PARACIDE

Chapter 6: Safe Space

The walk back from the store was quiet at first, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but just… there. Sam kept glancing at the sidewalks, the trees, the sky—anything but Jen. His forehead still throbbed with that same dull ache, but he did his best to shove it aside. What stuck out to him more was the lack of tension in his chest.

Last time, on his own, the streets had felt different—dangerous. That group of punks had come out of nowhere, circling him, and everything had spiraled. But now, walking with Jen beside him, that edge was missing. It was stupid, he thought. There was no real reason to feel safer with her around. She wasn’t exactly intimidating or anything. But still, the streets didn’t feel as hostile today. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Or maybe it was just his dumb brain, tricking him into believing she was some kind of safety net. A safe space.

Jen glanced over at him, catching him staring at the pavement. “You good? You’ve been weirdly quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Sam said quickly, not wanting to draw attention to his thoughts. He kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, the bags of groceries hanging at his sides like weights. “Just thinking about stuff.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Thinking’s overrated. Too much thinking is bad for your health, y’know.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, maybe.”

They passed by the alley where the punks had jumped him last time, and Sam’s eyes flickered toward it instinctively. Empty. No lurking figures, no mocking jeers, no sneering faces ready to tear him apart. He’d half-expected to see them again, but nothing.

His chest loosened a little more, like a knot had been untied.

“Hey, you’re doing it again,” Jen said, snapping him out of his head. “Spacing out. What’s up with you?”

Sam shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just... nothing. I don’t know.”

Jen sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. “You’re a real open book, Sam. Super easy to read.”

He felt a twinge of embarrassment but couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto his face. It was weird, walking with her like this. Normally, he wouldn’t feel this comfortable. Normally, he’d have his guard up. But with Jen, he didn’t feel the need to keep his walls so high. Maybe it was because she didn’t push too hard. She joked and teased, but she didn’t pry. She didn’t demand explanations or force him to spill his guts.

He caught himself thinking that being around her felt... safe. That was the part that scared him.

What if his mind was just tricking him into thinking she was a safe space? A buffer between him and everything else, like the punks or the memories of home. And what if she wasn’t? What if he got close to her and something happened—something like in the nightmare? What if he hurt her?

“Hey.” Jen’s voice broke through his thoughts again. “You’re not secretly plotting my demise over there, are you? You’ve got that serial killer stare going on.”

Sam blinked, snapping back to the present. “What? No. Definitely not.”

She smirked, clearly pleased with herself. “Good, because I was starting to get worried. What’s on your mind, then?”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. How was he supposed to explain any of this? The fact that he felt safer with her around, but that very feeling freaked him out? The fact that his head was pounding like someone was jabbing him with a needle over and over again?

“Just… stuff from back home,” he muttered eventually. It wasn’t a complete lie.

Jen glanced at him, her smirk fading a little. “Yeah, I get it.”

She didn’t push further, which Sam was grateful for. He wasn’t ready to talk about his home life—not the real version of it, at least. He didn’t even know how he’d explain it. How do you explain a nightmare you keep running from?

They continued walking in relative silence, but it wasn’t the heavy kind. It was like they’d found an unspoken agreement not to dig too deep. Jen kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk, sending it bouncing down the path, and Sam couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this moment was okay. No threats, no fights, no nightmares clawing at the edges of his mind.

When they reached the house, Jen turned to him with a cocky grin. “See? Told you a little fresh air wouldn’t kill you.”

Sam smirked back, feeling a little more at ease. “Yeah, well... thanks, I guess.”

She punched him lightly on the arm. “You’re welcome, loser. Now, help me carry this stuff inside before my mom thinks we’ve been kidnapped or something.”

As Sam followed her inside, a small part of him started to wonder if maybe he could let himself believe—just for a little while—that she really was a safe space. Even if it was temporary. Even if it wasn’t real.

For now, he let himself pretend it was.