence.

“Yeah.” I forced out a chuckle. “Yeah, of course. Been good. You?” I asked, then shook my head. “Clearly, you’ve been doing well so...”

He blushed. Well, okay. He had every right to. Silence reigned for about a minute until he pointed inside.

“What was that earlier?”

“What? That man? Oh, just another weird day at work.”

“You work here?”

Are you blind? “No...no actually. I came here to help—”

“That’s great. Shocked for a sec there. Thought you work here. So what do you do? Did you come here for the holiday?”

I opened my mouth, speechless. He thought working here was worse? What would he say if I told him what I really did for a living?

Embarrassed, I laughed and deflected. “What’s up with you and Jane? Still together?”

“No. We parted three years ago. She’s married now.”

“That’s sad. You guys were inseparable in high school.”

“We were immature. What about you?” He stole a quick look at my body. “I see you are still the same. You even cut your hair. I almost didn’t recognise you.”

“Disappointing. I recognised you by your voice. It barely changed.”

We kept going back and forth, in circles, until we ran out of words and fell quiet again. He was right. I didn’t change. With loose jeans, oversized shirts, sneakers—that I wore frequently in high school but accidentally got used to as I grew up—I didn’t change. I’d trimmed my hair some months ago, and it was now an inch or two below my shoulders.

“Do you remember Theon?” I asked after a moment of silence. He’d been on my mind since yesterday night. I couldn’t sleep. I came to realise where I’d seen the locket after tossing and turning on my bed. It was his. He’d given me once in school, but I’d given him back two weeks after because I didn’t want it. To say I was shit scared last night would be an understatement. Fear had crept in first, then relief settled in after I was calm on my bed. He was alive. But how?

“Who? Theon? Theon Ryder?”

“Yeah. He was...dead, right?”

His brows pinched, like he was hearing it for the first time. “Dead? I thought he went missing three months before graduation.”

Oh, yeah. Right. I was the only one who thought he was dead because nobody else believed me.

“I mean...missing. He was missing.”

He relaxed. “Yeah, I remember him. He was the quiet asshole genius then. He barely talked.”

“Yeah.” I remembered.

“Always staring at you.”

My heart shifted.

“I wasn’t the only one who thought that guy ditched school, was I? I never really believed he went missing or those rumours flying around. That asshole never liked school even if he was a genius. He never liked anything at all. He was disinterested in parties, everything. Except you.”

The memory sank in, and the organ in my chest picked up.

“You knew he liked you, right? Of course. He was always at the back, staring at your head during lectures, practical classes and all. Almost everyone knew actually, even some teachers.”

I sighed. It all came back to me last night. All the days he spent watching me in high school, but never really talked to me. He rarely did. He mostly watched. It really creeped me out, so I didn’t talk to him either. It got worse when he gave me that locket and said it’d look good on me. I wore it for one week, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off me. I was the only thing he stared at, and it didn’t bother him one bit that everyone knew he was ogling me.

My friends would tease me about it, and at one point, I didn’t enjoy it anymore. I refused to wear it for the next week, only to find a letter in my locker from him, demanding why I wasn’t with it. He was starting to scare the shit out of me, and I had to return it.

He’d taken it back without question, but no one saw him in school for four days after that. He was a mystery to everyone, and I loathed him a bit then because other guys refused to come close to me as they were low-key scared of him. The silent treatment he gave me also began to annoy me, especially when I started to feel something for him.

“Why did you ask? Have you seen him recently?”

“Uh—uhm, no. I haven’t.” Why did I lie? Why did I say no when he strangled me almost to death last night?

“Guess he’s still missing. Or do you think he’s dead?”

A bell rang from inside—Ma’am Jeena. It was time to get back to work.

“I don’t know, Blake. It was nice seeing you again. I gotta get back inside.”

“Yeah, sure. Go.”

I stood up. And stopped. I needed to confirm something. “Are you here for the holiday? You’re not staying long, are you?”

“No. I’m here because my grandma forced me to. There’s no way I came back to this hole willingly. I’ll be out of here by evening. I have important meetings tomorrow.”

“Right. You look very busy.” I smiled warmly. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Nice seeing you as well.” He did a little bye-salute and smiled as I walked inside. I clasped my hands together in my mind and prayed to all the gods that he didn’t find out what I did in this town before he travelled back. I hoped his grandma wouldn’t remember to bring me up. Because if she did, and Blake Everett knew what I did for a living, I was dead.

Blake knowing was equivalent to everyone back in high school knowing—my nightmare. Everyone would know, that was if he still had their contacts, which I was certain he did. Why? Because he was Blake Everett.

A jerk.

“Thanks, dear. Hope to see you another time.” Mr Jorgen saw me out of his house and waved me bye. I gave him a tired smile and a small wave as I began to head home, my body aching for a rest. It was fifteen minutes past seven, and I’d assisted Mr. Jorgen in cleaning up his house and kitchen after his dinner. Half of the population in this town was old, and they needed other people to get their things done for them since their kids were too busy enjoying life to pay full attention to their needs.

It worked in my favour anyway, so I wasn’t complaining.

The streets were quiet, the faint murmurs from televisions and distant conversations barely seeping through the closed doors and windows of the houses lining the road. The street lamps flickered, casting wavering shadows on the pavement.

I absentmindedly counted the money I made today from the coffee shop. It was a decent amount, enough to make my heart race, but suddenly, that wasn’t the only thing making my pulse quicken.

A prickling sensation crawled up the back of my neck. My body stiffened, and I instinctively glanced over my shoulder. Nothing. Just an empty road stretching under the pale yellow glow of the streetlights. I swallowed, my throat dry, and quickly stuffed the money into my bag. My pace quickened, and so did my heart.

I began to hum—a nervous habit I couldn’t remember when it started, but it always came when I felt...watched. It helped me keep the fear at bay, even if only a little bit. Was it five years ago the first time I’d felt this way? It had been that long since the sense of being followed crept into my life.

Then, it happened.

Footsteps.

A slow, deliberate rhythm behind me, just loud enough to be heard, as if the person wanted me to know they were there. My blood froze in my veins, and my tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of my mouth. Panic surged through me as I dared to turn my head, just a slight peek over my shoulder.

A shadow moved.

My heart leapt, and I nearly tripped over my own feet as I whirled around, fully facing the figure behind me.

Theon.

His eyes locked onto mine, cold and unfeeling, like it had always been. He stopped walking when I did, and when I didn’t move from where I was, completely frozen, he tilted his head.

It was such a simple gesture, but it felt like a threat. My heart stalled in my throat. What would he do to me? Would he kill me? Harm me? Why was he following me? It was scary how someone I’d written off as dead in my mind for six years was standing before me, alive and tall.

His head tilted further, prompting me to keep moving without a word.

Gulping down air, I turned on my heels and continued walking. This time, I didn’t hear him, but he was still behind me, following me. He let me hear his footsteps on purpose the other time, and I wished he had continued to let me. That way, I would feel at ease knowing it was a human behind me and not some vengeful ghost walking the face of the earth.

Did my coming back to this town trigger his memory? Did he see me for the first time in six years here and decide to torment my life? Or he’d been watching me for a long time and I just didn’t notice?Did he even die?

Every curve I took, he followed. He was there, keeping his distance. He was creepy. He’d always been creepy. People in high school believed he wasn’t normal. He wasn’t. Normal people wouldn’t do this.

I shut out all of my thoughts as I neared my house, the bulb light at the front door flickering lifelessly, as if begging me to get rid of it already. I would. I needed to find time for it.

I climbed up the wooden steps, the front porch creaking like it might give out anytime soon. My house was small, but since it’d been ages it got maintained or renovated, every wood was on the verge of falling apart, interior and exterior.

I unlocked my door with my key, but before I stepped inside, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him there. His feet were slightly wide apart, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. He was standing very far away, but directly across from me.

I took a shaky breath and stepped inside, locking the door behind me with trembling fingers. Without wasting a second, I hurried to my room, dropped to the floor and crawled to the window. My chest tightened as I peeked out, expecting to see him still lurking. But...nothing. He was gone. A wave of relief crashed over me, and I exhaled shakily.

My blood began to flow normally again, and the frantic pounding in my chest finally eased. I had been so sure he would grab me off the street, slit my throat right there. But no. He just watched. Followed. And then vanished.

Creep.

I moved away from my window and stood up to fall on my bed, but another shock gripped my body on seeing what was lying there.

“Holy shit!” I jumped back, my back pressed against the window, eyes never wavering from the locket placed deliberately on my bed. It’d been on my dresser, I never touched it. How did...how did it end up on my bed?

It was open, and inside was a picture of me six years ago in high school. The gemstone had been removed. How did he come into my house? My door was locked. The locket had an emerald in it, but now...a picture of me? In high school? What...what was he up to? What the fuck was wrong with this guy?

How...how did he get in?