Page 37 of Hellebore

“Yeah, I don’t care. I’m driving you to work, then I’ll go to the store and pick you up later.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

“Yes, ma’am.” I joke. She gives me the look before cracking a small laugh.

“Sorry… I just want to make sure you’re safe,” she says softly. I can see the fear lingering in her eyes.

“Well, if I’m not safe, then you’re putting yourself in danger too.” I try to smile. She just shrugs.

“Whoever it is can’t take both of us.” The confidence in her voice is comforting, even if I know it’s partly for show. Lucille is tall, strong, and has a mean right hook. Still, the idea of her getting hurt because of me makes my stomach twist.

We arrive at the bakery and today is the day the stalker is supposed to pick up his cake. If he shows.

“Don’t leave until I come get you, you hear me?” Lucille calls as I step out of the car.

“Girl, you’re gonna make an amazing mom someday,” I laugh. She rolls her eyes and drives off.

I step inside. Only two regulars are at the counter. I wave at the girls working the front and slip into the kitchen, my safe little corner.

I’ve always loved baking, but I never imagined I’d be good enough to work here. The bakery isn’t big, but the clients are loyal and the orders are always interesting. When Lucille got me this job, I was too scared to face customers, so Christine, the owner and Lucille’s mom’s best friend, let me hide in the back. I spent a whole year learning from her. Now I mostly work on special orders, especially the darker ones. My black cakes with bleeding hearts went viral on social media, and suddenly that became my signature.

I love it here. It feels like control in a world that keeps trying to take it from me.

I check the time and pull the cake from the fridge. It’s almost done. I just need to finish the hellebore flowers.

I put my headphones in and the music starts playing. My hips sway as I carefully pipe delicate sugar leaves around the large black hellebore in the center.

The song ends just as Cordelia walks in.

“Hey, what time is the client coming for this?” I ask, nodding toward the cake.

“Around five,” she replies with her usual soft smile.

I nod and keep working, trying to stay focused.

The day drags on. I replace sold items, make pink and pastel cake pops for a birthday, and lose myself in the rhythm of sugar and buttercream. When I finally look at the clock again, it’s ten past five.

No one has come for the cake.

It starts to get dark outside. We’re closing soon when, suddenly, every light in the bakery cuts out.

The world plunges into darkness.

My heart slams against my ribs. A second later the fire alarm explodes through the building, shrill and deafening.

I freeze.

“Briar!” Christine’s voice cuts through the chaos. Her hand grabs my arm, tight and urgent. “Let’s get out. Now!”

She pulls me toward the front with Cordelia and the few remaining customers. My legs feel numb. Panic claws up my throat as we stumble outside into the cool evening air. People are already gathering, staring, murmuring.

No smoke. No fire. But the alarm keeps screaming.

The firetruck arrives quickly. Two firefighters rush inside while we stand huddled on the sidewalk. My hands won’t stop shaking. For one terrifying moment I thought the whole place was going to burn down with me inside.

After what feels like forever, one of the firefighters comes back out.

“Everything’s clear,” he tells Christine. “Looks like a fuse blew. Set the alarm off.”

I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm my racing heart as Christine walks with him to check the panel.