Lingering Unease

The crunch of gravel under the tires was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. It was the sound of civilization, the sound of safety, the sound of home. The car, my dad’s beat-up SUV, felt like a sanctuary, a metal cocoon separating us from the suffocating darkness we had just escaped. Beside me, Mark was staring out the window, his jaw tight, his usual jokes silenced. Behind us, Robin clutched her worn locket, her eyes wide and unfocused, as if she were still seeing the shadows that had clawed at our heels.

“Are we… are we really out?” Mark’s voice was rough, barely a whisper.

My dad, his face etched with a worry that had deepened considerably since he’d picked us up at the edge of the woods, nodded, his gaze flicking to the rearview mirror as if expecting something to burst from the tree line. “You’re out. You’re safe.”