Walkin' down the my street

[Oriena]

The storm flurried and Nadezhda huddled against its onslaught, gripping the bags that slipped from her hands and splashed their innards on the ground. The torments fell on deaf ears; she was inured to the demon voices. But how they plucked at her, teasing every step on the path towards home. This morning had risen so bright; bright enough she'd decided to venture from the apartment at all after weeks of darkness and grey. She regretted it now. You were wrong, wrong, wrong.

You were supposed to stay home. You have tempted Fate, Dezhda, and now you will pay the price. Burning meat seared her nostrils. Imagination, imagination. She blinked at the pavement, dared not look up in case those flames licked her vision with their lies. Of course there is no screaming.

Then someone stooped to help rescue her groceries, and she flinched violently, about to lash out. Those are mine! No, no, no! But the smile stayed her hand in the brief moment she glanced up. Some of the tension drained from her face. She murmured something under her breath. About angels and thanks. Her things recaptured, she gratefully pressed the bags into his hands. "Thank you, thank you. I live this way."