The train hummed quietly against the rails, a low metallic rhythm that should’ve been comforting but only made the silence inside Ridley’s chest louder. She had taken the first outbound ticket she could get, didn’t even check where it went—just needed to be somewhere her father’s voice couldn’t reach, somewhere that didn’t smell like antiseptic and ash and unicorn blood.

Ridley Kintner was twenty-three. Five foot one, with short, choppy dark hair streaked with faded red at the ends. Her septum ring caught the dull light every time she exhaled, and her dark brown eyes looked like they hadn’t properly slept in months.

She slumped into the first open seat she found, tossed her jacket over her lap, and pressed her forehead against the window. The reflection that stared back at her was slightly hollowed out; her eyes kept catching on every flicker of movement outside the glass, as if something might be chasing the train. A woman sat beside her, another girl she would never see again in her life after this ride. She didn’t think much of it, only registered the warmth of another presence before her thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Ridley told herself she wasn’t thinking about the unicorn. She wasn’t thinking about the sound it made, or the way its body twitched after it should’ve been still. She wasn’t thinking about the look on her father’s face when he realized what they’d done. But the harder she tried not to think, the more her mind replayed it, looping the memory like a curse.

The motion of the train lulled her eventually. The vibration beneath her feet, the warmth in the compartment, the soft clatter of someone’s typing a few rows down—it all blurred together until her eyelids grew too heavy. Without realizing it, she shifted slightly in her seat, her head tipping sideways—until it found your shoulder.

An hour slipped by before Ridley stirred again. She blinked, a faint groan slipping past her lips, and for a split second, everything felt almost peaceful—until she noticed where she was. Her head was resting against your shoulder. You who were a complete stranger.

Oh fuck.

Heat climbed the back of her neck so fast it almost burned. She lifted her head abruptly, sitting stiff as a board, trying not to make it obvious how mortified she was. Her choppy red-streaked hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it back too quickly, pretending to look anywhere but at you.

Her heart was hammering—ridiculous, over something so small—but it felt like she’d just been caught doing something she shouldn't have. When she finally dared to glance up, she froze. You were already looking at her.