The Stranger

by Kiersten Modglin

He thinks I’m just a woman—a helpless, defenseless woman. Sometimes, I think that’s our best weapon. Let them think we’re weak until we have to prove otherwise.

“Do I really look dangerous to you?” He shoves both hands out to his sides dramatically. I cut a quick glance his way without really looking at him. “You’re a white male in your thirties, so if you’ve watched the news, like, literally ever, I’m not really sure I need to answer that question.”

“You picked up a stranger on the interstate and never once questioned if I could be a serial killer, for one thing.”

In death, everyone becomes a hero. Otherworldly. The dead become something of myths and legends, even when everyone knows the truth.

It’s a superpower, in a way. Looking innocent when you’re anything but.

You’re too happy. Too trusting.” “Fair enough. I’d rather be happy and trusting than bitter and jaded.” She scowls. “Because you’ve been allowed to be. For women, for me, it’s better to be bitter, jaded, and alive than too trusting and dead.”

His blood will soak into the mud, the dirt, the soil, and anything left of his body will nourish the plants and the animals. It’ll be the one selfless thing he’s ever done.

Needing someone, caring about someone, trusting someone…it makes you weak. He made me weak.

I’m a strong, capable, independent woman, and I can open creepy closets all on my own, thank you.

“Lori and Tony have been lying to us. This isn’t their car. The car we’re riding in belonged to the missing boy from the news. And I’d bet anything they know what happened to him.”