CHAPTER 11

Sunday evenings were always the hardest. They marked the end of something warm and familiar, the last stretch of comfort before I was left to my own devices again.

I stood outside on the front porch, arms wrapped tightly around my parents, breathing in their familiar scent—Mom’s floral perfume and Dad’s faint cologne mixed with the smell of fresh laundry. I held on just a little longer than usual, not wanting to let go.

“I love you guys so much,” I whispered, my voice slightly cracking.

“We love you too, sweetheart,” Dad said, ruffling my hair like he always did.

“No, I love you more baby,” Mom cooed, squeezing me one last time. Then she pulled back, giving me a pointed look. “Oh, and remember what I told you—it’s not too late to have fun.” She winked.

I groaned. “Dad, take your wife away now.”

Dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, honey, time to go.”

They got into their car, and I stood there, watching them drive away. The red taillights of their car grew smaller and smaller until they finally disappeared at the end of the street.

And then I was alone.

I let out a deep sigh, wrapping my arms around myself as the silence settled around me. It was a strange contrast—just moments ago, I was engulfed in love and warmth, and now, all of that had been replaced by a hollow quietness.

I turned back toward the house, stepping inside and immediately locking the door behind me. I double-checked it just to be sure.

The house was too quiet now.

The kind of quiet that made my skin prickle. The kind that made every little sound seem louder than it should be.

I shook off the unease and headed to the kitchen, trying to focus on something simple—food. I wasn’t really hungry, but I needed to eat something, if only to distract myself.

Noodles.

Quick. Easy. Minimal effort.

I grabbed a packet, boiled some water, and leaned against the counter as I waited. My fingers tapped restlessly against the surface, my mind wandering despite my best efforts to keep it busy.

I was just being paranoid.

That’s what I kept telling myself.

Still, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that had been lingering all day—the sensation of being watched. It had started at the restaurant, and even now, it refused to go away.

I turned my head toward the window. The blinds were drawn, but for a split second, I imagined someone standing out there. A shadowy figure just beyond the glass, watching.

I swallowed hard and quickly turned away, forcing a laugh at my own ridiculous thoughts. “Get a grip, Sophia,” I muttered under my breath.

The kettle whistled, snapping me out of my paranoia. I finished making my noodles, grabbed a fork, and took my bowl with me to my room.

The silence was still pressing against me, making the walls feel closer than they actually were.

I needed noise.

I grabbed my phone and turned on some music, letting the soft hum of a familiar song fill the empty space.

Better.

Finally, I sat down at my desk and pulled out my laptop. I had an essay due on Tuesday, and I needed to focus. School was one of the only things I had control over. No distractions. No overthinking.

I stared at the blank document, took a deep breath, and started typing.

But even as I tried to concentrate, that eerie feeling never truly left me.

Like someone was still out there. Watching. Waiting.

----

"Finally," I muttered, clicking the submit button. A wave of relief washed over me as my essay was officially done. Stretching my arms above my head, I let out a long sigh. That took forever.

Glancing at the clock, I realized it was already midnight. At least I don’t have classes tomorrow. That was the only silver lining. My body ached from sitting for so long, so I decided to take a hot shower before bed.

The warm water felt heavenly against my skin, washing away the stress of the day. By the time I stepped out, I felt lighter, more at ease. I slipped into my nightdress, towel-drying my hair as I made my way to the window.

Old habits die hard.

I hesitated before shutting the curtains, my eyes scanning the darkness outside. My breath caught for a second, but—nothing. The street was empty, no shadowy figures lurking in the distance. Maybe I really had been imagining things. Maybe the guy at the restaurant was just a coincidence.

Letting out a relieved sigh, I pulled the curtains closed and climbed into bed. The mattress felt softer than usual, my body sinking into the warmth of my blankets. Finally, I let myself relax, allowing the exhaustion to take over. My eyelids grew heavy, and within minutes, I drifted into sleep.

---

I woke up to a touch.

Something cold, light, barely there—trailing along my arm. My mind was groggy, still caught between dreams and reality. Did I imagine that?

Then I felt it again. Fingers. Someone’s fingers.

My eyes shot open.

And there he was.

Looming over me.

The same man from the restaurant. The same man I had felt watching me for weeks.

My breath caught in my throat as panic surged through my body. I tried to move, to scramble away, but something held me back. My wrists. Tied. I yanked at them, but the bindings didn’t budge.

My chest tightened, fear creeping up my spine like ice.

A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips as he leaned in, his voice a low whisper.

"Wake up, princess," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. "It’s more enjoyable if you're fully awake."