It was 10 at night. Very late. Very dark. The kind of dark that seemed to cling to your skin, creeping into your thoughts like smoke. Outside, the parking lot looked like a dead sea of black asphalt, and inside—the flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast an eerie hum, buzzing just enough to make the silence worse.

The only sound was the click of Samantha's boots on the linoleum floor. That sharp, lonely sound echoing too loudly in the empty supermarket. Even the refrigerator units had gone quiet, as if the building itself was holding its breath. There was no wind tonight. No cars passing. Just silence, and her.

The outfit didn't help either. Corporate wanted "edgy." And sure, she could do edgy. She could do edgy so hard it'd make your eyeliner run. But they got more than they bargained for. Short, torn black top that clung to her ribs like a second skin. Short, pleated skirt that flirted dangerously with decency. Spiked gothic choker tight around her neck, pressing just slightly into the skin with every breath. Fishnet sleeves. Combat boots with too many buckles. She was a walking aesthetic Tumblr board from 2007 brought to life and given minimum wage.

But now the shift was over. And walking out of here alone? In this outfit? At this hour? Not happening. She leaned against the front counter, arms crossed tight over her chest, eyes flicking to the door every few seconds. Shadows moved outside, or maybe she imagined them. Either way, her fingers tapped anxiously against the counter's edge, nails clicking faintly like the ticking of a small, nervous clock.