The bus ride home is similar to any other. It drags into the night and whines as it drops Olive off 2 blocks from her building. An elderly woman gets off ahead of her and turns down the avenue leaving Olive to navigate the short stretch of 10th street on her own. To her left, the familiar park now seems too vast with a chain link fence obscuring the starless terrain.

On high alert, Olive strides home clutching her bag in one hand, keys braced between the fingers of the other. All around her, shadows mock her shaken state. The familiar route is now a corridor of danger. The cracks in the road, the crevices between buildings, and even her own shadow display an unsettling depth. She counts her steps making a habit of shifting her eyes and watching her periphery. For once, she regrets taking the back route to her place. It’s quieter than most and tonight, the cooing of pigeons mixed with distant car horns plague her senses, reminding her just how alone she is.

Olive welcomes the blue glow of the security light above her building's back door as she approaches. She uses the keys that have indented themselves in her hand and enters through the kitchen. She shuffles through the dark coffee shop and to the apartment stairs, climbing 2 at a time. 

Once in the safety of her apartment, she allows herself to breathe for the first time since the attack. She doesn't bother to turn on the lights before reality hits her harder than gravity.

Oh my god. I was attacked. 

I. Was. Attacked.

Olive begins hyperventilating, placing both hands on the sides of her head like she's trying to hold herself from falling apart. 

That smell…ugh..I could still feel his breath crawling up my cheek, his hands exploring places they weren't invited.

Olive swallows down the bile rising in her throat as a shiver runs down her spine.

What would have happened if… what COULD have happened if She wasn't there? 

Olive's mind turns the rapid mental images black as they flash forward in desperation to fuel her anxiety. In war with itself, her psyche works to protect as it attacks, and continues to spin. 

Another train of thought escapes her clutches. 

What world am I living in where there are people who actually fight the bad guys? 

With a sword!? 

Who was she? What are the chances she was there at the right time一across town from where we met? 

Olive’s heart flutters in a different rhythm, risen from its sunken state, if only for a moment. 

Was she following me? Is she some self proclaimed vigilante? Is she dangerous too? 

Olive’s train of thought veers off into full derailment. 

Of course she is dangerous! She had a sword! I… I need to call the police! Yeah. And tell them…tell them what exactly?

Dammit Olive! This woman probably needs help and you are painting her into this knight in shining armor. Don’t be so pathetically desperate for excitement in your life. Nothing will come of it.

Olive, with her hands still gripping her head, paces in full panic. She toes the border where the kitchen bleeds into the living area. Back and forth, the swish-swish of tension between her corduroy pants thrums. It harmonizes with the old refrigerator motor and news chopper passing overhead.

Perched on his cat-tree throne, Riley lets out a long exasperated meow that adds to the symphony of stress thickening the atmosphere. 

The wail stops Olive in her tracks.

For a fraction of a second, she comes to her senses. She pulls out her phone with the intent to dial someone…anyone but, to her chagrin, her phone is dead. Screaming, she slams it on the counter and bursts into tears. 

She slides onto the floor beside the kitchen counter, kicks her legs out limply, and drops her arms to her side. Hot buckets of tears flow down her face. She stays like this for seconds or hours she doesn’t know. She cannot remember the last time she allowed herself to cry this heavily so she continues. 

Olive recalls a passage from Alice in Wonderland, her favorite childhood story, as she gazes at the black-and-white tiled floor. If she flooded the room with her sorrows, would she swim or drown?

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?” 

As her limbs grow numb, she contemplates letting go, sinking into the abyss until Riley lets out another whine. 

In other words, he’s hungry and completely over the dramatic display of human existence. 

“Well fuck you too sir!” Olive sniffs with a hint of a smile lining her puffy cheeks.

She pulls herself up and fills Riley’s bowl before heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth and charge her phone. She decides against calling May; against ruining what was a perfect, wonderful day for her. She holds onto that spec of power; the power to protect her sister’s peace. 

Olive uses her last ounce of energy to take a hot shower and scrub her demons away. Once she is warm under the sheets and blankets, she releases a tension she didn’t even know she was holding. 

You are okay.

She allows herself to do a full body check in, starting with her toes and ending with her temples.

I am okay.

She does this once more before allowing exhaustion to take over and carry her into a void of sleep.

I am…