Chapter 18 – Running on Empty
Chapter 18 – Running on Empty
Emily needed air.
Sarah’s apartment had become both her refuge and her prison, its walls pressing in with every hour. She could feel the weight of Sarah’s worry, the way her friend’s eyes lingered too long on her, as though measuring her stability. Emily could not breathe under it anymore.
She dressed quickly, fingers trembling as she tied her hair back. The mirror offered her a stranger’s reflection, pale skin, shadows under her eyes, lips cracked from nights without rest. She looked like a woman unraveling.
But she was not. She knew she was not.
“I will just go to the office,” she whispered to herself. A public space with fluorescent lights, Phones ringing, People moving around. Somewhere she could remind herself she was real.
On the street, the morning air was brisk. Emily lifted her arm, flagging down a yellow cab. It rolled to a stop, the engine coughing as if reluctant. She bent to check the plate number, murmuring it under her breath like a mantra—732-LY9. Satisfied, she climbed inside without glancing at the driver.
Her phone buzzed. A distraction. Good. She scrolled through work emails, skimming over subject lines she could not process.
It was not until the cab veered sharply left that she looked up.
The scenery outside was wrong. They seemed to be moving to narrower streets with fewer pedestrians.
Her pulse stuttered. “Um… excuse me, this is not the way to Main Avenue.”
The driver did not respond.
Emily leaned forward. “Where are we going?”
The man’s voice was low, distorted under the shadow of a hood. “Somewhere nobody can hear you scream, Emily.”
Her stomach dropped into ice.
She lurched back, her fingers clawing at the door handle. The driver’s face was obscured, but she caught the angle of his grin in the rearview mirror.
Emily’s throat tore with a scream. The cab jerked as she shoved the door open and hurled herself into the street. She hit the asphalt hard, her knees scraping raw, but adrenaline shoved her upright. She ran.
“Help!” she cried, her voice breaking. “Please... help!”
A policeman stood at the corner, startled, his hand already on his holster. Emily staggered toward him, pointing frantically. “That cabman... he tried to kidnap me! He.... he was not going to take me to my office, he— ”
They turned together. The cab had rolled to a calm stop a few yards away.
But the driver was different.
Not a hooded man.... Not a grinning predator.... An elderly man, balding, his hands raised in bewilderment.
“That’s not him,” Emily whispered, her lungs collapsing. “That… that’s not him.”
The officer narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. “Sir, step out of the vehicle.”
The driver obeyed, his voice shaky. “Officer, I do not understand. She hailed me for a ride. I was taking her where she asked when she suddenly started screaming and jumped out.”
Emily shook her head violently. “No. No, that’s not true. That is not the man who picked me up!”
The policeman’s gaze shifted between them, assessing. “Ma’am, are you saying this is the cab you entered, but not the driver?”
“Yes!” Emily cried. She hurried to the rear, staring at the plate. Her stomach twisted. 732-LY9. The same.... The exact same.
Her voice cracked. “It is the same car, but… but it is not the same man.”
The driver’s expression was pinched with offense. “I was the driver, miss. I do not know what you are implying, but I never left this seat. I have the license, the registration. Everything’s mine.”
He handed the papers over, and the officer checked them methodically. Finally, he nodded. “Everything checks out, ma’am. He is the registered owner and driver.”
Emily’s head spun. “No… no, I am not crazy. I know what I saw. A man in a hood. He... he said... ” Her words tripped over each other.
The officer’s voice softened, but it carried doubt. “Ma’am, are you under the influence of any medication, drugs, or alcohol?”
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
The ground tilted. Her knees weakened.
Had she imagined it? Could she really have hallucinated the entire thing?
The driver frowned, his voice level but edged with pity. “You told me to take you to your office—” He named it exactly, down to the building.
Emily’s chest tightened. “How did you— ”
“Because you told me,” he said.
Her breath fractured. The policeman’s eyes weighed her like scales.
Emily stepped back, her arms wrapped around herself. “I… I need to go.”
She turned before either man could stop her, her legs carrying her blindly. Each step throbbed in her scraped knees, each stride heavier than the last. Her thoughts blurred, smeared into static.
Maybe she was losing her mind. Maybe Sarah was right.
By the time she reached Sarah’s apartment, her legs ached and her throat was raw from unshed screams. She pushed the door open with trembling hands.
Sarah was still inside, halfway through tying her coat. She froze when she saw Emily. “Oh my Goodness, what happened?”
Emily collapsed onto the couch, shaking. Sarah rushed over, gathering her close, stroking her hair.
“Tell me,” Sarah whispered.
And Emily did. She poured it all out, the cab, the wrong turn, the hooded man, the words, The jump, The police, and the driver who wasn’t the driver.
Sarah rocked her gently, murmuring comfort, but Emily felt the hesitation. The pause in her breath.
The doubt.
Sarah was wondering if she had imagined it.
Emily buried her face in her hands. “I swear, I am not crazy.”
Sarah kissed the top of her head, holding her tighter. “I believe you,” she said. But her tone was careful.
Emily knew she did not.
\~~~
That night, exhaustion finally claimed her. She fell asleep curled on Sarah’s couch, the faint hum of traffic lulling her into uneasy dreams.
But something pulled her awake in the dead of night.
Her eyes cracked open, adjusting to the dim glow from the streetlamp outside.
And she saw it.
A figure.
Standing at Sarah’s bedroom door.
Motionless .... Silent.... Watching.
Emily’s breath caught, her scream lodged in her throat.
The figure did not move.
She blinked once, twice.
And when her eyes cleared, the doorway was empty.
Emily let out a scream.