7. Frankie

"How's that self-control treating you?"Andy teases, her voice slicing through the stillness of the night just as I let the last tendrils of my shadows release the unconscious student. The shadows, extensions of my own will, slink back into the pool of darkness at my feet, disappearing without a trace. As they vanish, a fleeting sense of loss washes over me. The echo of their embrace leaves a whisper of cold in the air. It's a reminder of the power I wield, thrilling yet isolating, a secret dance between light and shadow to which only I know the steps.

Turning to face Andy, I catch my breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline ebb away, replaced by a familiar emptiness. My heart races from the thrill and fear of what I am capable of. Propping my hands defiantly on my hips, I stride toward her, the crunch of gravel under my boots punctuating the eerie silence. The scent of damp earth and the distant murmur of the town's nightlife swirl around us.

I force a snort of disdain. "Not sorry," I declare, the words a shield against my own doubts, their resonance more defiant than confident.

"Good. Wouldn't want you to be," she replies, nodding toward the guy sprawled across the cracked asphalt of her parking lot. The area, barely lit by a solitary, flickering lamp post, casts elongated shadows that move with the occasional breeze. The flicker of the lamp creates a play of light and shadow, giving the scene a spectral quality. "I'd expect any of my girls to do the same."

My girls.The words warm a cold corner of my heart, but I won't let her see that. I nod, focusing on calming my racing heart, the faint smell of Andy's familiar lavender perfume grounding me momentarily.

"Frankie?" The voice slices through the tension, Leo's figure forming a long shadow over Andy.

She doesn't budge, her gaze flicking to me. "Shall I let him out or kick him out the front?"

Peering up, I find Leo standing quietly behind her, the moonlight casting his face in sharp relief. It highlights a deep furrow of concern between his brows, transforming his carefree smile into a tight, worried line. His eyes, usually a vibrant ocean blue, now seem stormy and dark, clouded with apprehension. The shift is subtle but telling, revealing a depth of worry for me that feels as warm as it is unnerving.

"Let him through," I concede, knowing full well he'd find a way to me regardless. Shrugging off the stickiness of spilled beer, I fantasize about knocking the guy out all over again just for wasting beer. Hell, I don't even know his name.

"Go home, Frankie. I've got this," Andy says, stepping aside, signaling the end of another night. She's good for it, always trying to take care of the few employees she has. Her stern yet caring voice, tinged with the fatigue of another night, rings true and steady.

Leo moves past her, his eyes darkening at the sight of the downed student. "He's still breathing," I assure him, though Andy's chuckle is the last thing I hear before she lets the door close, leaving us alone.

"I was worried about you," Leo admits, his voice holding a cautious edge as he joins me, the bench creaking in protest under his weight. "Not him."

"It's not the first time, and it won't be the last," I deflect, feeling the weight of being an outsider in this town settle around me, but his determination stirs something inside me. "I can handle myself."

"I noticed," he whispers, letting silence wrap around us. In this silence, I feel an unsettling calm.

My heartbeat steadies, and a profound feeling of emptiness unfurls within me, filling the spaces left by fading adrenaline with a hollow echo of solitude. My attention is irresistibly drawn to the bar's entrance, beyond which lies a world bathed in a soft, golden glow. Through the fogged glass, snippets of laughter and the melodious rise and fall of carefree conversations escape into the night. The light from within casts long, inviting shadows that play upon the threshold, marking the line between my shadowed world and their radiant one. It's a siren's call to a place where spirits are lifted and hearts are light, yet to me, it underscores a poignant contrast—a beacon of what I long for but feel undeserving of.

This laughter, this light, doesn't just illuminate. It highlights the chasm of experiences that separates me from them. I stand on the precipice, caught in the gravity of their world yet forever orbiting outside it, an observer longing to step into the warmth but tethered to the darkness by invisible chains of my own making.

I crave to join them, but I'm stuck in the shadows that give me power.

This yearning isn't something new. It's like a constant buzz in the background of my life, filled with almosts and what-ifs. Tonight, though, it hits harder. The laughter and light from inside the bar feel like they are both soothing and taunting me at the same time. I wish I could just step through that door, bask in the light, and shake off the darkness that's like a second skin to me, but deep down, I know that even surrounded by them, I'd still feel out of place, different, and alone.

This realization is heavy, a kind of sorrow that's become a part of me. Recognizing this gap, though, also brings a weird kind of comfort—a reluctant acceptance of being on the edge. For now, I'm okay with just watching, listening, and dreaming from the sidelines, guarding my heart and my secrets, and somehow finding a bit of peace in my own company.

Even though the school offers me a bed to sleep on and a roof over my head, I don't know if I can even bring myself to go back on campus tonight. The thought of the sterile dorm room makes me feel even more disconnected.

"You okay?" Leo's touch sends shivers down my arm, his concern breaking through my resolve. The warmth of his hand contrasts sharply with the cool night air.

"Yeah," I lie and swallow my emotions, hopping off the picnic table. Running my sweaty palms down my jeans, I give Leo what I hope is a reassuring smile. "I'm just going to head out." I know Andy will clock me out and put my tips in my lock box. I have everything I need on my person. I always do. The keys jingle softly in my pocket, a comforting, familiar sound.

"Let me walk you to your car," he offers, his posture relaxed yet filled with a quiet intensity.

"No need." The words escape with more venom than I intended, a defense mechanism flaring up whenever I feel cornered. "I can handle it," I say, trying to sound softer.

Leo's expression shifts from concerned to hurt in an instant, and the sight twists a familiar knot of guilt in my chest. I berate myself silently. Why do I push away people who reach out? Part of me cynically wonders how long he'd stay interested before leaving like the rest.

"I know you can. I just want to make sure you're safe," he says, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity that makes me pause, even in my resolve to keep him at a distance.

"I'm sure Chloe is waiting," I add, the words tasting like vinegar on my tongue. "And your friend."

Leo pauses, a mix of confusion and hurt dancing in his ocean blue eyes. His concern, so raw and genuine, is such a stark contrast to the skepticism that's become my armor. "I just want to make sure you're alright," he insists, his voice softening, trying to bridge the gap I've put between us.

"I'm alright," I assure him, attempting to infuse a warmth I don't fully feel into my voice. The effort falls flat, my words sounding hollow even to my own ears. When I see the hurt flash across Leo's face, I'm reminded of the walls I've built, not just around my heart, but around my very being. They are meant to protect me, yet here they are, isolating me once more.

"Just... text me when you get back, okay?" he asks, reaching for his phone in his back pocket.

"I don't have a phone," I admit, feeling bare. I tuck my hands into my back pockets, the stickiness of the beer drying on my skin, making me itch to move. I'll need another shower soon.

"Leo?" Chloe's voice is my cue to leave. "There you are, Leo. We've been looking everywhere for you," she says, her tone dripping with insincerity. Her gaze flicks dismissively over me, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, Frankie, still playing the tough girl? I would have thought you'd have learned your place by now."

Leo steps forward, his body tensing. "Chloe, that's enough," he says, but she waves him off, her eyes alight with malicious glee.

"Why, Leo? It's just Frankie. Not like she matters, right?" Chloe's words are venomous, each syllable designed to wound. "Running off to play hero for the bar brawler? I'm surprised you're not tired of this charade."

I feel a tightness in my chest, the air around me suddenly too thin. Leo's voice, firm and protective, barely registers. "Chloe, stop. This isn't you."

But it is her, and her words cut deeper than she knows. The weight of her disdain and the years of being on the outside looking in all become too much. Without a word, I turn, letting the night swallow me whole. Leo calls after me, his voice laced with worry, but Chloe's laughter echoes louder in my ears.

I don't look back, not as I step over the unconscious student and not as I round the corner, heading to my Jeep. As soon as they can't see me, I feel a sense of calm that rushes over me, sinking into my bones.

A slight breeze rolls off the ocean and blows through my hair, chilling my sweaty skin. The streetlamps flicker overhead, their soft glow stretching the shadows on the ground. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I look back, noting just how alone I am, and I let the shadows creep up my legs like an inky fog. They swirl around me, greeting me with a hug. I hold my hand out, and they weave between my fingers and then up and over my arms.

For the first time today, a genuine smile stretches across my face.

I let my shadows do their thing as my Docs crack over the gravel road that stretches along the coast. The faint, salty breeze of the ocean lingers in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the gravel beneath my feet. Andy doesn't like us parking in the small lot, so she lets us park in her driveway. She only lives a block away in this fifteen-minute city, where everything feels close yet so far when shrouded in my solitude.

I can just make out my red Jeep when my shadows try to tug me in another direction—back the way I came. The pull is insistent, like a whisper of caution carried on the wind. Nope, not happening today. I push through despite the shadows wrapping around my legs, causing me to pause on the street just feet from my Jeep. They are acting as though they don't want me to go to the Jeep, which is strange.

"I just want to shower," I whisper to the defiant shadows. They've never done this before, which is odd. I plant my feet and refuse to move forward or backward. The night air cools my skin, raising goosebumps as the shadows cling to me. Slowly, bit by bit, they peel back from my legs, but then they do the darndest thing—they wrap around me head to toe, making me appear as though I'm a walking, talking shadow. I didn't know I could do that.

As I fumble with the keys, I let my senses stretch out into the night, feeling for the familiar pull of the shadows. It's a technique I've honed over the years, learning to differentiate between mere darkness and the sentient shadows that respond to my call. Tonight, they seem restless, a reflection of my own unease. The soft murmur of the sea clashes with my racing thoughts, enhancing the tension that tightens my chest.

The absence of the Jeep's top, because I ran late, suddenly feels like an ominous oversight—one I know better than to make. Settling into the driver's seat, I try to draw a comforting veil of darkness around the Jeep, a simple trick that makes the interior shadows obey my whim, creating a makeshift barrier, but the shadows are sluggish tonight, their reaction time slower, a reminder of my own limits. My control over them isn't absolute. Fatigue, emotions, and the natural balance of night itself influence our connection. The ignition roars to life, cutting through my concentration, and the headlights scatter the shadows, reminding me of their aversion to light, another rule in the complex relationship between my powers and the world.

Amidst the interplay of light and dark, a solitary figure emerges, leaning nonchalantly against a building as if awaiting a clandestine rendezvous. My heart stutters as adrenaline surges through my veins—not just at the sight, but at the implications of recognition in this unexpected tableau.

"Matteo?" His name escapes my lips in a whisper. Remarkably, he acknowledges my hushed call with a simple nod before disappearing into the alley's embrace. A rush of questions cascades through my mind, each more perplexing than the last.

What the fuck?

Fear spikes in my chest at the thought that he saw my shadows and he knows there's something off about me. Maybe that's why they tried to tug me back toward the bar. No, I'm being ridiculous. Laughing at myself, I pull away from the driveway, thinking of all the places where I can sleep off the island. That is a bigger issue.

I know exactly where to go though. It's on the island, which I should be able to access if Tori is out and about. Even though she has a key to the boom, her mom won't lock it down until everyone is over the bridge, safe and sound. Destination in mind, I let my thoughts wander.

Two years. That's how long I've been here, and I have almost ten thousand in cash hidden in the safe in my new dorm room. That's the other reason I wanted to get on campus as early as I can. Most of the students come from money, rich peons with their futures planned out for them before they were even a thought to their parents.

Me? I have a name. That's all. Just a name and a birth certificate that I don't even have access to—locked away in a vault I didn't even know existed until I received an acceptance letter to a school I didn't even apply for. I can't access it until I graduate. If I access it at all. The only thing I know is that after graduation, I'll have even more nothing than I have right now. Sure, I'll have a diploma, but that's it. I'll be homeless again.

I save every penny I make at the Grotto and shove it into my safe. I can't even get a bank account without my birth certificate, so cash it is, and luckily, Andy doesn't mind paying under the table.

The bridge to the island stretches before me, and as luck would have it, the boom is up. Breathing a sigh of relief, I cross the bridge and head for the opposite side of the island, where there is a small cove.

It's my favorite place. Sometimes the students head there, but for the most part, they leave it alone, save for nights when they want to party on the island. The administrators let it happen because they are on the island, as safe as they can be, but the waves outside the cove are rough, and the cave that opens up is off-limits.

The Jeep's tires crunch against the sand, stirring a gentle echo in the quiet cove. Here, the ambient sound of the ocean's incessant roar is both a lullaby and a wild call. The salty air fills my lungs, mingling with the subtle tang of seaweed and brine. It's refreshing, a sharp contrast to the stuffy, confined spaces back in town.

Parking beside a large rock, a natural sentinel of this secluded spot, I kill the engine, and sudden silence envelops me like a thick blanket. Shadows immediately wrap around the Jeep, drawn to the absence of light, their presence both comforting and foreboding.

Stepping out, I feel the cool sand beneath my boots, the grains sticking to the damp leather. The shadows stretch toward the surf, twisting and turning in a dance with the moonlight that bathes the beach in a silvery glow. The waves crash against the shore in rhythmic beats, a constant, pulsing reminder of the island's isolation and my own.

The path to the cave is familiar, each rock and incline a testament to the countless times I've sought its sanctuary. As I navigate the terrain, a mix of anticipation and relief courses through me. The cave, with its stoic entrance and the promise of darkness within, beckons like an old friend. It's in this shadowed beauty, this blend of nature's starkness and grace, that I feel most at home.

Descending into the cave, I brush my hands against the cool, damp stone, a tactile anchor in the growing darkness. Each step takes me farther from the world outside and deeper into a realm where I am not defined by my struggles or my differences. Here, in the soft embrace of darkness, the moon's glow a distant memory, I am free from the gazes of those who can't see beyond the surface.

When I was little, I used to be terrified of the dark. Hell, any little girl would be terrified of the dark if they didn't have a caring parent to show them otherwise. All I had were shitty foster dads who never really kept me safe, but then, one night, that all changed. Now, I feel safe. Everything changed the night I stopped fighting the dark and embraced it.

The sound of the waves fades until a slight trickle of water begins to drift to me. I know the cave will turn sharply to the left in three feet, and there's a small opening. I continue to another turn, and then everything opens before me, and my secret spot reveals itself. There's a reason I love this island so damn much, and this is one of those reasons.

A small, heated body of water calls to me, and I begin stripping down, craving the warmth. I have no idea why the water is heated. All I know is that it is. As I sink below the surface, tension leaves my shoulders, and as I sink even further, it's almost as though the water has healing properties, healing my cuts and bruises from the summer.

My lungs strain, but I hold my breath as long as I can before kicking to the surface and making my way to the towels I have folded on the side. They smell awful from sitting all summer, but it's what I have. True exhaustion wraps around me, the kind one only feels when they are safe, and they know they can finally rest and everything will be alright.

Ever so slowly, I make my way to the pallet I set up freshman year. My legs feel heavy, and I crash onto the pallet, barely managing to pull the mildewy blanket over me before I fall asleep. As I drift off, the soft drip of water echoes like a lullaby, and the cave's cool breath whispers secrets only the darkness knows.