Tracy's nerves are a storm barely contained as she steps into the party. The music thrums through the walls, but it's the people who threaten to unravel her.
The room is packed, each person radiating a confidence that makes her feel like she's drowning, like she's suffocating. She clutches her bag to her chest, fingers digging into the fabric as if it can anchor her in this overwhelming sea of strangers. She moves awkwardly, trying to blend in, to become invisible, but the weight of every glance presses down on her, harsh and unforgiving.
Across the room, Bryan Hemmings stands like a sun in his own orbit, surrounded by admirers whose laughter and admiration cling to him like a second skin. His charisma lights up the space, a magnetic force that draws everyone in, including Tracy, who can't help but watch him. She knows she can't get too close; the thought of it makes her stomach churn with a sickening anticipation of failure. She retreats to the edge of the room, hovering near the snack table, a shadow among shadows. Maybe if she just watches him long enough, she'll understand what makes him so perfect, so unattainable.
But even in the shadows, she can't escape her own clumsiness. As she reaches for a chip, her hand bumps into someone—a girl in a shimmering dress that hugs her curves perfectly. The girl's eyes flick over Tracy with a mix of irritation and faint amusement, as if Tracy is something insignificant, something to be brushed aside.
"Watch where you're going," the girl snaps, her voice cold and sharp. Before Tracy can stammer out an apology, the girl is gone, her interest already elsewhere.
Tracy's face burns with shame. She shoves the chip into her mouth, trying to choke down the embarrassment that's threatening to consume her. Her eyes find Bryan again, as if he's the only thing grounding her in this nightmare. He's laughing with his friends, his smile so easy, so natural. She wants to disappear, to fade into nothingness, anything to escape the relentless feeling of inadequacy gnawing at her insides.
Desperate to distract herself, Tracy forces herself to mingle with a nearby group of strangers. But her words come out wrong—awkward, stilted, the sentences stumbling over themselves in her mouth. The music drowns out half of what she says, and what little they do hear is met with polite, strained smiles. She catches a few glances thrown her way—pity? Amusement? The uncertainty eats away at her, hollowing her out.
In a last-ditch effort to salvage the night, she reaches for a drink. But her hands, cursed with clumsiness, knock over a bowl of punch. The bright red liquid spills across the table and onto the floor, and the room goes silent. The silence is suffocating, a blanket of judgment that wraps around her as everyone turns to stare at the mess she's made.
"Are you okay?" someone asks, but their voice is detached, more curious than concerned. They're watching her like a specimen, waiting to see how much more she'll humiliate herself.
Tracy stammers an apology, her voice barely above a whisper, and grabs napkins, her hands shaking as she tries to clean up the mess. But the punch keeps spreading, a garish stain that mirrors the embarrassment seeping into every corner of her being. She glances up, her eyes desperate for reassurance, and for a fleeting moment, Bryan's gaze meets hers. There's a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps surprise or intrigue? But just as quickly, he turns back to his friends, leaving her standing there, heart racing, determination igniting within her.
Her heart sinks, and the humiliation crashes over her like a wave, pulling her under. She needs to escape, to get out before she completely falls apart. As she turns to leave, she bumps into Josh, one of Bryan's friends, and her stomach twists with dread.
"Sorry, I didn't—" she begins, her voice trembling, but Josh just waves her off, his eyes barely masking his irritation.
"It's fine," he says, but the words are dismissive, his tone a clear message that she's not worth his time. "Just watch where you're going."
Her face burns even hotter, the shame suffocating as she flees from the room. The cool night air is a slap to her senses, but it does nothing to cleanse the overwhelming sense of failure clinging to her like a second skin. She walks home, each step heavy with regret, her mind replaying every humiliating moment in an endless loop.
She wanted to be noticed, to be something more than a shadow in the background, but instead, she's become the night's biggest embarrassment. Yet the flicker in Bryan's eyes lingers in her thoughts, igniting a spark of obsession that fuels her determination. As she trudges through the empty streets, the harsh reality settles deep in her bones: Tracy is meant to remain in the shadows, forever fading into obscurity, but with every step, she vows to find a way to break free.
When she reaches her apartment, she leans against the door, her heart still racing. That brief moment of connection with Bryan ignites something within her—a fierce desire to be more than what she's always been. She feels a thrill of excitement as she imagines him noticing her, really noticing her, and the thought sends a shiver down her spine.
What will it take to be seen? To step out of the shadows and into the light?
Tracy collapses onto her bed, her mind spinning with possibilities. What if she changed her appearance? What if she approached him next time? The idea consumes her, transforming her embarrassment into determination. She will be someone he notices, someone he wants to talk to. The thought fills her with a renewed sense of purpose.
But as she lies there, lost in daydreams of Bryan and their potential future, a loud crash echoes from the alley behind her apartment. Startled, she jumps up and rushes to the window, peering out into the darkness. The street is dimly lit, but she can see figures moving around in the shadows. Her heart races again, but this time it's not from embarrassment.
What is happening out there?
Her curiosity piqued, Tracy presses her forehead against the glass, straining to see more. As she scans the alley, her heart sinks. There, amidst the chaos, is a group of teenagers, their faces twisted in anger. Bryan is among them, his hands raised, trying to diffuse the situation.
Why is he out there? What if something happens to him?
Panic surges through her, but as quickly as it comes, she pushes it down. She can't get involved. Not now. Not when she's barely held together herself. But the thought of Bryan, possibly in danger, sends a rush of adrenaline through her veins.
What if this is her chance to be seen? What if she could step into that chaos and make a difference? But the fear of humiliation washes over her again, a familiar wave that almost keeps her frozen in place.
She looks out again and sees that the fight had already died down and the people involved were splitting up and dwindling, she breathe a sign of relief, how did they get here anyways, were they following her? Did Bryan stopped them, oh wait were they trying to hurt her and Bryan stopped them? She thought once again as she squealed into her pillow further fuelling her delusions while thinking to herself that she must do better to get Bryan's attention.
YOU ARE READING
The Devil Doesn't Bargain
Mystery / Thriller"Good morning," Bryan's voice was low and heavy with sleep, and it only served to deepen the ache in her heart. As tears began to well up in her eyes, Bryan's face shifted from warmth to deep concern. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did I do something...
