[11:45pm]
Max:
still awake?
Erica:
yeah. can't sleep. u?
Max:
same. thinking about u.
Erica:
you're smooth.
Max:
nah, just honest.
i like talking to you. feels different.
Erica:
it does. like i'm not pretending.
Max:
let's meet tomorrow? for real. just us.
Erica:
like... a date?
Max:
yeah. our first official one. you in?
Erica:
i'm in.
She stared at the screen long after the chat ended, heart pounding against her ribs like it wanted out. A date. An actual date.
She didn't sleep much that night. Not from fear - but because happiness was such a rare guest in her life that she didn't want to close her eyes and risk losing it.
Awesome - here's the continuation of Chapter Four, flowing naturally into the next day as Erica gets ready for what she believes is her first real date:
---
The morning sun spilled through her window like a quiet promise. Erica turned over, phone still in hand, Max's last message glowing softly on the screen.
"Our first official one."
She smiled.
By noon, she was pacing in front of her closet, trying on outfit after outfit - nothing too loud, nothing too plain. She settled on a soft blue dress, the kind that made her feel like herself. Not the bruised girl who'd learned to shrink, but the girl who was still capable of wanting.
Her reflection in the mirror startled her. She looked... happy. And that scared her a little.
She walked into the living room, bag slung over her shoulder. Her parents were watching TV.
"Heading out?" her dad asked without looking away from the screen.
"Yeah," Erica said, slipping on her shoes. "Meeting a friend."
Her mother looked up, studying her a second longer than usual. "New friend?"
Erica hesitated. "Sort of. From college."
Her mom nodded, as if that explained everything. "Okay. Don't be out too late."
"I won't," she promised.
But she never came home that night.
-
The sun dipped lower as Erica arrived at the spot Max had sent - an old lot near the closed-down theater. Quiet. Private.
He just doesn't like crowded places, she reminded herself. Neither do I.
She checked her phone.
No new messages.
A few more steps into the lot. A breath. Then another.
She was early.
She looked up at the sky, painted in dusk colors. A smile tugged at her lips - the kind of smile that dared to believe something good could happen. She imagined him walking up behind her, maybe nervous like her. Maybe holding flowers, or maybe just holding eye contact a little too long.
That's when the hand came.
Rough. Fast. Pressing a cloth against her mouth.
The smell hit first. Then the fear.
Her knees buckled. The world tilted. Her scream dissolved into a void she couldn't claw her way out of.
Darkness swallowed her whole.