Mall Shadows
Act 1: Fitting Room Flicker
You came to the mall alone. Nationals were coming up fast—Florida heat, outdoor arenas, and a uniform that barely passed for breathable. You needed summer clothes. Something light. Something that wouldn’t cling when the adrenaline kicked in.
You’d been browsing for a while, slipping between racks, chatting briefly with store clerks, smiling at classmates who recognized you. You were popular, sure—but not the kind that stayed locked in one group. You talked to everyone. Even the DSMP, though you didn’t know them well. They were legends of their own in the school—)oud, fast, sporty and always surrounded. You were more... approachable.
You hadn’t arrived with them. You hadn’t even seen them today.
Inside the fitting room, you tried on a pair of shorts and a cropped tank. The mirror caught your reflection in soft light. You turned, checking the fit, adjusting the hem. It was peaceful. Quiet.
Then you saw it.
A faint flash. Just a flicker—from the corner of the stall, where the door didn’t fully close. A crack, barely wide enough to see through. But if someone leaned in at the right angle…
Your stomach dropped.
You froze, heart thudding, eyes locked on the gap. The flash was gone. No sound. No movement. But the feeling lingered—like static in your spine.
You changed back fast. Didn’t fold the clothes. Didn’t hang them. You just needed to get out.
Act 2: Eyes in the Crowd
You stepped into the mall’s main corridor, the noise suddenly too loud, too close. You walked quickly, trying to shake the feeling crawling up your back.
Then you saw them.
Six men. Laughing. Lingering. One of them—him.
Danny.
Your ex-stepdad.
Your mother left him after what he did to you. You thought he was gone. You thought he couldn’t find you again.
But he had. And he wasn’t alone.
You sped up, walking fast but not running. You didn’t want to draw attention. You didn’t want to panic. But every glance over your shoulder confirmed it—they were following you.
You turned a corner, heart racing, trying to find an exit. You were so focused on Danny’s face in the crowd that you didn’t see the person in front of you until it was too late.
You slammed into a chest.
Strong. Vaguely familiar.
Sapnap.
You flinched hard, instinctively recoiling, your mind flashing red—Danny, his hands, his voice, his threats. But it wasn’t him. It was Sapnap.
He blinked, startled, the rest of the DSMP shifting behind him curiously; having heard the impact.