CHAPTER FOUR
RAVEN
The bus rattles down the cracked, uneven road, the engine wheezing like it might give out any second. I press my forehead against the smudged window, watching the city blur past in shades of grey and grime. My fingers are numb from gripping the seat too tightly, but I can’t make myself let go.
The bus is nearly empty—a few tired-looking souls scattered in the worn seats, eyes glazed over, lost in their own misery. I should feel safer with people around me. I don’t.
My phone vibrates again. I don’t look at it. I can’t.
The driver calls out the next stop, but I don’t recognise the name. I don’t care where I’m going as long as it’s away from him. My eyes sting, and I blink rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.
A memory slips through the cracks of my mind—being followed before. Back in that small town where I used to live. Notes on my car, things moved around in my yard. It had been a boy from school—someone I’d barely noticed until he made it impossible not to.
This isn’t the same. This is different. He’s different.
My phone vibrates again, and I glance down without meaning to. A message from Sam.
Where are you? Are you okay? You didn’t come back to the shop.
I type back with shaky hands.
I’m fine. Just needed some air.
I want to tell her the truth. I want to dump this fear on someone else’s shoulders, just for a minute, just to breathe. But the thought of saying it out loud makes it more real, more suffocating.
The bus jolts over a pothole, and I grip the seat harder. My phone buzzes again—another message from the unknown number. My stomach churns, but I open it anyway.
You look lost, Little Spider. Want me to guide you home?
My heart slams against my ribs. I scan the bus, my gaze darting from face to face. An old man, a woman with a sleeping child, a guy in a hoodie staring at his phone. None of them look at me. None of them feel like him.
My breathing speeds up, and I try to steady it, pressing my fingers to my temples. I shouldn’t have run without a plan. I’m making it too easy for him.
The bus pulls to a stop, and I realise it’s near the river—the same murky water that snakes through the city like a dirty vein. I get off without thinking, feet hitting the cracked pavement. The air is colder here, damp and sharp, and I pull my hoodie tighter around me.
There’s a small park by the water—rusted swings creaking in the wind, paint peeling from the metal frames. I sit on a bench, the wood splintered and rough beneath me.
I glance at my phone again. I don’t want to see another message, but I can’t help it. It’s like picking at a scab.
I unlock the screen. Nothing new. I almost feel disappointed.
My pulse thuds against my skull, and I force myself to focus on the water, the sluggish way it moves under the iron-grey sky. I try to ground myself—breathe in, breathe out.
The phone buzzes, and I flinch so hard I nearly drop it. A voice message. My thumb hovers, but I can’t stop myself. I press play.
His voice is low, intimate, almost like a lullaby.
“Incy wincy spider, crawling up her spine,
Hoping that the shadows keep her safe and fine.
Down comes the whisper, brushing past her neck.
And the poor little spider knows she’s caught in my web.
Tears slide down her cheeks, thinking I’m far away.
But I’m just a breath behind her—she’ll never get away.”
I drop the phone onto the bench, covering my mouth to keep from screaming. My entire body shakes, and I press my back against the wood, wishing it would swallow me whole.
Another message pings. I force myself to look.
Why are you hiding from me? You’re mine, Little Spider. You know that, right? I’m the only one who sees you.
A sob claws its way out of my throat, and I bury my face in my hands. I don’t want to believe it, but a part of me knows it’s true. He’s always watching. He’s always there.
I hear footsteps approaching, and I freeze. My heart stops, every muscle locking up. I can feel someone standing behind me—feel their presence, dark and consuming. I turn slowly, barely daring to breathe.
A man walks past, oblivious to my panic, talking loudly on his phone. I let out a shaky breath, wiping my face on my sleeve.
My phone buzzes. I look down.
You’re so pretty when you’re scared. Makes me want to wrap you up, keep you close. Maybe I will. Maybe tonight.
I shove the phone back into my pocket and stand, legs unsteady. I need to keep moving. Staying in one place is making me an easy target.
I cross the street, nearly getting clipped by a car. The driver honks, and I barely register it, just pushing forward until I reach a more crowded area.
I duck into a coffee shop, the smell of burnt beans and cinnamon assaulting my senses. I slump into a corner booth, pressing my back to the wall where I can see the door.
The barista eyes me with mild concern, but I avoid eye contact, digging through my bag for a few crumpled bills. I order a black coffee just to have something in my hands.
The phone vibrates again, and I force myself to check. Another voice message. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, but I can’t help it. I press play.
His voice, softer now, like a confession:
“I wonder how it feels to be so breakable. To know that any moment, I could reach out and shatter you. Would you fight me, Little Spider? Would you scream for me? Or would you finally understand that fighting just makes it worse?”
I swallow hard, trying to choke down the fear clawing up my throat. My hands are shaking so badly that I spill a little coffee onto the table.
I know I should go to the police, but the idea of explaining this makes my head spin. They’ll think I’m crazy. They’ll think I’m just some paranoid girl who can’t handle her own fears.
My phone vibrates one more time, and I finally break.
You can’t run from me. I’ll always find you. I’m already closer than you think. Maybe I’ll be the one to wake you up tomorrow. Would you like that, Little Spider?
I drop the phone onto the table, covering my face with my hands. My whole body feels stiff, like he’s wrapped around me, squeezing until I can’t breathe.
I don’t know how to escape him.
And deep down, I know that’s exactly how he wants it.
I don’t know how long I sit there, huddled in the coffee shop’s corner, the bitter taste of fear mixing with stale coffee on my tongue. People come and go, oblivious to the way I’m falling apart, their laughter and casual chatter like static buzzing in my ears.
I can’t stop looking at the door, half-expecting him to walk in. I picture him—tall, dark, leather gloves stretching over his knuckles, eyes so cold they could slice through me without trying. The image makes me nauseous.
My phone sits face down on the table, but I can feel it pulsing like a heartbeat, waiting to taunt me again. I don’t want to look. I can’t handle another message. But the silence is almost worse—like he’s deliberately giving me space to fall apart.
My coffee’s gone cold, but I wrap my hands around the cup, hoping the lingering warmth will ground me. I glance at the window, searching in the reflection for anyone watching.
Nothing. Just strangers. Just life moving on without noticing me.
The phone buzzes again. I jerk so hard I almost knock the cup over. My hands are shaking as I pick it up, flipping it over.
Another message from him. My stomach drops.
Why are you hiding, Little Spider? Don’t you know I’ll always find you?
A noise lodges in my throat, halfway between a sob and a scream. I shove the phone back down, forcing my breathing to slow, forcing my thoughts to line up. He can’t be everywhere. He’s not a ghost. He’s just a man—dangerous, obsessed—but just a man.
I push the cup away and pull my knees up, curling into myself. My phone vibrates again, but I ignore it, pressing my forehead against my knees.
I think of Sam—how she would tell me to stand up, fight back. How she’d drag me to the police whether or not I wanted to go. I should call her. Tell her everything.
But what if he’s watching her too? What if I drag her into this nightmare just by reaching out?
My thoughts spiral, crashing into each other, and I can’t make sense of anything anymore. The fear is like a live wire, snapping and sparking through my veins.
The phone buzzes, a long vibration, and I know it’s another voice message. I force myself to pick it up, thumb trembling as I press play.
His voice, a low, taunting melody:
“Incy wincy spider, crawling in the dark,
Hoping that her frantic steps will leave no trace or mark.
But shadows know her secrets; they wrap around her tight.
And every time she whispers ‘no,’ I’m there to make it right.
Down comes the silence, smothering her scream.
And when the morning wakes her, I’ll be inside her dream.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my palm against my mouth to keep from sobbing. My chest hurts, tight and burning. I’m trapped, caught in this endless game where I don’t know the rules.
I text back, fingers unsteady.
Leave me alone. Please.
The response is immediate.
You don’t really want that, do you? You like the chase. You like the fear. I can see it in your eyes every time you look for me. You’re hoping I’m there, waiting to catch you.
I want to scream that he’s wrong, that I don’t want any of this, but the words stick in my throat.
The barista comes over, eyeing me cautiously. “You okay?”
I nod too quickly, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah. Just… rough morning.”
She hesitates, like she doesn’t believe me, but eventually shrugs and goes back to wiping down the counter.
I can’t stay here. If he knows where I am, if he’s watching… I can’t just sit here waiting for him to come closer.
I grab my phone and shove it into my pocket, practically stumbling out onto the pavement. The cold air bites at my face, but I keep moving, head down, shoulders hunched. I need to think. Need to plan.
My phone vibrates again, and I can’t help but check.
Don’t leave, Little Spider. I was just about to join you.