Abbey Cook
Content Warning: Sexual harassment
He’s behind me, close enough that I can hear his panting. The thunderous pounding of my heart in my ears, in my pulse points, is drowned out by that sound of air drawing into his lungs, reminding me he is alive and strong and taking a deep breath before he gives chase.
I just wanted to go for a run.
Shoes crunch, bark breaks, and my lungs burn. The forest is muggy, the sky bruised grey and purple. The sun forgot to rise. If only I had just a little more light, just enough to stop picturing the man behind me as my worst fear.
Green fills my vision, mossy undergrowth and looming pine trees, postcard-picture worthy. Here, nature is beautiful, and everything is in bloom, yet all I feel is myself shrivelling inwards, like a dying flower, petals dry and crinkled like an old newspaper.
I’m not a mother, but I am a daughter. I’m not a wife, but I am a lover. I am someone who wants to be reminded how I am alive, not how easily I can die.
I wear earbuds that play no music.
His breath draws closer. My ankle rolls as I chance a glance over my shoulder, but fear has blinded me. The trees sway in a silent breeze, a bird squawks, and finally, the sun wakes.
Please leave me alone.
But you won’t, will you?
First, there is anger, at myself, at the man behind me, at the goddamn sun for failing to rise sooner. Like a child, I tell myself only bad things happen in the dark. It won’t happen to me; surely it won’t happen to me. I’m not even wearing short shorts, as if that would deter him.
I should never have gone for a run.
I can’t run anymore, but the thought of having a break makes me want to vomit. You did this to yourself.
If I were fitter. Stronger. Faster. Maybe I could still make it home.
And not become just another headline.
My keys pinch at the skin between my thumb and pointer finger. If I could work them to my advantage, maybe I could be just as scary as he is. Give him an ounce of the knee-trembling, heart-attack-inducing fear he’d given me in the space of five minutes.
Stop, please, I tell myself and him as fool’s gold showers the forest in that horrible dull yellow. I press myself against a prickly bush, my jacket rustling as I raise my head, dizzy with anticipation.
The bear pauses briefly. Wild brown eyes meet mine before it turns its great head with a snort and continues past me.
A smile threatens to break my face, relief as heady as smelling salts flooding my veins.
It was just a bear.
Thank god, it was only just a bear.
Author Bio: Abbey Cook (she/her) is a writer of all things fantasy, thriller, and romance. She lives in Victoria, Australia, and has written four books since graduating from university in 2018. Abbey has a Bachelor of Arts degree, majoring in Literature and minoring in Creative Writing. When she’s not writing or reading, she’s either watching Korean dramas or working at her local bakery.
Abbey is passionate about helping fellow writers navigate the publishing industry and has an Instagram where she provides helpful tips from her own experiences; @abbey.withanewriter
Artist Bio: Phoenix Sunrider (they/she) is an aspiring author with several works in the making. They love all kinds of animals, and add as many as possible into all their works whether that be high fantasy, magical realism, or even fan fiction. They currently have no social media platforms, but hope to develop some when more work is completed.
Edited by: Elly LaRoche and Ricky Jade