Page 14 of Don’t Watch Alone

Chapter twelve

Blaiz

The sound of the mall at night always carries a kind of emptiness, but tonight, it sinks into my skin like something toxic.

Usually, once the crowd thins out and the gates start dropping, there’s a peace that comes with it—the silence of fluorescent lights dimming, the scuffed tile shining under our tired feet, the smell of stale perfume hanging in the air—but not tonight.

Tonight, the quiet wraps around me too tight, like a warning, like a fucking premonition.

I’m supposed to be watching for Gus, hoping maybe he’ll pass by the storefront so I can confirm he’s still breathing, but instead, all I can do is watch Andy.

He hasn’t said shit since the start of my shift—not his usual bizarre comments or his creepy stares, none of the squirmy energy he usually brings into the space like an uninvited guest. He’s quiet in a way that feels intentional, programmed almost, folding clothes with sharp corners and lining up displays with an intensity that makes my nerves go wild.

Something feels wrong. All of it. He’s not just being weird—he’s being fucking disturbing.

And that silence, paired with Tony’s warning, is gnawing at my insides.

I can’t stop thinking about Gus either—how he’s suddenly my neighbor, how we heard those disturbing sounds from his apartment, and how our little dumpster dive last night came up empty.

Every bit of it twists in my insides like it’s trying to pull something out of me.

The night’s been busier than I expected, with a bunch of frantic girls tearing through the racks, looking for something tight and shiny to get them through the weekend.

It helped, the distraction. Kept me and Andy from having to speak, gave me something to focus on besides the fucking noise in my head.

Tony wanted to come up, too—called me all worked up about being alone with Andy, about the whole damn mess—but I waved him off.

I told him I’ d be fine, and for him not to give Greg a reason to fire me.

That was bullshit, of course. I wasn’t fine.

But Greg is a vulture, and I can’t risk feeding him anything extra.

Now, the mall is empty, echoing and still, and we’re moving through the motions of closing.

Andy straightens racks without saying a word to me, while I scrub the counter like it’s going to confess something if I clean it hard enough.

I can feel the weight of his silence, almost louder than noise, like it’s trying to push into me.

“Blaiz,” he says suddenly, and it nearly makes me jump. I turn, and he’s looking at me—not with that creepy little smirk he usually gives, but with this weird mix of guilt and a desperate need to act on something. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry… if I freaked you out or anything.”

I stop wiping; my hand lingers over the counter. He’s trying, sure, but it doesn’t fucking cut it. Not after yesterday. “Yeah, well, you kind of did,” I say, remaining calm, with a blank face. I’m not letting him off the hook. “What did you mean about Mary yesterday? ”

His eyes dart left, then right, like someone’s listening, like the mannequins might suddenly grow ears. He leans in slightly, dropping his voice so low it barely makes it across the counter. “I know what happened to her…”

And just like that, I stop breathing. Every hair on my arms stands up. This is it. This is where the truth is finally revealed.

But then the gate clicks open, and footsteps crash in like a warning shot.

Greg.

“Make sure this place is spotless before you leave,” he barks, already pacing like a detective, scanning the store with that same disapproving glare imprinted on his stupid face. “I walked into a disaster this morning, and I don’t want a repeat of that.”

I glance at him, then back to the counter, pretending to care about a smudge that doesn’t exist. What the hell is Greg doing here this late, anyway? He never—never—shows up past four. He’s gone before the sun even thinks about setting. So why now ?

Andy stops, that half-spoken confession dying right there in the air, vanishing like it was never real. He looks between me and Greg, something shifting behind his eyes—fear maybe, or something worse. I don’t know.

The mall tonight feels like a trap. A breathing, watching, whispering thing.

Gus, the screams, the locked door, the fucking dumpsters, Andy and his twisted knowledge, Tony pacing around in his own paranoia, and now Greg showing up unexpectedly.

I trust none of them. Not one. And as Greg stomps deeper into the store, peeking behind racks like he’s looking for bodies, I feel certain this isn’t about how clean the store is.

It’s about something else. Something he doesn’t want us to see. But what?

We step out of the store, and I watch Greg and Andy veer off in the opposite direction without so much as a glance back.

Not even a half-assed wave. Whatever. I don’t care.

I start heading toward the exit, my footsteps echoing through the quiet mall.

As I pass by the security desk, I catch sight of Gus, hunched over like usual, fiddling with something in his hands. I stop.

“Gus,” I say, not too loud. He doesn’t react.

“Gus!” I say again, sharper this time. Still nothing.

I figure he’s got his damn hearing aids off again, so I walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder.

He flinches a little and reaches up, twisting the dial behind his ear.

The hearing aid lets out a high-pitched squeal for a second before it settles.

“Hey, Gus,” I start, trying to sound casual, “I know we haven’t talked much, but I noticed last night you live right across from me.

There were some… noises coming from your apartment, and I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.

” The words taste strange coming out, especially since part of me still thinks he could be the one who took Mary.

He looks up at me, blinking slowly like he’s trying to place me, then nods. “Oh, everything was fine,” he says, his voice is frail. “My son stopped by and brought his girlfriend.”

Son? Girlfriend? So, it wasn’t just him in there last night.

Was it them yelling in the hallway? The voice I heard—it sounded like Mary—but now that I picture it, maybe it was some young couple having a late-night spat.

I glance him over again. Gus looks like a stiff breeze could knock him flat on his face.

There’s no fucking way he’s dragging someone off in the middle of the night, not without snapping a hip.

Maybe he has nothing to do with any of this.

Maybe I’ve just been seeing ghosts where there are none.

“Alright, well… have a good night, Gus,” I say, already turning to leave before the last word’s even finished. His reply—“You too”—is barely audible, swallowed up by the cavernous silence around us.

My steps sound unnaturally loud now, every slap of my shoes bouncing off the tile. The overhead lights flicker. I can still feel Gus’s presence behind me, but it’s the weight of his words that really sticks. Son. Girlfriend. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe.

But if it wasn’t him… then who the hell was it?

I think of Andy and Greg. The way they peeled off together, whispering low, their backs to me.

I am surprised Andy didn’t offer to walk me to my car, especially after closing.

That shit doesn’t sit right with me. Something’s off.

He wanted to tell me something about Mary, but it was like he was scared of Greg.

Or maybe Andy’s trying to protect me from something bigger.

A cold knot settles in my chest.

Greg’s been off since the day Mary didn’t show up.

Not concerned, not curious. Just... calm.

Like he already knew she was gone. And Andy now suddenly tagging along behind Greg like some obedient fucking puppy.

There’s something there. A secret. A lie.

A plan. My mind claws at the possibilities, and each one feels worse than the last.

I keep walking, but every inch of this damn mall feels wrong now.

Too quiet. Too empty. The storefronts stare at me like hollowed-out skulls.

Every sound I make bounces back at me. I glance over my shoulder more than once.

I can’t get rid of the feeling that someone’s watching, that someone’s waiting to see how much I know, how close I’m getting .

I pick up the pace. My heartbeat thuds in my ears, steady and loud like a war drum.

I need to get the hell out of here. I need to get to my car, get home, get to Tony.

He’s probably already at my place, maybe stirring a pot of something on the stove, with that familiar grin on his face like everything’s normal.

Like people don’t just vanish without a trace.

Tomorrow’s my day off. Thank goodness. No Greg.

No Andy. Just me and Tony and some friends at the midnight horror movie called Don’t Watch Alone.

Andy tried to spook me with one of his cryptic little warnings about it—said something bad was gonna happen.

Of course, he did. But now, walking through this haunted silence, his words hit differently. They stick to me.

Still, it’s just a movie. Just Andy being dramatic. Right?

I shove through the glass doors and step into the night.

The air hits my face it’s sharp cold and real, clearing some of the fog in my head.

The parking lot is dead quiet. I zero in on my car and make a beeline for it, my keys are clenched in my fist. All I want is to get home.

To slam the door behind me. To get home to Tony.

To pretend, if only for a few hours, that this nightmare hasn’t wrapped its fingers around all of us.

Because something is happening. I just don’t know what the hell it is yet.