CROWDED. FOLLOWED.

The skies darken, indicating the beginning of nightfall. Only the lights of the streets, stop-and-go indicators, burning barrels, and so forth light the way in the consuming darkness.

The streets, sidewalks, and everything in-between remain occupied, busy, crowded.

A small portion of a sidewalk is covered in garbage, such as filled trash bags, tattered boards, and ripped newspaper. It is set up in a way to provide a wall that blocks at both sides, leaving only the front available for passage.

Sitting in the center of this self-crafted wall is a young woman named Stevie, dressed in a torn hoodie and ripped jeans, wearing no shoes. She looks exhausted and sad, constantly glancing down at a can that contains almost three dollars and fifty cents, all of it from coins the passing civilians had freely given.

Her fingers, red from the cold, tremble as she adjusts the can’s position away from the rushing feet that never stop. People walk without glancing her way and no one stops. Nobody else spares her a few coins.

The atmosphere smells of exhaust and grease, mixed with something rotting in the nearby alleyway; spoiled food or a corpse, most likely. It probably just adds another reason, in a long list of reasons, to why she’s being ignored.

She tugs her hood down farther, to better shield herself from the world, not just the cold air. She silently watches as more and more people pass her by without pause, without helping.

She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t beg. She’ll give it a few more minutes before she finds a spot to sleep tonight.

Approximately ten-to-fifteen minutes later…

Can tossed aside, the coins now in her jeans’ pocket, she walks down the dark alleyway, contemplating life aloud.

“Another day gone by,” she mutters. “I managed to collect about five dollars today; that’s…a lot less than yesterday. Twenty-five dollars less.” She sighs. “I was making a decent amount just last week. Sixty dollars a day, almost. I should’ve stayed in that area, should’ve risked getting chased off by the police…” She sighs again. “Oh well…”

She digs into her hoodie pocket, pulling out a wrapper. Unfolding it, she begins eating the other half of the burger someone kindly brought her.

“At least I won’t starve tonight,” she mumbles with her mouth full, smacking her lips as she chews. “I should’ve used my money more wisely, instead of using it all on food. I could’ve rented a motel room for the night or something.” She shakes her head, finishing her food. “It is what it is, I suppose. Just…got to find a better way to stay afloat.”

As she reaches the end of the alleyway, which splits in two directions, she finds a barrel with a fire lit inside. She steps close to it and warms up.

“I’ll figure it out. I always do,” she promises herself, rubbing her palms together. “I’ll get back on my feet again. I know it.”

Two gunshots echo throughout the alleyways, startling her, making her jump. She glances in the direction it came from.

“I’ll never get used to the shootings around here,” she grumbles, huffing. “Only… That sounded close by this time…”

All she does is step by the flaming barrel and there he is; a man lying on the ground at the end of another alleyway. Curiosity gets the best of her, though she already knows the man is a goner; she approaches his location.

“No, no, no…” the dying man mutters, his side bleeding heavily. On the ground, right next to him, is a suitcase with a chain wrapped around it; also sticking to it is a warning note. “This ain’t good…”

“...” She doesn’t say anything to him, just watches.

“You… Listen…” the man struggles to say, looking at her. “You’ve gotta take this…”

“...What’s in it?” she asks, glancing at the suitcase.

“It’s better you don’t know…” he answers, being completely vague and just making her want to walk away.

She stands there silently, contemplating. Her demeanor switches like a light; she has enough problems as it is. “...Fuck no. You’re literally dying because of it; that much is obvious, you cryptic bastard.” She makes a move to walk away.

He doesn’t take that for an answer, immediately forcing the suitcase into her arms despite his injuries.

She glares at him, about to throw the damn suitcase at his face, and break his stupid nose. “Fucker, I said no!”

He ignores her complaint. “Listen carefully…”

“Take it back,” she states angrily, holding it out to him, showing restraint as she really wants to throw it at him. “It’s not my problem.”

“There is a ferry…leaving the city…” he continues, ignoring her protests. “At midnight…tonight…”

“Take it back,” she repeats. “Take it back. Take it back. Take it back.”

He keeps talking, never skipping a beat in his explanation, not counting the pauses in-between words from the fact that he’s bleeding out. “...Make sure…you’re on it…” He coughs. “...Don’t let it…take the case.”

“Take. It. Back,” she repeats, more angrily. She almost says it again, like she’s been doing, but stops. “Wait, it? Who’s it? What the fuck did you drag me into, asshole?”

He doesn’t answer properly. “And don’t bother…trying to…open it; it’s…sealed shut for…a reason.”

She looks exasperated, but she remains silent this time, waiting for him to explain something properly, anything.

“This thing… It takes…the form of others…” he says. “There’s…a subway…down this alley… Get the last…train… I’m sorry…”

“Fuck you, you’re sorry; you’ve doomed me, haven’t you?!” she yells.

“It’s here…” he says, getting weaker and weaker. He tries to point towards it. “Do…you…see…it…? Only…we…can…see…it…”

She rolls her eyes at the dramatics and raises an eyebrow, looking where he’s pointing. She screams; not of horror but surprise. Okay, maybe a little bit from horror, actually.

It looks like a person, a tall and thin figure with very long limbs, but something's clearly off about them. As they step into the light, it becomes a bit clearer; the clothing on this person is just what appears to be a medical gown, blood at the abdomen. With a slow, steady gait, it moves, getting closer.

“Nah.” She shakes her head at it, backing away. “Nah, not today, Satan.” Turning on her heel, she sprints down the alleyway, in the direction of the subway, leaving the dying man to succumb to his injuries, or get brutally murdered by the tall figure.

She honestly didn’t give a damn; he can rot in hell for all she cares.

Unfortunately for her, she still has the cursed suitcase.

Sometime later…

She made it to the subway, barely having enough coins to get a ticket, getting on the mechanism. Unfortunately, she lost it when she kept pushing past everyone to get as far away from the creature as possible. And when she saw the thing getting closer, and no one looked at it with curiosity (it’s tall as hell), she knew it was real.

Now, she’s sprinting up, down, and all around the subway station, looking for loose change in nooks and crannies as the creature slowly follows after her in the crowded place. She’s also screaming at the top of her lungs, yet no one glances her way; the homeless are always ignored.

That or they think she’s a druggie.

She shrieks as the creature literally gets mere inches away from her. “Hold on! Hold on! Hold up! Yo! Back up!” she exclaims, backing away from it to keep the distance between them. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me.” She trips and the creature gains another step closer. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” She turns and sprints down the staircase, nearly tripping again on the way down.

Falling and breaking my neck sounds less painful than whatever this creature might do to me, she thinks, fear flooding within.

As she keeps running, bending over to grab dropped change or to quickly check between seats (probably looking through the same ones as before), she slowly gets closer and closer to the amount of change she had before getting a ticket.

“Spare change!” she begs, although she knows no one will help. “Spare change, ma’am!” As expected, no one looks at her, no one gives her some coins. “Fuck you, then!” She keeps sprinting around. “Why do I even need a ticket to leave, anyway?! It’s like they want you to be trapped in here forever! Stupid machinery! I’d sneak out with someone if the gate weren’t so smart!”

A few more minutes of running, she has to stop and rest briefly, allowing the creature to gain up on her again, just as closely as before.

“No!” She starts running again. “I wish so badly that I could dropkick you!”

It is at this point that some people start looking at her, because eventually, someone is gonna get curious. All she gets is weird looks from them before she’s ignored again.

She glances down at the suitcase in her hand. “I need to pass it on!”

So, as she continues looking for the seventy-five cents more that she needs, she tries to pass on the suitcase to someone inside the subway station. She can’t find an unfortunate sucker, however; no one is going to just accept a random, creepy looking suitcase from a woman that looks homeless and like a crackhead.

Hours later...

She managed to get the money for a new ticket, getting the hell out of the subway. Then, for some time, she had to run from the creature in the crowded streets and alleyways. She almost got caught a few times; some people were refusing to let her get by.

By the time the sun began to rise, she was finally on the ferry the dying man had mentioned, still holding the suitcase that she continuously tried to pass off as someone else’s problem. She was also extremely exhausted, physically from all the running and mentally from all the trauma the experience caused her.

Staring tiredly at the kid sitting across from her, she is so very tempted to just trick the boy and pass it over, doom him so she can be free again. After all, she’s been trying to pass it off for hours now.

Ultimately, she doesn’t.

Instead, she chooses to toss it overboard. “The bottom of the ocean is where this briefcase belongs.”

With the suitcase out of her possession, she smiles to herself.

“A fresh start awaits me,” she whispers. “If I can escape an invisible demon, I can get back on my feet.” She glances over to where the kid is. “And start caring about what other people are going through, too.” She looks up at the sky. “...I forgive you. Hope your death was swift, you cryptic asshole.”

And so, she was changed. No more would she beg for money, then spend it unwisely. No more would she sleep in alleyways for weeks or months. She was finally going to work towards changing her life around.

“...God, I really hope I didn’t just doom myself,” she mutters, thinking about the suitcase that’s sinking in the ocean. “I sure hope this counts as passing it along.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Stevie was created by me.

Stevie’s dialogue, whenever she has it, is mostly original, is somewhat from the game, and is kind of from Mikeeey, the YouTuber I watched play this game. Stevie’s mannerisms are somewhat based on the behavior of the in-game character, only she doesn’t have emphysema as I felt I would just misrepresent it. I believe the in-game character is a male.

Did you catch the Spongebob reference?

The game was developed by NIGHT DIAL and published by Banshee Games. The plot/storyline is entirely from the game, and from the film “It Follows”, which the game was clearly inspired by.

Descriptions are original.

Here's a video of the gameplay by Mikeeey I mentioned.