The Broken Ones by Sarah A. Denzil

open and shut. She’s the vulnerable one.
     
    *
     
    It’s a relief to have Erin back. A full day with Mum, especially with everything going on, can be taxing. I’m more than happy to hand things over to her and head to the school. But Erin walks in through the door with a puzzled frown on her face. She leaves the front door open and gestures for me to follow her.
    “I don’t know what’s happened, but…” She points down to the driveway.
    “What the hell?”
    Our drive is covered in the clothes I left out for the charity last night. I bend down and pick up one of the bags.
    “It’s ripped open,” I say. “As though someone has pulled the plastic wrapper apart.”
    Erin bends down next to me. “Are you sure it wasn’t clawed or chewed open by an animal?”
    I’m no expert on animal tracks, but I would expect a bag to be shredded by an animal, not pulled open like this. I collect a blue blouse from amidst the gravel—a top Mum said revealed my “bingo wings”. It’s cut open. Slit from top to bottom.
    I turn to Erin. “Do animals have scissors?”
    “Fucking hell, Soph.”
    We remain there, staring at the clothes strewn over the ground. A few weeks ago, I would have chalked this up to bored teenagers, but now I’m not so sure. My head swims with possibilities.
    I really am being stalked. But by whom? Peter is the first name who pops into my mind. He’s the one who has been calling me. But what about the other people in my life? Erin? Alisha? The woman across the street with the cat? My boss, Moira? My ex-boyfriend, Jamie?
    Mum. Mum faking the extent of her illness, teasing me by mentioning a shadow, pretending to see people at night, making that terrible voice on the MP3 file… All of it to punish me.
    I finally come out of my trance and snap a few photographs with my phone. I’ll need to keep this in my log of “unusual activity” to show the police. Then I hurriedly collect my clothes, shoving them into the ripped plastic bags, ignoring the extent of the damage. It makes me sick to my stomach to think of anyone deliberately waiting until night time, then bringing a pair of scissors and cutting through my clothes.
    Then I remember. The camera.
    My heartbeat quickens.
    “I’m late for work.”
    “I can finish up here,” Erin says. “I’m sorry this happened. I just don’t understand it. Why would anyone do this?”
    I fold my arms across my body, flinching at the reminder of how creepy this situation is. How violating it feels. “Be careful today. Keep the doors locked, okay? Whoever this is only seems to come at night, but you never know.”
    “You be careful too,” she says. The early morning sun highlights the fine hair on her skin. She runs a hand through her pixie cut. “They could be following you.”
    I hurry to my car, wanting nothing more than to leave this house.
     

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    “Sophie, how are you?”
    In my haste to get to my classroom, I almost walk straight past Alisha. She frowns when she sees me, a telling testament to how frazzled I must appear. I run the back of my hand over my forehead, smearing sweat across my skin. My left arm is filled with books and my laptop. My shoulder bag is hanging from my arm. I daren’t glance down at my clothes. Did I even iron them this morning? I can’t remember.
    “Much better, thanks.” I force a smile.
    Alisha does not seem convinced. Her frown only deepens, and a furrow appears between her eyebrows. Either she’s worried, or she’s disgusted at my dishevelled appearance.
    “Are you sure? You seem stressed. Want to get a cuppa in the teacher’s room? We have ten minutes until registration.”
    It pains me to see the hopeful expression in her eyes. I love Alisha. She’s my best friend. But there will always be a barrier between us, a wall that I keep failing to pull down. It’s jealousy. I’m jealous of her life, of her husband and her children, and the fact that she doesn’t have a bitter, slowly decaying