𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐞 Sh0t And K!lled A Female Coworker In Front Of Her Mother | HO

The fluorescent lights at the Walmart on Oakland Avenue in Dallas washed the sales floor in a brightness that never felt like morning or night. Julia Richardson stood at Register Three in her blue vest, hair flat-ironed into obedience, smile pinned on like a name tag. On the card reader was a little US-flag magnet—cheap, scuffed, one corner peeling—left there by a cashier who swore it “kept the machines from acting up.” Someone in the next lane hummed Sinatra under their breath, and the sound mixed with the clack of scanners and the sweet tea sweating in a foam cup by Julia’s elbow.

“Do you need a bag?” she asked, eyes on the barcode, not the person.

“Yes, please,” a man answered.

Scan. Bag. Receipt. Thank you. Next.

Julia was twenty-eight, college-educated, and here anyway—six hours into her shift, pretending this was temporary, repeating the same motions until her arms felt borrowed.

The thing about temporary was how easily it became a life.

When the line finally thinned, Haley Morgan drifted over from cosmetics like she always did, curls bouncing, lip gloss perfect, eyes sharp with the kind of empathy that came from being tired in the same place.

“Some particularly demanding customers today,” Haley said, leaning a hip against the counter.

“The usual,” Julia murmured, wiping down the register. “This morning a woman went full courtroom drama because we wouldn’t take expired coupons.”

Haley snorted. “Dallas is gonna Dallas.” Then her voice dropped. “Hey. Have you noticed the way Travis looks at you?”

Julia didn’t want to look, because looking made it real, but she glanced anyway—toward electronics, where Travis Benson stood pretending to straighten a row of boxed earbuds. Tall and thin, beard neatly trimmed like he’d watched a tutorial. His hands moved on autopilot; his attention didn’t. When Julia’s eyes landed on him, he snapped his gaze away too fast, like a kid caught stealing.

“I’ve noticed,” Julia admitted. “It’s…weird. He tries to talk, but he can’t keep a normal conversation going.”

“I think he’s in love with you,” Haley said, the words half a joke, half a warning.

“Please don’t,” Julia muttered. “I’m not doing relationships right now. Especially not with coworkers.”

Eight months ago, Derek had chosen a job in another state over her and left her holding an apartment she couldn’t afford alone. She’d moved back in with her mom—Lauren Richardson—an adult decision that still felt like a childhood punishment.

The overhead speaker crackled: “Cashier number three, service required.”

Julia exhaled. “That’s me.”

Haley lifted two fingers in a little salute. “Be careful, Jules.”

The next hour and a half came in waves—families with carts full of cereal and paper towels, people in a rush, people looking for a fight, people who didn’t look at her at all. Thirty minutes before clock-out, Julia was already picturing a hot bath and the quiet of her room.

She was closing her register when Travis approached.

“Hi, Julia,” he said, and his fingers worried the strap of his wristwatch like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

“Hi, Travis.” Polite. Neutral. Safe.

“I, uh…wanted to ask…” He swallowed. “Would you like to get coffee with me tonight? After work.”

For a second, Julia heard Haley’s voice in her head—don’t agree out of pity—and then she heard her own, louder: don’t make work awkward. She weighed two bad options against each other and chose the one that felt easier in the moment.

“One coffee,” Julia said carefully. “Just coffee. I have things to do.”

His face lit up so intensely it made her feel guilty, like she’d handed water to someone who’d been stranded in a desert.

“Just coffee,” he repeated, almost reverent. “The café across the street? Seven?”

“Seven,” Julia agreed, already regretting it.

Some promises are just loans with terrible interest.

In the locker room, Haley stared at her like Julia had announced she was taking up skydiving indoors.

“What did you do?” Haley hissed.

“I know,” Julia groaned, stuffing her vest into her locker. “I just couldn’t say no. The look in his eyes—”

“Jules, you’re too kind. That guy’s been looking at you like you’re a goddess for months.” Haley crossed her arms. “You’re going to get his hopes up.”

“I’ll be clear,” Julia insisted, pulling on her leather jacket. “One coffee, a straight talk, done.”

“You agreed out of pity,” Haley said, blunt. “It never ends well.”

Julia forced a shrug. “It’s a public place.”

Haley rolled her eyes. “That’s what every heroine says right before the plot turns.”

They stepped into the cool Dallas evening. Streetlights blinked on, the Walmart lot glittering with headlights and shopping carts rattling like loose change. Haley hugged herself against the breeze.

“Text me,” she said. “And don’t do the soft ‘no.’ Do the real one.”

“I will,” Julia promised.

She walked toward the Blue Moon Café with a small uneasiness building in her chest, the kind that didn’t have a name yet.

The Blue Moon Café sat on the corner of the shopping center—plastic tables, cheap specials, the comforting smell of burnt espresso and fryer oil. The bell above the door jingled when Julia entered. Travis was already there, at a window table, tapping his fingers like he was counting down to something.

He popped up so fast he nearly tipped his chair. “Julia. You came.”

“I said I would.” She sat across from him.

Two cups waited on the table.

“You ordered already?” she asked.

“Yes. Cappuccino.” His eyes searched her face. “I asked for cinnamon on top.”

Julia didn’t like cinnamon. She took a sip anyway. “Thanks.”

“So,” she began, reaching for the safe small talk, “how long have you been at Walmart?”

“Three years, two months, fourteen days,” he said instantly.

Julia blinked. “That’s…specific.”

“I transferred from Fort Worth when my mom got sick,” Travis said, then his expression tightened. “She needed constant care.”

“I’m sorry,” Julia said, and meant it.

“She died last year,” he added, voice flat. “Lung cancer.”

Julia’s throat tightened. “Travis, I’m really sorry.”

He stared at her for a beat, and then something in his gaze shifted as if grief had found a new address.

“But I have you now,” he said.

Julia froze with the cup halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

Travis leaned forward. His eyes had a fever-bright gleam that made Julia’s skin prickle.

“I noticed you the first day you started at our store,” he said. “May twenty-third. You wore a blue dress under your vest, and you kept fixing your hair.”

Julia couldn’t remember the date. Couldn’t remember the dress. The fact that he could made her stomach go cold.

“Travis,” she said, measured, “I think we need to be clear. I agreed to coffee because—”

“I know everything you like,” he cut in, smiling as if he’d brought her a gift. “Your favorite color is purple. You always eat chicken salad and an apple for lunch. On Fridays you get a chocolate chip cookie from the vending machine. You park on the east side because there’s shade from that one tree. You always listen to music on your headphones on the way home.”

Julia’s pulse kicked hard. Every detail was right. And she’d never told him any of it.

“Travis,” she said, firmer, “I appreciate you being…attentive, but you’re misunderstanding us. We’re coworkers. I want to keep it that way.”

His smile stayed. His eyes did not.

“You’re scared of your feelings,” he said softly. “After Derek left you, you built a wall. I can help you open up again.”

Her cup rattled faintly against its saucer. “How do you know about Derek?”

“I know a lot about you,” Travis said, and reached across the table.

Julia pulled her hand back. “No.”

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said, the words landing heavy. “We’re made for each other. I can give you anything you want.”

Panic rose behind Julia’s ribs. She pushed her chair back just enough to create space.

“I’m not interested in a relationship,” she said clearly. “Especially not with a coworker. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. But the answer is no.”

For a heartbeat, something dark flashed across his face—then the smile returned, like a mask slid back into place.

“You’re just scared,” he said. “That’s normal. I’ll wait. We have time.”

“No, Travis.” Julia stood and grabbed her bag. “There is no ‘we.’ I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving already?” he asked, voice suddenly small. “But we were just getting to know each other.”

“Goodbye,” Julia said, and walked out with her heart pounding.

In her car, hands shaking, she texted Haley: You were right. He’s creepy. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

A decision made to keep the peace can start a war you never asked for.

The next few days at work felt like walking through a store aisle knowing something had spilled and you just couldn’t see it yet. Travis didn’t approach Julia. He didn’t speak to her. But he was always nearby—at the service entrance, in the break room doorway, in a neighboring department under the pretense of “helping.”

Sometimes she caught the glint of his phone angled her way, and when she looked up, he’d turn his head like he’d been checking a price.

“He’s watching you,” Haley said over lunch on Thursday, voice low. “That’s not normal, Jules. You need to tell Darius.”

Darius Parker was their department manager—strict, fair, the kind of supervisor who actually knew policies instead of just quoting them.

“What am I supposed to say?” Julia whispered. “Excuse me, Mr. Parker, my coworker looks at me too much?”

“Not yet,” Haley said grimly. “But I’ve read stories. It starts harmless and then it’s—” She stopped herself, eyes flicking around the room. “You know.”

At that moment, the break room door opened and Maxwell Knight stepped in. Tall, athletic, short-cropped hair, kind eyes. Sporting goods. The guy everyone trusted to help an elderly couple pick the right bike without making them feel stupid.

“Hey, ladies,” he said, heading for the coffee machine. “How’s your day treating you?”

“The usual,” Haley replied. “You?”

“Just helped an older couple pick bikes for their grandkids,” Maxwell said, pouring coffee. “They were hyped. Made my day.”

Julia found herself smiling. Maxwell was easy to be around—no pressure, no weird intensity, just normal human warmth.

He turned toward her, suddenly shy in a way that didn’t feel rehearsed.

“Julia,” he said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you for a long time…would you like to have dinner Saturday night? I have tickets to a jazz concert at Clyde Warren Park. Then we could try that new Creole place.”

Julia blinked. The invitation felt like stepping into sunlight after days under those Walmart lights.

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, surprised by how sincere her voice was. “I’d love to.”

Maxwell’s grin was immediate. “Great. I’ll pick you up at six. Can I get your address?”

Julia reached for her phone to exchange contacts.

The door opened again.

Travis stepped into the break room and stopped dead, eyes moving from Julia to Maxwell. His face tightened slowly, as if someone was twisting a dial.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he said coldly, and walked out, slamming the door.

An awkward silence fell.

“What was that?” Maxwell asked, puzzled.

Julia exhaled. “A long story. I’ll tell you Saturday.”

Friday came with end-of-week exhaustion and a little flicker of hope. During break, Julia told Haley and two girls from clothing—Tammy and Chenise—about the date.

“Maxwell?” Chenise squealed. “Girl, you’re lucky. Half the store has a crush on him.”

“And it’s no wonder,” Tammy added. “Handsome, smart, well-mannered…unlike some people.”

Julia knew who she meant. She didn’t say the name.

“I’ve liked him for a while,” Julia admitted. “I just didn’t think he noticed.”

Haley snorted. “Are you kidding? He watches you every time you walk past sporting goods. He’s just not…that other kind of obvious.”

They laughed, and then a box thudded to the floor behind them.

They turned. Travis stood in the aisle, earbuds scattered like spilled beads, his gaze fixed on Julia with a mix of pain and anger.

“Travis, are you okay?” Tammy asked.

He didn’t answer. He crouched and began scooping items back into the box without looking at them, movements sharp and careless.

“So,” he said finally, eyes lifting, voice strangely flat, “are you two officially dating yet?”

“It’s none of your business,” Julia said, keeping her voice steady.

“Of course it’s none of mine,” he said, smiling crookedly. “I just wondered what was so special about him. Why him and not me?”

“Travis,” Julia said quietly, shoulders tight, “this isn’t the place.”

“Where is?” he asked, bitterness leaking through. “At the café you didn’t want to listen. At work you don’t want to listen either.” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should come to your house. Forty-two Maple Street.”

Julia went cold. She had never told him where she lived.

“How did you—”

“Have fun on your date,” he interrupted, rising with the box in his hands. “Hope it’s worth it.”

He walked away and left the aisle feeling smaller, darker.

“Okay,” Chenise breathed. “That is scary.”

“Tell Darius,” Haley said, voice hard now. “He knows where you live.”

Julia’s hands shook. “I’ll…think about it.”

But even as she said it, she knew the situation had outgrown her denial.

At home that night, the smell of her mother’s vegetable roast filled the kitchen. Lauren Richardson looked up from the stove and saw Julia’s face.

“Rough day?” Lauren asked.

Julia sank into a chair. “Just…a coworker problem.”

Lauren turned fully toward her, eyes narrowing. “Julia Aisha Richardson. Don’t do that. What’s going on?”

There was no point in trying to hide it.

“There’s a guy at work,” Julia admitted. “Travis. He’s taking an unhealthy interest in me. I told him no. He won’t accept it.” She swallowed. “Today he said our address. I never told him.”

Lauren’s expression hardened. “Have you told your supervisor?”

“Not yet,” Julia said. “He hasn’t…done anything I can prove. Just watching, saying things.”

“That’s enough,” Lauren said, sitting across from her. “I worked in the Social Security system for thirty years. I’ve seen how this escalates. It starts with strange ‘coincidences’ and ends with someone feeling trapped.”

Julia stared at the table, ashamed. Her mother was right, and she’d been hoping it would fix itself.

Saturday arrived anyway.

Julia took almost two hours getting ready—shower, soft waves in her hair, a dark purple dress she saved for days she wanted to feel like herself. Excitement kept trying to break through the anxiety.

Lauren stood in the doorway. “You look beautiful.”

Julia gave a weak smile at her reflection. “I hope it goes well.”

Lauren stepped closer and rested her hands on Julia’s shoulders. “You can’t let fear run your life. But you also can’t pretend a threat isn’t a threat. Keep your phone on you. If anything feels off, you call.”

“What am I supposed to tell police?” Julia asked bitterly. “A guy looks at me too hard?”

“If he crosses a line, you call 911,” Lauren said, firm. “And if you ever feel unsafe, you call anyway.”

The doorbell rang.

Maxwell waited in the living room in a dark blue jacket, holding a bouquet of purple irises. He looked nervous and sincere, a combination Julia hadn’t realized she missed.

“Julia,” he said softly when she came downstairs. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, cheeks warming. “You too.”

“These are for you,” Maxwell said, offering the flowers. “Haley mentioned purple is your favorite.”

Julia inhaled their delicate scent. “They’re beautiful.”

Lauren took the bouquet with a smile. “I’ll put them in water. You two have fun.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Richardson,” Maxwell said politely.

“You too,” Lauren replied. “And take care of my little girl.”

“I promise,” Maxwell said, serious enough that Julia believed him.

In the car—an elegant dark gray sedan—Maxwell asked, “Where first?”

“I thought we could walk around Clyde Warren Park before the concert,” he said. “It’s too nice to go straight indoors.”

Julia felt a spark of genuine excitement. “I’d love that.”

The park glowed under a soft Dallas evening—paths, gardens, the pond catching the last of the sun. They walked and talked without forcing it. Maxwell told her about growing up in New Orleans, his family moving after Hurricane Katrina, his love for jazz and basketball. Julia told him about her degree, her dream of starting a small business, the complicated hurt of a father who left when she was twelve.

“You know,” Maxwell said, stopping by a lily pond, “I’ve noticed you at the store for almost a year.”

Julia’s stomach clenched—too close to Travis’s words—but Maxwell lifted a hand, quick to soften it.

“Not in a creepy way,” he added, smiling. “Just…your kindness. You stand out. I tried to work up the courage to ask you out, but I kept finding excuses.”

“What changed?” Julia asked.

Maxwell laughed. “Yesterday Haley told me, ‘If you don’t ask Julia out in the next twenty-four hours, I’ll tell her you’ve been writing her name on the fogged mirror in the locker room.’”

Julia laughed too, tension loosening.

“I am not doing that,” Maxwell said, feigning offense. Then he winked. “I’m writing it on the shower stall glass like a gentleman.”

They both laughed, and for a moment Julia felt normal again—like the last week had been a bad dream.

Somewhere in the middle of safety, the danger learned your address.

They found their seats at the small outdoor amphitheater. People settled in—families with kids, couples, friends. The musicians tuned up.

“Wait here,” Maxwell said. “I’m gonna grab us something to eat.”

Julia watched the stage, breathing slowly, trying to let the music-to-come pull her forward.

Her phone vibrated.

Unknown number: You look beautiful in that dress. Purple really is your color.

Julia’s blood went cold. She lifted her head, scanning the crowd. Too many faces. Too many places to hide.

The phone buzzed again.

Maxwell isn’t right for you. He can’t protect you the way I can.

Julia stood, heartbeat hammering. She turned in a slow circle, trying not to look panicked, trying not to make herself a spectacle.

“Julia?” Maxwell returned with two paper cups and a bag. One look at her face and his smile vanished. “What happened?”

She held up her phone. “It’s Travis. He’s here.”

Maxwell’s jaw tightened. “Travis from electronics?”

“Yes.” Her voice shook. “I want to leave. Now.”

“Okay,” Maxwell said immediately, setting the food aside like it didn’t matter. “We’re going to the car.”

They walked fast but not running, the way people do when they want to pretend everything’s fine. Julia felt eyes on her everywhere, and she couldn’t tell which ones were real.

Near the park exit, she saw him.

Travis stood by a tree like he belonged there, hands in his jacket pockets, wearing a dreamy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“There,” Julia whispered, gripping Maxwell’s hand. “By the exit.”

Maxwell stepped slightly in front of her. “Stay behind me. We’re just walking past.”

As they approached, Travis peeled away from the tree and moved into their path.

“What a nice little meeting,” he said, voice almost pleasant. “Julia, won’t you introduce me to your friend?”

“Back up, Travis,” Julia said, forcing steadiness. “Leave us alone.”

“It’s rude,” Travis said, head tilted. “After everything between us—”

“There was nothing between us,” Julia snapped.

Maxwell’s voice was controlled. “Look, man, we’re just trying to leave. Don’t make this a thing.”

“A thing?” Travis echoed, as if amused. Then his gaze locked on Maxwell. “She’s mine.”

Maxwell frowned, disbelief sharpening into anger. “Julia isn’t anybody’s property. She said no.”

Travis took a step closer, and his words spilled out fast, like a rehearsed confession.

“I know her,” Travis said. “I know what coffee she drinks, what music she listens to, what books she reads. I know she sleeps on the left side of the bed. I know she brushes her teeth before she washes her face. I know she gets bad dreams on Tuesdays and cries when she thinks no one can see.”

Julia’s skin prickled. Those weren’t guesses. They were true.

Her voice came out thin. “Were you following me?”

Travis smiled, and the smile was the scariest part. “I’m always around, Julia. Looking out for you.”

Maxwell’s patience snapped into something protective and hard. “It stops now. You don’t contact her again. If you keep this up, I’m going to the police.”

Something in Travis changed—his eyes going wild, like a cornered animal.

“You think you can just take her?” he hissed. “You think you’re worthy?”

“Travis, stop,” Julia pleaded, but the moment had already tipped.

Travis lunged at Maxwell, fast and furious. Maxwell staggered, then put up his hands, trying to block and push him away. People shouted. Someone pulled out a phone. Two men rushed in and grabbed Travis by the arms, dragging him back as he fought like he had no brakes.

“She’s mine!” he yelled, straining against them. “Julia! Tell him! Tell him you belong to me!”

Maxwell stood breathing hard, wiping at his mouth, a red smear on his lip. His jacket was torn; a bruise began to bloom on his cheek.

“Take him away,” someone shouted. “Call 911!”

“No,” Julia said suddenly, voice raw. “Maxwell, please—let’s just go.”

Maxwell hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. We’re leaving.”

They hurried to the parking lot and into the car, the night air suddenly too thin. Julia’s hands shook as she buckled in, tears breaking loose like they’d been waiting for permission.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, crying. “I didn’t think—”

“This is not your fault,” Maxwell said, gentle but firm. “But you need to report this. What he’s doing is harassment. It’s serious.”

“I know,” Julia whispered, wiping her face. “I’ll tell Darius on Monday.”

Maxwell looked at her, eyes steady. “It’s not just work. What he said—about your sleep, your nightmares…Julia, he might have been inside your house.”

The words landed like a weight on her chest.

“My mom’s there,” Julia said, terror rising. “Alone.”

“I’ll drive you,” Maxwell said immediately. “And if you don’t want to go home, we’ll get a hotel, but you should still make a report.”

Julia nodded, grateful and sick with fear at the same time. The date that had been a doorway into something better had turned into a warning sign lit in neon.

“Let’s go home,” she said. “I need to tell my mom.”

That weekend, Julia lived like the air itself was listening—checking locks, flinching at every sound, sleeping in shallow shifts. Maxwell stayed late Saturday, then came back Sunday morning to help install new locks and motion sensors. Lauren watched with horror, anger simmering under it.

“We have to go to the police,” Lauren insisted.

“We don’t have proof,” Julia said, exhausted. “He didn’t—he didn’t do anything I can document besides what happened at the park, and Maxwell doesn’t want to press charges.”

Lauren’s eyes sharpened. “Then you document now. You don’t wait for ‘worse.’”

Monday came too fast.

Julia walked into Walmart and felt the familiar hum of fluorescent lights, the same smell of popcorn from the front, the same cart squeak near produce. She told herself she would go straight to Darius.

Then she saw Travis in electronics, arranging merchandise like nothing had happened, smiling politely at a customer.

When his gaze found Julia, he smiled at her too, calm and normal in a way that made her stomach turn.

Julia felt something in her harden into decision.

She walked up to him, keeping her face controlled. “We need to talk.”

Travis’s eyes brightened like he’d been offered a gift. “Alone?”

“Now,” Julia said. “In the back.”

He followed her to the back office, a cramped room stacked with boxes. Julia left the door slightly open on purpose. She wanted air. She wanted witnesses nearby, even if she couldn’t see them.

“Travis,” she began, taking a breath, “your behavior is scaring me. Saturday was unacceptable.”

“I was defending you,” he said, genuinely offended. “That guy isn’t right for you.”

“You attacked my friend,” Julia corrected. “And you’ve been following me. You know things you shouldn’t. Have you been to my house?”

His expression softened into something that would’ve looked tender in another story. Here, it was terrifying.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said.

“It’s called stalking,” Julia said sharply. “It’s not love. It ends now. You stay away from me and from Maxwell. If you contact me outside work again, I’m going to Darius. And if I see you near my house, I’m calling 911.”

Travis stared at her, hurt and confusion tangled with something darker.

“You don’t understand,” he said quietly. “I love you. I loved you from the first moment. I wake up thinking of you. I fall asleep picturing your face. You’re the air I breathe.”

“That’s not love,” Julia said, voice shaking despite her effort. “It’s obsession. And I’m scared.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he insisted. “Anything.”

“Because I don’t feel that way,” Julia said, honest and final. “And I never will.”

His eyes darkened. “I can’t stop,” he whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Julia stepped toward the door. “Then I have no choice. I’m going to Darius.”

Travis grabbed her wrist.

Pain shot up her arm. “No,” he said, grip tight. “You’re not going to him.”

“Let go,” Julia gasped, trying to pull free.

“Please,” he begged, voice breaking. “Give me one real chance.”

“Travis, you’re hurting me.”

For a second, his grip loosened—maybe guilt, maybe calculation. Julia yanked free, rubbing her wrist where a bruise was already forming.

“That’s it,” she said, breath unsteady. “You crossed the line.”

She walked out fast without looking back and didn’t exhale until she was behind Darius Parker’s closed office door.

Darius listened without interrupting, asking short questions when he needed clarity. When Julia described Travis knowing details about her life that couldn’t be learned at work, Darius’s expression tightened.

“And he grabbed you today?” Darius asked, eyes dropping briefly to Julia’s wrist.

“Yes,” Julia said, swallowing hard. “I don’t feel safe.”

Darius straightened. “I’m calling him in. This is serious. It’s against policy and likely against the law.”

“Will you fire him?” Julia asked, hope breaking through fear.

“Absolutely,” Darius said, firm. “Immediate dismissal. No reinstatement.”

He picked up the phone. “Cheryl, locate Travis Benson and have him report to my office immediately. And call security.”

Julia accepted a cup of water with hands that wouldn’t stop trembling.

Minutes dragged.

A knock. Cheryl stepped in, face tight. “Mr. Parker, we can’t find Travis. No one’s seen him since his shift started.”

Julia’s breath caught. “He was in the back with me half an hour ago.”

Darius’s eyes sharpened. “Review cameras. Make sure he didn’t leave. And call security to check exits.”

Cheryl returned again, voice tense. “He left through the service exit about forty minutes ago. Cameras show him getting into his car and driving away.”

Darius looked at Julia. “You live with your mother, right?”

“Yes,” Julia said, dread rising.

“Call her,” Darius said immediately. “Right now.”

Julia dialed Lauren’s number. Ringing. No answer. She tried again. And again.

“She’s not picking up,” Julia whispered, heart hammering.

“Cheryl, call 911,” Darius ordered. “Possible stalking situation. Possible immediate threat.”

Darius turned back to Julia, voice gentler. “Maybe she stepped outside. Maybe she can’t hear the phone. But we’re not taking chances. Security will escort you home if you want to go now.”

“I’m going,” Julia said, already standing.

Sometimes the worst part is how ordinary the hallway looks on the way to disaster.

The drive home felt endless even with the security guard speeding through Dallas traffic. Julia kept calling. Ringing. Ringing. Nothing.

When they turned onto Maple Street, Julia’s relief flashed—Lauren’s car was in the driveway.

Then her stomach dropped.

A dark blue Honda sat there too, the same kind she’d seen in the Walmart lot when Travis clocked in.

“That’s his car,” Julia said, voice thin.

“Stay in the car,” the guard ordered, grabbing his radio. “Calling for backup.”

Julia couldn’t. Not with her mother inside.

She bolted out of the car and ran up the walkway. The front door was ajar.

“Mom!” Julia yelled as she burst inside. “Mom, are you here?”

Silence answered. The house felt wrong—too still, too quiet.

She ran through rooms—living room, kitchen, bathroom, her mother’s study—empty. The guard followed, cautious, urging her back outside, but Julia was already climbing the stairs.

Halfway up, she heard voices. Lauren’s voice, low and pleading. A man’s voice beneath it—tight, controlled.

Julia reached her bedroom door and pushed it open.

Lauren sat on the edge of the bed, face pale. Travis stood by the window. In his hand was something that made the room tilt—something metallic, final, the kind of object that turned arguments into emergencies. His arm hung down, but the threat was loud anyway.

“Julia,” Travis said, smiling like this was a surprise party. “You came home early.”

Julia’s lungs forgot how to work.

“Travis,” she said carefully, stepping in just enough to keep the door open behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you,” he said simply. “We’re going away. I planned everything. A new life. Just you and me.”

“Julia, go,” Lauren whispered, eyes wide with fear.

Travis snapped his gaze at Lauren and lifted the object slightly, enough to silence the room. “Stay out of it,” he barked.

Julia lifted her hands slowly, palms open. “Travis, put it down. Please. Let’s talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” he asked, voice turning cold. “You went to Darius to get me fired. You chose Maxwell over me. You rejected my love.”

“I was scared,” Julia said, inching closer, careful not to make sudden moves. “You scared me. This isn’t love. Love doesn’t trap people.”

“How is it done then?” Travis hissed. “I paid attention. I learned what you liked. I tried to take care of you.”

“Love is respect,” Julia said softly. “It’s consent. It’s mutual.”

His face flickered—conflict, pain, then something hardening into a decision.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Travis said, voice eerily calm. “Either you stay with me…or you don’t get to be with anyone.”

Lauren surged to her feet. “No—”

“Sit down!” Travis shouted.

Julia seized the moment, pulling Travis’s attention back to her. “Travis,” she said, voice breaking, “I can’t be with you. Not like this. Not under threat.”

The calm in his face turned into something empty.

“Then you’ve made your choice,” he said.

Time slowed. Julia saw his arm rise. She saw Lauren’s horror. She heard herself whisper, “Please.”

The next moments came in a brutal blur—sharp, deafening cracks that didn’t belong in a bedroom, the kind of sound that makes your body understand danger before your mind can name it. Julia felt impact—hot, staggering pain—then the floor rushing up. Lauren screamed and moved toward her, shielding her with her own body, begging for it to stop.

Somewhere far away, sirens wailed closer.

Julia’s vision narrowed, the room tunneling into her mother’s face above her—Lauren’s mouth forming words Julia couldn’t hold onto, tears falling fast.

Travis stood frozen for a heartbeat, staring at what he’d done as if he couldn’t believe his own hands. The metallic object slipped from his grip and clattered onto the floor.

“No,” Travis whispered, voice shaking. “No, no, no…Julia.”

Shouts thundered from downstairs—police, moving fast.

Travis’s head snapped toward the door, then toward the window. Panic made his choice for him. He shoved the window open and scrambled out, disappearing into the yard.

Lauren hovered over Julia, hands pressing where she could, voice pleading, “Stay with me, baby. Stay with me. Help is coming.”

Julia tried to answer. Tried to breathe. Tried to hold on.

But the world kept dimming, like someone was turning down the lights the way Walmart never did. Her last clear thought was heartbreakingly ordinary: plans undone, a date that could’ve been the start of something good, her mother left alone.

And then, like an echo she never asked to keep, Travis’s voice replayed in her mind—words that had sounded like devotion until they turned into a cage.

The police flooded the room. Lauren screamed for an ambulance, for the ER, for anyone to fix what couldn’t be fixed fast enough.

Down the block, in the scramble of backyards and fences, Travis ran until his lungs burned. His hands were smeared with what he couldn’t outrun. He stopped under a massive tree, doubled over, shaking.

“I just wanted you to love me,” he whispered into the night, as sirens braided closer.

Soon they would find him. Soon it would be over.

Back on Maple Street, the little US-flag magnet Julia kept on her key ring—bought at a checkout lane on a bored Tuesday, because it made her smile—lay on the bedroom floor where it had fallen from her pocket in the chaos. The peeled corner caught the light from the flashing patrol cars outside, and for Lauren, later, it became unbearable and sacred at the same time: a small symbol of a life made of ordinary days, stolen by someone who mistook obsession for love.

The thing about that magnet was it didn’t keep anything from acting up at all—it just stayed behind, a quiet witness, when everything else broke.