On Friday, Victor bid his time arriving home from school. He had asked Mr. Singh for the day off, just as his mother had instructed him to do; Mr. Singh had not been too pleased with his request, but he reluctantly agreed, under the promise that Victor would return on Sunday to help with the inventory.

He then decided  to make the most out of this hard-earned time off. When the final school bell chimed, Victor delayed his arrival home as much as he could. He and Benny stayed behind to practice with the Artesia High School soccer team and even got to play a couple of short games. Neither of them was actually part of the team; Victor didn't have the time to make a full commitment and Benny lacked the coordination to be more than a half-decent player, although what he lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm. Regardless, Coach Lopez liked them both well enough to let them practice with the team whenever they could.

Last time he had stayed for practice had also been the first that he had experienced a vision of that kid, which had almost caused him to get run over. Apart from that and the one he had that very night, the kid had not shown himself again, which was a relief. He hated the jolts of panic that he had experienced those last few days whenever he needed to cross the street.

After practice was over, he continued focusing his efforts into staggering for as long as he could. He took a shower in the school's locker room until the water had gone so cold he couldn't bear it any longer, then dried off and strolled around the place in nothing but a towel, like an elderly man in a country club. When that too bored him, he and Benny took the long route to Victor's house, stopping along the way to get an ice cream cone.

His mother was livid by the time they arrived. She and Diego were sitting in the only couch in the house, in front of the TV, which was showing reruns of an old game show. She jumped to her feet the moment they walked through the door. Diego sat, looking temporarily clueless as to where she had run off to.

"Victor Daniel Soto, where have you been?" she exclaimed, moving rapidly towards them like a tiger about to pounce. She then turned towards Benny, her facial features softening. "Hola Benny, How are you, sweety? How are your parents?"

"They're doing very well, Mrs. S." Benny replied, after mockingly smirking in Victor's direction.

"Say hi to them for me," Victor's mother said, then turned towards her son once again, scowling. "Where were you?"

"Soccer practice," Victor said, sheepishly. He wanted nothing more than to go directly to his room with Benny, play some music and try to tune out the idea of his mother alone in the house with Diego for who knows how long."It's my day off. It's the only time I get to play."

This answer did not seem to please his mother in the slightest. He had, in fact, grabbed the bull by the proverbial horns.

"You were supposed to be here almost two hours ago! Now I'm running late for my shift and Diego is too! Piensa en los demás, mijito!"

"It's fine, Luz," Diego, who had gotten up from the couch and rapidly paced to stand behind Victor's mother, said. "I would lose the track of time if I was playing a good match too."

He smiled at Victor, who didn't smile back. He was too busy looking at Diego's hand, wrapping around his mother's hip.

Diego was tall, lean and handsome. He had light-brown, curly hair and a strong jawline under a precisely-trimmed beard. He had first come into their lives the previous winter, as a handyman that one of his mother's work friends recommended. The ceiling of their house had been, at the time, leaking so much water from the seasonal rains that they had been forced to borrow pots and buckets from their neighbors in order to cover all of them. Diego had arrived to fix the problem, hired under the precept that he was skilled, quick and, most importantly, cheap. In the end, he didn't even charge them for the ceiling repair but rather took Luz Soto to dinner. They had been together ever since.

"So, Victor, got a favorite team?" Diego asked. "I grew up cheering for Cruz Azul, like my father and grandfather."

"No," he replied, dryly. 

His mother sighed."Don't be rude, Victor."

"He asked me something and I answered, didn't I?"

"Right then," Benny butted in. "How about we get going? If you'll still take us, Diego."

"Sure thing, man," Diego said, nodding his head. He then looked at Luz and planted a quick peck on her lips. "See you soon," he told her softly.

Before Victor could do anything, Benny grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. "We'll see you in the car," he said, then turned them both around and whispered into Victor's ear. "Control yourself, dude."

To Benny, the drive to the Orange County Outlet Mall had felt like an extremely uncomfortable, never-ending nightmare starring Diego, who was unrelenting on his quest to pick up a conversation with them, and Victor, who was applying that same determination into cutting him off with his indifference. 

When they pulled into the parking lot, Victor jumped off the pickup truck and marched away, heading towards the stores with Benny at his heels, without ever acknowledging or thanking Diego for the ride.

"I'll meet you here in a couple of hours," Diego called. A swift thumbs up from Benny was all the answer he got.

Wanting to get the shopping done as quickly as possible, Victor scurried into the first store he saw that had tuxedo-wearing mannequins and sale signs in display. A loud belled chimed as they entered. 

The inside looked more like a warehouse than a store; from floor to ceiling, rows upon rows of suits, shirts, pants, and jackets hung from all three walls. At the far back, red curtains served as doors to the fitting rooms, and right next to it, three sets of mirrors stood in front of a loveseat.

Victor...

"What?" he barked at Benny, who turned to him, looking puzzled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You truly hate the guy, don't you?"

"I don't hate him. I told you already, I just have a bad feeling about him."

"Right, due to your sixth sense for guys who date your mom and are not your dad," Benny replied.

Victor looked at him spitefully, then said, "Let's just get someone to help."

They talked to the only clerk in the store, an old man wearing a white, cuff-sleeves shirt, brown pants, and thick, horned-rimmed glasses. He was carrying a measuring tape in one hand and a pocket-size notebook in the other. A small cushion where he had stuck several dozens pins and needles was wrapped around his wrist and a pencil was hung over his ear.

The old man did not seem to like that Victor and Benny's priority when it came to renting their tuxedos was how cheap they could go on them. He begrudgingly showed them the most simple models available in the store, and for a second, looked as if he was about to drag them through the front doors by their ears after Victor asked him if he had any second-hand ones.

Seeing his frustration, they both opted for the classic, black ensemble, along with a pair of red bow ties, imitation silver cufflinks and some sort of sash that the old clerk called a cummerbund, name which got a stiffened laugh out of both.

After they had put on the tuxedos they chose, the old man had them each stand in a stepping stool in front of the mirrors, so he could take their measures and make the right adjustments.

"It going to take me all day to shorten the hem on this one," said the old man as he folded and locked the cuffs of Victor's pants in place with a needle. "Son, are you sure you don't want me to look in the junior section? I'm sure I can find a pair that will fit you better."

A loud snort sounded behind him. Benny and tried, although halfheartedly, to muffle his laughter.

"I want these ones," Victor said, his face reddening, burning dangerously close to the color of a ripe tomato.

The old man rolled his eyes and continued taking measurements.

"Do you think Diego will have a problem driving us back here once the tuxedos are fixed?" Benny asked. He was spread across a loveseat behind Victor, still fully suited, bow tie and all.

"Let's just drive ourselves in Gunk Gears," Victor suggested, then, after hearing Benny grunt, added, "I'll pay for gas."

"Could you put that in writing?"

"Ouch!" Victor exclaimed. 

The old man looked up."Did I stung you? My bad, son."

"No, it's fine," Victor said. The old man had, in fact, not stung him with the needles. Just a second prior, he had felt something like a quick poke in his temple, which he then started rubbing intensively.

Victor...

Rather than replying, he looked at Benny, who was mindlessly scrolling through something on his phone.

Victor, he heard again and started to scan around the store.

"Quit moving, son. I'm almost done!" the old clerk said, with half a dozen needles held in the corner of his mouth. He placed one more in the hem and stood up. "There. Go change and I will get started on your friend here."

While it was Benny's turn to stand in the stool, Victor took his clothes and headed for the closest changing room. He closed the curtain behind him, dropped his jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers to the side, then took a seat in the only chair inside the cubicle.

What the hell was that? He thought, one hand rubbing the nape of his neck.

He started to consider if maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him. Maybe all the combined stress from school, work, and home had finally snowballed into something bigger. Something large and powerful enough to start causing havoc in his psyche, smashing and flattening everything in its way.

He looked at his hands. The scrapes from four days before had scabbed and, although bothersome, he did not feel the need to bandage them anymore. Victor picked at one of the scabs until he drew little droplets of blood. Getting those scratches in his palms had been the best case scenario that day, all things considered. He could have easily gotten killed if the SUV's driver hadn't swirled away in time. Victor still recalled the horror in the man's eyes and how his hands, Victor's hands, would not stop shaking. He had only just then truly realized how close he had been to getting killed, all because some kid he didn't know had popped into his mind right at that second. How that had happened then, as well as that same night, he couldn't explain either.

Victor stood up, dropped the pants of the tuxedo, then folded and placed them on the chair's backrest.

I'm losing my shit, he thought, just as he started to undo the white shirt's buttons.

Outside his dressing room, he heard the faint chiming of a bell. It happened three more times, then it stopped. Four people total, had entered the store one after the other.

VICTOR! He heard a voice call.

The voice had been very clear this time. Extremely so. So much that it had rattled him into crashing, back first, against one of the changing room's walls.

"What's going on in there?" the old man asked from the outside.

"Everything okay there, man?" Benny asked.

"Everything is fine," Victor replied after a couple of seconds. His heart was racing. He still had his back against the wall, which was where he stayed until he heard the voice once more.

Victor, listen to me. You're in danger. You have to get out of that store right now!"What?" he called out loud.

Some people there are going to try to get you. You have to get out, now!"

I don'... I don't understand. Who are you?" he said. The voice, although very urgent, sounded somewhat delicate. It was female, undoubtedly, and sounded as loud and as clear as if the words had been spoken directly into his ear.

Victor, get out of there, now! The voice called, desperately. If you look outside, you'll see four men in suits. Avoid them at any cost.

After a moment of hesitation, Victor peeked into the store from a crack in the curtain. Just as the voice had said, four men in suits were scattered around the store, one of them, an Asian man with sleek, black hair, was moving closer towards his dressing room.

"I can't go. What about my friend?"

They don't care about him, they want you. If you leave, they will follow you.

"And where would I go?" he asked, panic rising in his throat.

Just do as I say. Don't open the curtain. Count to five, then tackle your way out of that dressing room.

Already counting, he stepped back until he was standing against the back wall. Victor crossed his arms over his face, then started running towards the curtain when he counted zero.

One instant, Victor was feeling the thin, velvet curtain rubbing against his elbows. The next, he felt himself colliding against someone, the Asian man most likely, thrusting him to the side.

The man crashed against a rack of pant, but Victor didn't turn back to see it, or when he heard Benny call out for him. He headed directly for the door.

Turn left when you exit and don't stop running, the voice ordered.

He heard the bell chime as he exited the store, then turned left and took off. The bell chimed three more times behind him.

Victor ran, barefoot, through the cement floors of the outlet mall, shoving and pushing his way through small crowds of people gathering outside stores.

Pass that American Eagle and turn left again. Careful with the janitor.

The instant he turned, he saw what the voice was referring to; a janitorial cart was stationed just around that corner. Victor managed to avoid it without slowing down his pace. The crash that followed suggested that one or more of his pursuant hadn't been so lucky.

Seven stores down, you'll see a picture frame store to your right. Enter it.

He didn't need to see it, to know that the men in suits were stepping on his heels. He took quick, shorts breaths, trying to pick up the pace. His lungs were burning and so were his calves. He spotted the picture frame store and entered at once."Now what?" he asked, panting, trying to catch his breath.

There is an unlocked door behind the counter. Go in there, lock it behind you. There will be another door right in front of you that should lead you to the back of the outlet mall. Turn right, run and I'll be there.

Victor saw the door. He ran to the back and jumped the counter. The front doors opened. 

The store's clerk, a teenage, ginger boy, started calling out to him.

"Sir, you can't go back there!" he called. "And you need to wear pants to be in this store!"

Victor ignored him and grabbed the door handle. Just as the voice had said, it was unlocked. Victor went through, closed the door behind him and snapped the lock.

He found the exit that leads to the back. Behind him, the men in suits were pounding on the door he had just locked.

The back lot of the outlet mall was deserted. It was merely an empty, broad alley with a red brick wall right across from the stores, each with their own green, trash container.

You're almost there, Victor. Just a little more.

"I don't know why I'm listening to you," he said, then took off running.

He rounded the corner. Up ahead, a street crossed the alleyway and in it, a silver BMW with blackout windows was parked.

"Stop!" a different voice called just as he had taken his first step forward. All of his muscles tensed up at once.

What's happening? Victor thought. I can't move a muscle!

Victor had frozen in place in mid-step, with his right foot firmly planted, his left a mere instant from leaving the ground and his arms in front of him. He could feel his heart beating inside his chest cavity and his lungs inflating and deflating, but nothing more. He couldn't even blink or will his mouth open.

"Come to me," the same voice called and suddenly he was moving again, except in the opposite direction from where he wanted to go. He was heading directly towards the Asian man he had tackled earlier.

Victor, you must fight ! the voice in his head urged him. Don't listen to him.

"I can't," Victor mumbled, his lips tightly shut, his tongue unmoving. No matter how much he willed it, his legs wouldn't stop moving. "Stop it. Come on. Stop it!"

He was ten feet from the man, who seemed sweaty and out of breath when he decided to make a last-ditch effort. Victor concentrated in his right hand, willing all of his energy into closing it up into a fist. If he could make one and then manage to move his whole arm, maybe he could put up a fight.

He felt nothing but a faint tingle, enough for his pinky and ring fingers to curl up. His stomach dropped. Victor had essentially no power over his own body.

A scratching sound caught his attention, followed by a crash. One of the trash containers had violently rolled away from its place, only to crash against the Asian man and pin him to the opposite wall. Immediately afterward, he felt something similar to a rush to cold water running all over his body, then it took him a second to realize that he had stopped moving. He managed to make a fist, and with a wash of relief, he realized he could move on his own once more.

Victor didn't lose any more time. He turned on his heels and took off running, his hands covering his ears, as the Asian man pushed the trash contained off him. At the end of the alley, the BMW's passenger side door burst open to an empty seat. Beside it, a girl was leaning over the door and watching him urgently.

"Run! Come on, hurry," she called. 

It was the same voice that he been in his head a moment prior.

With three potent leaps, Victor entered the BMW and grabbed the door handle. He tried to close it, but the girl leaned over and quickly stopped it with her hand. Victor looked at her, bewildered, then followed her gaze when he realized she was staring intensively to something in the outside.

The Asian man had stopped in his tracks and appeared to be hypnotized for a couple of seconds, before he turned away, shielding his face with his arm.

From the driver's side seat, the girl sent him a spiteful look. She then closed the door and drove away, the tires screeching under them.