The Route

Chapter 2: Under the Bridge

The night it happened is the most vivid memory I will ever have. I can recall every moment of it, and it haunts me every day.

It was a Sunday, and I had just finished my second show of the day. As I stepped out the backstage door into the frigid January air, I checked my phone for the time. 11:39 PM. It was pretty late, but I decided to take The Route home anyway. I needed to clear my head.

I criss-crossed through alleys and dark, moonlit trails on my way to Central Park. I had a slight skip to my step as I was trying to get home quickly. The later it got, the creepier. I grew more paranoid every time I took The Route. Even a rustle from bunny in the bushes would make me jump. Yet, I still took The Route every single night.

I was about to turn the corner into a shortcut under the bridge, when a notification chimed into my phone, startling me. I stopped walking and pulled it out of my pocket. Squinting at the bright screen, I could tell it was a text from Bea. Apparently, our friends Jay, Allie, Suki, and Gisel had come over. I remember thinking, Yay! Another reason to get home faster! Homeward bound.

I turned the corner, expecting to see the homeless man that lived under the bridge. He was there every night, always begging me for money. I closed my eyes, preparing myself to smell him, see him, and turn away from him like always.

I had barely moved a few inches when I ran into something hard. I flung my eyes open to see the old homeless man, standing right in front of me, blocking my way. His long, beige coat covered in dirt, his breath that reeked of liquor, his long, shaggy beard that made him look like Santa gone bad. I hated everything about him, but here he was, standing mere centimeters away from me.

"S-sorry sir..." I stuttered. I stepped to the right to go around him, but he stepped with me in unison, like he knew I was going to do that. What the heck? At this point I wasn't scared, I was just weirded out. I tried stepping to the left and he did it again. What was he trying to do?! "Excuse me sir, I need to get around y-" He cut me off with his hand before I could finish.

"I know what you need, Lassy." His voice was raspy, almost as if he were hissing at me. He was obviously Irish, and I could hear his accent clearly. "I know what you need, Alayna Gambold."

You could see the breath of air puff out of my mouth as I took in what he had just said. "How do you know my name?" I whispered, fear taking over.

"Everyone who's anyone in New York knows your name, Lassy. You're a star. You're moderately rich, have a home, a bed, food and water. Yet, you stars never seem to give back to the people like me," He spat at my shoes.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I hid it. "I'll have you know, I am a very charitable person. 10% of my show's earnings are going to charity." I lifted my head in pride and started to walk away, hoping he was standing there, looking awestruck or defeated. I turned back one last time, only to see something that chilled me to the bone: nothing. I frantically swiveled around, praying that he was gone. Then I fled.

I ran towards the end of the bridge, the warm glow of the street lamps on the other side in sight. I started to relax and think I would finally be OK, until I felt a sharp, painful tug at my ponytail. I whipped around to see the gangly "Lassy-Man" smiling eerily at me. I tried to run, but he grabbed my waist and pulled me back. I wailed and screamed, begging him to let me go. He wouldn't budge. I tried to yell for help, but nothing came out. All I felt was something hard hit the back of my head, and a grimy hand clasp over my mouth. Then darkness. Complete and utter darkness.