I listen to the buzz of the streetlight, the distant whir of cars too far away to help, and I step forward. And this time, I keep moving, one foot in front of the other, again and again, each crack of leaves and twigs and litter louder than the last.

When I’m halfway through, I stop and wait. I need my breathing to slow and my heart to follow before I can speak.

The longer I stand here, the tighter the darkness grips me until the sense of someone at my back forces me to talk to remind me they are out there, watching, waiting.

My words come out as a whisper, so I start over, louder this time, even though talking in the darkness only increases the terror.

I want to whisper, I want to shrink, but I need them to hear me. I need to stand tall.

“I didn’t want anyone else to die,” I say. “I wanted to catch you, not make you kill again.”

Every noise sounds like a warning, and I imagine Mom standing here instead of me, hurrying but not fast enough, the moment she knew she should have gone the long way around.

“You’re scum, you know that? All you do is destroy. And before everyone starts telling me I’m taunting you, making you murder, that’s not what this is. I’m here, right now. I’m ready. If you want to hurt anyone, hurt me. I’m used to it.”

I don’t know how much my audience can see. I don’t know if the tiny flashlight on the camera pointing up at me is enough to make me anything more than a shadow. But I do know I don’t want anyone else to die.

“Are you scared of coming for me?” I ask. “You know where I live. You know where I am right now. What are you waiting for?”

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and when I look down, I see it’s Danny. He will try to talk me out of this. He’ll say I’m going too far.

So I click red, ignoring every call and text that comes over the next twenty minutes from Danny and Hanna and Emily as I stand silently in the alley, waiting for the Magpie Man.

I think of Jamie watching at home, how he pulled me back when there was nothing to fear. He was a hero when I didn’t need one. Now all I want is a monster.

But nothing happens. No one comes.

I get used to the noises the night makes.

The hum of the alley softens, the sense of someone close fades, replaced by sadness, as I realize this is all for show. I’m doing it for my audience. I’m doing it to get them off my back.