Chapter 1 – Violet #2
When we get to my room, she flicks on the bedside lamp and pulls back the covers. I climb in without a word, curling on my side as she tucks the blanket over me.
“You’re okay,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You’re safe now, Vee.”
I don’t answer. I just close my eyes and try to pretend I didn’t see what I saw. Try to pretend that the cold blue eyes from that alley haven’t taken root inside my skull.
Noelle sits beside me for a moment longer, fingers running gently through my hair. She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to.
Eventually, she rises and tiptoes out of the room, pulling the door halfway shut behind her.
I stare at the ceiling for a long time, my camera just a room away, the images inside it burned into me even though I haven’t looked at them yet.
But sleep finds me. Uneasy and restless, but still sleep.
A few moments later, I find myself back in the alley. I’m running.
The alley is darker this time. Narrower. The brick walls on either side feel like they’re closing in on me with every step I take. My breath saws in and out of my lungs, and my heart is pounding so loud I can barely hear anything else.
Except the footsteps behind me. Heavy. Measured. Unbothered.
He’s not running—he doesn’t need to. He knows he’ll catch me.
The man with the icy blue eyes.
I risk a glance over my shoulder. He’s there. His face shadowed, but those eyes glow like twin blades under moonlight. Cold. Certain. Like he’s already decided what he’ll do to me when he gets his hands on me.
I scream. No sound comes out.
My car—there it is, parked right where I left it. I lunge for it, yanking at the door handle.
It won’t open.
The key’s in my hand, I’m sure of it, but it won’t fit. My fingers are shaking too hard. I fumble, curse, slam my palm against the glass. I try again.
Nothing.
“Help!” I scream. “Somebody help me!”
No one comes. I look back. He’s there. Right there.
He grabs me. Slams me against the cold metal of the car door, one hand around my throat, the other pinning my wrist.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. All I can see are those eyes.
“I saw you,” he whispers, voice low and thick. “And now you’re mine.”
I scream again. And wake up—gasping, tangled in my sheets, drenched in sweat. My heart is thundering. My hands are clenched so tightly they hurt.
But I’m alone. It was a dream—a nightmare.
The last time I had a nightmare was when Nana died. I was seventeen.
My hands shake as I sit up, and I touch a hand to my chest to keep myself from breathing so hard.
Several minutes pass, and I finally slip out of bed, feeling more in control. Maybe Noelle is right. Maybe they didn’t see me clearly. If they had followed me up, I’d be long gone.
My legs feel shaky beneath me as I head to the door, but I’m starting to feel a lot better.
“Noelle?” I call out softly, stepping into the hallway.
Silence.
“Noelle?” I try again, louder this time. But no footsteps. No sleepy groan. Nothing.
I make my way toward her room and nudge the door open.
It’s empty. Bed untouched. Of course. She’s gone to work.
She always leaves around this time. Night shifts, she says—but she’s never told me what exactly she does.
Not once. I’ve asked before, months ago, but Noelle had just smiled and said, “I’ll tell you later. ”
We never used to keep secrets between us, but since she dropped out, it’s been weird.
I shut her door and head toward the kitchen.
A glass of water should help. Anything to stop my heart from galloping out of my chest. I pass through the living room, eyes still bleary and half-caught in the haze of sleep—
And then I stop.
My camera.
It’s gone.
My eyes snap to the coffee table where Noelle placed it last night. It’s gone. And now, in its place, is something else.
A note. Just a small slip of paper folded neatly in half. I stare at it. My skin prickles.
Did Noelle take the camera?
Curiously, I walk toward the table, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. Slowly, I reach out and flip the note open.
You took something that doesn’t belong to you.
That’s all it says.
Just that.
But it’s enough to send a chill racing down my spine.
I stare at the note as if it might burn through my skin, my breath turning shallow. The air in the room feels too still, too quiet, like the house itself is holding its breath. I read it again. And again. My eyes can’t seem to move away, locked on those words like they’re alive.
My throat goes dry.
I fold the note slowly, mechanically, like my brain isn’t really attached to my body. My palms are slick with sweat, even though the apartment is freezing. I wrap my arms around myself, but it does nothing to stop the tremble working its way through my bones.
I take a step back from the coffee table—then another.
The walls suddenly feel closer. The windows darker. My heart is hammering so loud, I’m sure the neighbors can hear it.
Noelle’s not home.
I’m alone.
And someone’s been here.
Someone came into our home, into our space, and took my camera—left this cryptic, threatening message like a calling card. And I didn’t even hear a sound.
My eyes dart toward the front door.
It’s locked. But that doesn’t calm me.
Not now.
I press my back to the wall and slide down, curling my knees to my chest. My fingers clench the note tighter than I mean to, crumpling it slightly.
This isn’t a joke.
This isn’t just about a photograph anymore.
Someone knows I saw something, and they will punish me for it.