Page 3 of Into the Dark, We Go

"I just wanted to talk," I continued.

"I don’t have much time. The game’s about to start." It felt like an excuse to brush me off. There were still a good ten minutes left.

"I know. I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I needed you to know."

His expression softened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I love you too." He smiled and glanced above my head at something in the distance. He seemed more distracted than usual. "Let’s talk later, okay? After the game."

"Okay," I forced a smile despite my worry. "Go get ‘em."

"Always do," he replied, and the wink he gave me when he turned away stirred butterflies in my stomach.

And then I noticed?—

"Hey, where’re your lucky socks?" They were his talisman, his charm; he wore them religiously.

"Don’t need ‘em!" He smiled, and confidence rolled off him like the wind over the field as he disappeared into the locker room.

It was weird. He always wore them during games. And although he told me he loved me, the tension in my stomach wouldn’t ease.

The crowd vibrated with anticipation. My friends were already seated on the bleachers, chatting eagerly before the game started. I desperately wanted to join in their carefree conversation, to shake off the horrible feeling that it was already too late, but I couldn’t.

Sarah noticed my awkwardness and stood to greet me with a peck on the cheek. "How did it go?"

I nodded slightly without going into much detail. My best hope was to see Lucas after the game.

By the second half, the opposing team was struggling. With three injuries and two substitutes, they were dead on their feet. Sarah nudged me, pointing towards my boyfriend. At least, I hoped he still was.

"What’s up with that?"

Lucas was awkwardly stretching his arm around, and his face contorted in a wince. Every twist and turn of his torso seeming to cause him pain. He favored his left side, as if his shoulder blade was bruised or worse.

My body stiffened at the sight. I feared he’d been injured and was pushing through it. He was notorious for that. But then he brushed it off, dodging a tackle, turning a short pass into a long gain, and breaking free for a 40-yard dash. He was unstoppable.

The other team never stood a chance.

I lingered for a while after the game to spend time with the girls. The team was most likely celebrating, and I wanted to give Lucas some space to enjoy himself, to show him I understood he had other priorities, and to let him know I was okay with that.

The stadium slowly emptied,the crowd dispersing like a cloud of spores. I watched the team exit the field, a knot of dread tightening with every disappearing player. Lucas was nowhere to be seen. The sound of celebrations in the distance suddenly felt hollow. Had he left already? Was he trying to avoid me? Was he with that girl from earlier?

No, he wouldn’t do that. We had a ritual we’d stuck to for the past two years: I’d attend every one of Lucas’s games, and afterwards, we’d meet up at the old concession stand by the east exit. It didn’t matter if he had plans or commitments.

I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail.

I hurried along the sidelines, where players often celebrated their wins. My eyes darted back and forth, searching for his silhouette.

"Did you see where number twelve went?" I asked a water boy collecting bottles from the bench.

He pointed half-heartedly at the entrance. "No idea. He was here just a second ago." Without waiting for my response, he turned back to picking up trash.

There was no way I’d missed Lucas. I’d watched the team leave.

The stadium lights started to dim, gradually plunging the field into heavy darkness. I headed toward the still-illuminated entrance, feeling the vast, empty space draw close as a lover.

The fluorescent lamps flickered out, and the tunnel vanished. Cold air seemed to move of its own accord, a chill sweeping down and then up. I stilled and strained my ears for any other sound—a locker slamming, a muttered curse, anything. I tried Lucas’s phone again, but it remained stubbornly off.

Then it came: a movement from the dark, a quiet rustle like dead leaves. My breath hitched.