“I… I have to talk to you. I—”
Little Flower? I’ll see you soon? Is this some kind of sick joke? I look at my surroundings, scanning to see if I can find anything else suspicious. What if I’m not home alone?
“Z?” I ask hesitantly into the air. I get no response. It doesn’t hurt to check. The pounding of my heart is getting louder by the second. I grab the contents and shove them into my purse before rushing out and locking the door.
I have to ask Zoe what happened last night. Every bone in my body is screaming at me, telling me it wasn't her. And if it wasn't? I don’t know. I’m not thinking straight right now. I’ll tackle that once I get confirmation.
I swerve through traffic, running later than I already was.
Teaching class has left my mind, and it is now occupied with something much worse.
Arriving at the dance studio, I close my car door, pressing the lock button twice to hear the beep to reassure myself.
I open the front door and see Z stretching in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
“There you are! You’re late. I was about to come back home and drag your ass out of bed myself,” she says in a not-so-subtle annoyed tone.
“I… I have to talk to you. I—”
“Jesus, Dahlia, what's with the stutter? Are you okay?”
“I have to show you something,” I say with a shaky breath. My hand disappears into my purse, rummaging inside for the picture and note. I pull them out, holding them in front of Z, waiting for her to take them. She looks down at my trembling hand in confusion.
“Dahlia, tell me what's going on. What is this?” She hesitantly reaches for the papers. I can’t speak right now. All words have vanished from my mind as I watch her study the papers in her hands, her eyes darting back and forth.
“Dahlia, what am I looking at?” Her tone now filled with underlying concern. My mouth gapes open, but no words come out. I’m frozen in place. I want to say something. Anything, but all I manage to do is collapse. Outstretched arms catch me before I collide with the floor.
“Dahlia, I need you to say something. Please talk to me,” she says in a plea.
I finally muster up the words, and they spill out like vomit.
“I found this on the kitchen island right before I came here. Please tell me you're playing a sick joke on me?” I question in a panic. By the horrifyingly confused look on her face, I can tell she was not involved with whatever this is.
“I don’t even know what to say, D. Are you thinking someone came into the apartment and put these there? I didn't see anything this morning when I left. So…” she says as her eyes wander off in thought. I feel as if my attempts to take in a full breath are failing, leaving me to hyperventilate.
If the envelope wasn't there when she left, that means someone was in the apartment with me. I can feel the blood drain from my face as fear takes over. Perhaps I might just pass away right now.
Z comes running to me with a glass of water in hand.
I didn't even notice she had left my side.
“Here, drink this.” She guides the cup, lifting it to my parched lips.
Little streams of water roll down the corners of my mouth as I try to gulp.
Instead of complying, my body betrays me, making me choke.
“Dahlia, we have the cameras!” Zoe turns to me and yells. Being overwhelmed by panic, I had forgotten all about them. That's right, my father had installed cameras yesterday, leaving them on record. My body perks up in anticipation.
“Z, you are a freaking genius!” I shake her by the shoulders.
I grab my phone from my back pocket, quickly pressing on the app in the corner. I click on the video that says “Living room” and we wait for it to play. I look over at Z, who is peering over my shoulder, and she gives me the same ghastly look back.
What the fuck.
The video is showing the quiet, uneventful living room. Static appears for a microsecond and then poof, everything is normal. I press on the next camera, labeled “Kitchen,” and the same thing happens. A whole lot of nothing, zip, nada.
No, no, no. Please. I frantically click the last camera in the hallway, praying to some unknown force that this would give me something.
My heart sinks not a moment later. You guessed it.
Nothing happens again. The whole reason we had these was for occasions like this.
So much for catching anything. One second the kitchen counter is as normal as can be, and the next, the envelope pops up.
Like an unwanted magic trick. Maybe a ghost is tormenting me.
As if Z is reading my mind, she says, “No way.
There has to be a video of someone or something happening!
This isn't right; we need to call the camera company or something to figure out what happened.” I nod in agreement, still trying to wrap my head around how this could have happened and why this is happening to me.