Hi everyone, I’m new to writing. This is the first thing I’ve ever worked on and I’m, and looking for feedback. I also just wanted a way to share this with people who may be interested. Thanks so much for reading!
Chapter 1
Jared sits in his apartment, on his favorite divot on the couch. The living room’s bare brick walls and mismatched furniture were empty space to Jared—familiar, unassuming. On the television, sitcom laughter erupted, the noise sharp against the quiet hum of the fridge. The chatter of the characters fills the room, a distraction from the silence he dreads. It was in moments like these that his mind would betray him, conjuring her voice, her laugh, the sound of her key in the door.
There’s a lot to do, the threat of the LSAT looms dreadfully. Jared scheduled a test date around a time he’d likely need an effective distraction. A February test date offered the illusion of progress, but progress required effort. There’s a birthday card for his boss sitting blank on the table and an essay due tomorrow at midnight, each task no more than a fleeting thought in his unmoving haze. Because for now, Jared just sits. For a month and a half, give or take, just sitting has been his most practiced hobby.
Eventually, as it always does, his hatred of himself for putting aside all of his responsibilities overrides the numbing of his brain. He opens his laptop, the light of the screen shocks his bloodshot eyes. Fingers begin to move, almost on their own. With every tap and click he feels his senses returning. Jared has always had the skill of making himself sound a lot smarter than he is. It’s incredible how a potato brained fool can be a legal analysis savant for two thousand words in Times New Roman, double spaced font. Well, five hundred words for now, genius and effort has its limits.
Next, attention is turned to LSAT review note cards. With every card, Jared likes to imagine a little checklist in his head. Little nuggets of information slowly being absorbed, the monotonous turning of small pieces of paper adding a sort of calm to the room. Jared flipped to the next card, the word quixotic staring back at him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the fuzziness clouding his vision. The letters seemed to shimmer for a second, twisting and warping into something indecipherable. He blinked hard, and the word returned to normal.
Must be the lack of sleep, he thought, tossing the card onto the table. But the unease lingered, curling in the back of his mind like smoke.
Now, the most heartfelt and passionate birthday wishes were due. It wasn’t that Craig Evans, esteemed manager of the prestigious Burger Barn, would actually care. But Jared’s performance review was coming up, and every little bit helped. His focus is broken as his attention is drawn to his phone. The glowing notification stared back at him like an accusatory finger. His stomach sank. Of course, he forgot about the appointment. What else was new
The thing about Jared, he holds an expertise in two skills actually. One would be sitting and doing nothing, and the other is forgetting. His boss’ birthday card will have to wait until after his appointment with Dr. Wright, which he is now on pace to be ten minutes late for.
***
“I’ve just been chillin’ to be honest”
“Now Jared, I can’t and won’t force you to share more than you’re comfortable with. But you might find these sessions more helpful if you can give me a little more detail.” Dr. Wright looks up from her notes, her kind eyes give an inviting expression to Jared. Her warm smile establishes an aura of trust.
Jared chuckles, his cheeks blush slightly out of embarrassment. “My bad, I’m still in homework mode. I’ve been doing okay. Trying to work the piano a little bit more, and I’ve been going to the gym more often.”
Dr. Wright nods thoughtfully. “How’s your diet been?”
“Fine,” Jared says, avoiding her gaze. He notices her raised eyebrows and frown, prompting him to add, “I’ve been doing better. I try to schedule times to eat so I don’t forget or lose track of time, you know, with LSAT stuff and work.”
As Dr. Wright nods her head, her hand begins to scribble. As she writes, Jared is drawn to a bowl of spearmints that sit in between him and his therapist. Their smell is strong in breaking the air but gentle upon his nostrils. The walls were adorned with paintings—probably a side hobby of Dr. Wright, Jared assumed. One sits on the east wall, staring directly at Jared. It’s a dog, it’s just sitting there, it’s just staring. Behind the dog is a beautiful meadow, the unnaturally green grass is contrasted by red, blue, and yellow flowers. The pure blue sky is broken by ghastly clouds, somehow softening the already serene environment. It’s all nauseatingly calm, annoyingly perfect.
“That’s a good habit to build,” Dr. Wright says, jotting down a note. After a brief pause, she looks up again. “How are you doing with staying in no contact?”
Jared shifts in his seat. The question breaks his calm, and he feels the pressure inside himself begin to rise. “I mean… I just…” He takes a moment to compose himself. “I don’t know, really. I’ve just been doing nothing. I guess there’s nothing to do, so I’m doing nothing. Does that make any sense?” Dr. Wright nodded, but Jared felt exposed, like she could see past the shrug, past the nonchalance. The quiet pressed down on him, and his mind screamed, Say something else! Anything else! But all he could do was sit there, the silence loud in ways it shouldn’t be.
Dr. Wright’s tone remains gentle. “I understand. It can be hard to accept situations for what they are right now. But taking this time to heal is important. Think of it as a chance to reconnect with yourself—to figure out who Jared is, outside of anyone else. It might feel uncomfortable, but it’s good to know the value you have by yourself.”
By himself. That’s exactly the reality Jared has been trying to avoid. It’s the reality that makes itself known in the moments of silence. It’s the reality that makes itself known when he cooks, by himself. When he cleans, he does it alone. When he listens to the same songs, watches the same movies, he does it by himself now.
“Well Jared, that is all the time we have for this session. I want to challenge you to keep up with your journal, and recognize how your emotions continue to shift with everything.”
Jared stands from his seat, his brow furrowed, mouth tightening into a faint grimace. “Thanks, Dr. Wright,” he mutters, the words automatic. She gives him a small nod, her warm expression unchanged, as though she’s accustomed to goodbyes that don’t quite stick.
The receptionist flashes a polite smile as he walks past her desk, but Jared doesn’t meet her eyes. The faint humming of fluorescent lights fill the lobby, blending with the muted tap of keyboards and the shuffle of papers. He steps into the elevator, pressing the button with more force than necessary.
As the doors slid shut, Jared exhaled, his eyelids heavy. The growl of the elevator motor filled the small space, leaving no room for distraction. In the quiet, his mind drifted—not forward, but back. And with that drift comes a familiar ache. His thoughts wander, unbidden, to places he’d rather avoid—ghosts of conversations, the echo of laughter that feels like a punch to the chest.
It’s always like this. In the quiet, his mind doesn’t drift; it digs. Callused though it is, it still knows where to press hardest. His mind slips to a distant time, to the beginning.
He couldn’t exactly describe how he felt the first time he met her. It was strange—like tasting a food you instantly love but can’t compare to anything else you’ve ever eaten. How do you describe something so new? Like discovering a completely new color, how do you begin to name it? How do you attribute value to it in your own mind?
Their first conversation was casual, nothing out of the ordinary. Jared had given her some general advice as she prepared for college, nothing he hadn’t said to others before. But this time, something felt different. Every time she smiled, a warmth stirred in him. When she began rambling question after question, her nervous energy on full display, he found himself grinning back. Her anxiety was palpable, almost endearing, and he’d never been so drawn to someone so preoccupied with the smallest details.
There was something about her—something he still struggled to put into words. Her brown eyes didn’t just look at him; they seemed to look into him. They pierced, not like a knife, but like a vaccine, soothing the sickness he hadn’t realized had taken hold of his heart. Sharp and striking, their shape added an edge to her beauty, pulling him further into her orbit.
Her long black curls framed her face perfectly, tumbling over her shoulders with effortless strength. Her skin was soft, her hands delicate, though they carried the strength of her cautious confidence. She intrigued him—the confidence she kept buried under layers of careful precision, the contradictions that made her more compelling with every word.
Every sentence Jared spoke to her felt like walking a tightrope. With each exchange, he whispered a silent prayer that it wouldn’t be his last.
Eventually, the last sentence came—years later.
The elevator jolted slightly as it reached the ground level, the doors sliding open to reveal an eerily empty parking garage. The fluorescent lights reflected off the scattered cars, the uncanniness was unsettling. Jared’s car sat near the corner, its familiar silhouette a small comfort amidst the emptiness.
With a sharp chirp, the car’s lights flashed as Jared unlocked it. He stepped inside, the stale, warm air giving way to the cool rush of the AC. He let out a deep sigh, gripping the wheel as though grounding himself. The silence that had accompanied him from the elevator was warded off by the blaring of a pop hit from the radio, the upbeat tune clashing awkwardly with his mood.
Shifting into drive, Jared pressed the gas harder than he intended, the tires giving a brief squeal against the concrete. His pulse quickened, the sudden jolt breaking through the fog that had dulled him all day. The empty parking spots blurred past, white lines flashing in his peripheral vision like distant beacons. The overhead signs became checkpoints in a mindless race to nowhere, pulling him into a fleeting, hollow focus.
His focus would remain until a figure, a man, appeared in the path of his headlights, seemingly out of nowhere. Jared’s breath hitched as he slammed the brakes, the screech echoing through the garage. The car lurched to a halt, stopping mere inches from the man.
Jared sat frozen, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. The figure stood motionless, bathed in the harsh glow of the headlights, his silhouette sharp yet strangely indistinct. Was it fear? Or something else entirely that kept him rooted in place?
Snapping back to reality, Jared fumbled for the window controls, rolling it down to stammer an apology. The words caught in his throat as he looked up.
The man was gone.
The space in front of his car was empty, the concrete stretching endlessly into shadow. Jared blinked, his chest tightening. His eyes darted to the mirrors, to the corners of the garage, searching for any sign of movement. Nothing.
Whatever had just happened, Jared couldn’t explain it. And yet, it left him with a lingering unease that seemed to seep into the air around him.
***
The upbeat pop hit blared through the speakers, but Jared wasn’t listening. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles pale against the dark leather. He drove in a kind of autopilot, the lines on the road blurring together.
In the silence between songs, he thought he heard her voice. Just for a second, faint and fragile, cutting through the noise like a ghost. He turned the volume up, drowning it out. But the ache in his chest didn’t go anywhere.
As he pulled into the parking garage, he whispered under his breath, “It’s just in your head.” Saying it out loud didn’t make it feel any truer.
As Jared pulled into the parking garage of his apartment building, a dull ache throbbed in his head, each pulse a reminder of the five, or sometimes four, hours of sleep he was forcing himself to run on. The exhaustion clung to him, heavier now that he was back in the familiar confines of home.
He parked in his usual spot, the tires crunching softly against the concrete. As he stepped out, a soft cooing caught his attention. The pigeons were there, as they always were, perched on the concrete divider that separated the floors.
They recognized him.
With fluttering wings, they descended to his feet, their tiny claws clicking against the floor as they waited expectantly. Jared couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. “What’s up fellas? At least some things never change.”
Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the small stash of crumbs he always kept for them, remnants of stale bread or crackers from the week. He sprinkled them on the ground, watching as the birds eagerly pecked at the offering. Their simple contentment was oddly grounding, a brief pause in the storm of his mind.
Jared scattered the crumbs as the pigeons flapped and cooed around him. Their usual scuffle for food was interrupted by a strange stillness. One pigeon, larger than the rest, with dark, unblinking eyes, stood apart, staring at him.
“What’s your deal?” Jared muttered, tossing a crumb its way. The pigeon didn’t move. Its head tilted slightly, and for a brief moment, Jared felt as though it was studying him. He shook his head and turned toward the elevator, the soft click of talons echoing behind him longer than it should have.
The inside of Jared’s apartment was as still and quiet as ever. The occasional drop of ice cubes in the refrigerator and the faint clicks of the pipes were the only sounds separating him from the oppressive weight of total silence.
In the bathroom, Jared opened the cabinet and grabbed a fresh towel. He stripped down with a wince as his back protested the movement. Maybe skipping a post-workout stretch hadn’t been his best decision. “Yoga tomorrow,” he muttered to himself as he stepped into the shower and twisted the knob.
A shock of ice-cold water crashed onto his head and neck, forcing a gasp from his lips as his muscles tensed. His breath hitched, body shivering, before the water began to warm, cascading over him like a gentle barrage of bullets. As the tension melted from his body, a soft exhale escaped him.
The droplets were steady and rhythmic, their touch oddly comforting. Jared barely registered the thought as it passed through his mind: This is the closest thing to contact I’ve had in over a week.
Time slowed, the bathroom walls fading into the background. His eyelids slid shut, his head tilting back as the water traced rivulets down his skin. In this brief moment, Jared was alone with himself, and just for now, he didn’t hate the company. He could almost drift away, enveloped in the warmth, lost in a fragile peace.
Jared allowed the water to continue to run over his face, shutting out the world for a moment. His chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths. It’s fine, he told himself. I’m fine.
But the truth seeped through, clinging to him like the steam in the air. It wasn’t the silence he hated, it was the way it revealed things he worked so hard to ignore.
He thought of her, how she used to tease him for taking showers so hot they turned his skin red. He’d laughed it off then. Now, the memory scalded, leaving a mark deeper than the water ever could.
Then came a thud.
The sound was loud and sudden, reverberating through the shower door. Jared jolted, throwing himself to the side, his back hitting the cold tile wall. Terror gripped him as his eyes locked on the frosted glass. Through the fogged surface, a figure stood on the other side.
It mimicked him perfectly, pressed against the door, its outline indistinct but unnervingly human. Jared’s chest heaved, his breaths shallow and panicked. The figure remained motionless, a stillness so absolute it felt wrong—like staring at a statue carved from the void itself.
They stayed like that, frozen in a silent standoff. Seconds stretched into an eternity, Jared’s legs trembling as adrenaline coursed through his veins. His vision blurred, his consciousness threatening to slip away. His lungs burned as if the air had been stolen from the room.
And then, with a wrenching gasp, Jared’s awareness snapped back.
He found himself curled on the cold, wet floor of the shower, arms and legs tucked in a desperate fetal position. The figure was gone. Only the steam clinging to the glass remained.
With a shaky breath, Jared rose to his feet, shame mixing with the remnants of fear as he turned off the water. The silence crept back in as he dried himself off and completed the rest of his nightly routine, avoiding the mirror and its potential reflections.
Lying in bed, his muscles still tight from the encounter, Jared clenched his teeth. His mind swirled with questions, the memory of the almost-collision in the parking lot and the eerie figure in the shower refusing to settle.
Confusion swirled until it blurred into exhaustion, and slowly, he drifted into a restless sleep.
submitted by /u/UpsetMasterpiece5732
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