Chapter 3 Stranger In the Smoke

The rain had stopped by morning, but the streets still smelled like last night's hurt - wet pavement, cigarette ash, and too many broken promises.

Jayda sat on the windowsill with her notebook open and her pen ready, but nothing was coming out. Not today. She felt hollow, like her soul had been wrung out and hung to dry. Mya was still asleep, curled up in the one blanket they shared, her soft breaths the only sign of peace in the apartment.

Her mother hadn't come home last night.

At first, Jayda had told herself not to worry. But now, hours later, that familiar fear had returned - thick and sour in her gut. Anything could have happened. Again.

She stood, stretched, and decided to check the usual places.

The first was the alley behind Rico's Bar. Sometimes her mother passed out there after trading her food stamps for shots. But today, it was empty - just wet cardboard and a broken umbrella tangled in the fence.

Next was the church on 3rd. Not because her mother ever went inside, but because the back porch was covered and quiet. Jayda found a blanket there once - maybe someone left it for people like her.

Still, no sign of her.

As she headed down the block, someone called her name.

"Jayda!"

She turned.

Ty jogged toward her, hoodie up, phone in hand. "You good?"

She hesitated, lips tight. "My mom's gone. Again."

Ty frowned. "Want me to help look?"

She shook her head. "No. I can't chase her today. I got stuff to do."

"You sure?"

Jayda hesitated, then nodded. "I need to finish that story. If that TikTok girl likes it, maybe I can get paid."

Ty smiled. "Told you. You got talent."

But Jayda didn't smile back. "Talent doesn't buy diapers or rice."

He handed her something - a folded twenty.

Jayda stared at it. "I didn't ask."

"I know. You never do. But I got it. Just take it."

Her hand closed around the bill slowly, shame pressing against her ribs like bruises. "Thanks," she muttered.

Then Ty added, "By the way... someone was asking about you."

Jayda blinked. "What? Who?"

"Some dude. Older. Said he knew your mom. Been hanging around the barber shop, asking about 'Sasha's girl.'"

Jayda's stomach dropped.

Sasha. No one called her mother that anymore - not unless they were from a past too heavy to carry.

"What did he look like?"

"Tall. Gold tooth. Rough voice. Didn't give a name."

Jayda's breath caught. Her father?

Or worse - someone who wanted something.

"What did you tell him?" she asked.

"Nothing. Said I didn't know you well."

She nodded. "Good."

Ty leaned closer. "You want me to watch out for him?"

Jayda met his eyes. "No. I want you to stay far away from him."

---

Back at the apartment, Mya was awake and already hungry. Jayda cooked some rice and made it look fun by drawing a smiley face in ketchup. Mya giggled, but her eyes were tired - she could feel the tension in the air like a storm was coming.

"Did you find her?" Mya asked.

Jayda shook her head. "Not yet."

Mya looked down at her plate. "You think she's okay?"

Jayda didn't answer right away. Instead, she sat beside her and said, "We're okay. That's what matters."

After lunch, Jayda locked the door, pulled out the notebook, and turned the page.

This time, the words came fast - like they'd been waiting for her.

She wrote about Lana again. Only now, Lana wasn't just dreaming. She was running. From something. From someone. A man who said he knew her mother. A man who knew too much.

Jayda's heart pounded as she wrote. Not because it was fiction - but because it wasn't.

She was Lana.

This was her life.

And she was tired of pretending it wasn't.

---

As night fell, the power flickered. Jayda lit a candle from the drawer and placed it on the table. The shadows danced across the walls like they knew secrets she didn't.

Then - a knock.

Three hard raps at the door.

Jayda froze.

Not Rosa. She always called first.

Not Ty. He'd never knock like that.

She stepped quietly to the door and peered through the peephole.

A man stood there. Black coat. Hood up. Head down.

Jayda didn't move. She didn't breathe.

"Jayda," the man said softly.

Her blood ran cold.

How did he know her name?

He knocked again, slower this time.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said. "I just want to talk about your mother."

Jayda backed away from the door, heart racing. Mya peeked out from the bedroom, eyes wide.

"Who is it?" she whispered.

"No one," Jayda said, trying to steady her voice. "Go back inside."

The man waited a moment, then said, "Tell Sasha... I'm sorry," and turned to leave.

Jayda watched him go until he disappeared into the dark.

She locked the door. Bolted it. Sat on the couch with the candle flickering beside her and her heart pounding like a drum.

She didn't sleep that night.

Because now she knew something was coming.

And she had no idea what.