CHAPTER FOUR #2
I whip around, scanning the area. People walk past, none of them paying attention to me. My skin prickles, and I feel like every pair of eyes could be his.
A man across the street lifts his phone, aiming it at me. My heart stops. Is he taking a picture? Is it him?
I move quickly, ducking into another alley, pressing my back to the wall, trying to breathe through the panic. My phone buzzes with another voice message. I don’t want to hear it, but I know I will. I hit play.
His voice, softer, almost like he’s whispering right in my ear:
“Little spider, little spider, why do you look so lost?
You keep running, tripping, slipping—do you know what it’ll cost?
All your friends, your safe little world, everything you knew,
I’ll take it all away from you until there’s nothing left but you.
And me. Wrapped up tight. Just us.”
My knees buckle, and I slide down the wall, fighting back tears. I can feel him everywhere—like he’s sinking into my skin, carving his words into my bones.
My hands shake as I type back.
Why me?
The reply is almost instant.
Because you’re mine. And I always take care of what’s mine.
My breath shudders out of me, and I can’t hold back the sob anymore. I press my forehead to my knees, curling tighter, wishing I could just disappear.
Then another message.
Go home, Little Spider. Lock the door. I’ll come to you. We’ll play properly this time.
I can’t move. Can’t think.
The cold sinks into my bones, and I don’t know how long I sit there, paralysed. Eventually, I force myself to stand, wiping my face with the sleeve of my hoodie. I take one step, then another, moving like I’m sleepwalking.
I make it out of the alley, blending into the crowd. I’m not going home. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t go back there. Not with him waiting.
I look down at my phone one last time before shoving it into my pocket.
Be a good girl, Raven. I’ll find you.
I break into a run, weaving through the people, my heart thundering in my chest. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t stop. I can’t let him catch me.
But deep down, I know he will.
I don’t know how long I run—streets blur together, the cold slicing through my lungs, my feet aching with every step. I can’t stop. If I stop, he’ll catch up. If I stop, he’ll find me.
I cut through side streets, weaving between parked cars and bins, ignoring the honks and curses when I dash across busy intersections. I don’t know where I’m going. I just need to put distance between me and that coffee shop, between me and his messages.
My phone vibrates again, and I force myself to keep moving. I can’t look. Can’t risk it.
When I finally slow down, I find myself on the edge of the city—a stretch of abandoned warehouses lining the riverbank. The water laps against the concrete, dark and murky, reflecting the pale grey sky.
I lean against a chain-link fence, trying to catch my breath, chest heaving, sweat cooling on my skin. I glance back the way I came, half-expecting to see him striding out of the fog.
Nothing.
I take my phone out with shaking hands, half of me terrified of seeing another message. I unlock it. Four missed texts. One voicemail. All from him.
My stomach twists, and I tap on the voicemail, pressing the phone to my ear.
His voice, low and dangerous, tinged with cruel amusement:
“Little spider, little spider, spinning through the night,
Running from the shadows, thinking she’s out of sight.
But with every step you take, I’m right there by your side.
And when you think you’re all alone, that’s when I like to hide.
Run faster, little spider, see how far you’ll get,
But webs are meant to hold you tight, and I’m not done with you yet.”
My hands go cold. I swipe to delete the message, but my phone buzzes again before I can.
Are you tired, Little Spider? You look so pretty when you’re all out of breath. I wonder if you’ll sound just as sweet when I finally catch you.
A sob tears out of my throat, and I sink to the ground, knees hitting the cracked pavement. I grip the phone so hard it hurts, trying to make sense of how he’s always so close—how he always knows exactly what I’m doing.
I pull up the camera app and turn it on, panning around me, trying to see if there’s anyone watching. I spin slowly, the camera trembling in my hand. No one. Just rusted fences and broken windows, the river churning sluggishly behind me.
I slump back against the fence, trying to force logic through the panic. He has to be watching from somewhere. Maybe he has someone helping him. Maybe he hacked into my phone. I check the screen, looking for anything unusual—any apps I don’t recognise.
Nothing. My regular apps stare back at me, as if no one had twisted them into tools of terror.
My phone pings again. Another voice message. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I can’t help it—I hit play.
His voice, sharper this time, cuts through the static of fear:
“I like when you try to fight back, Little Spider. You’re so stubborn. Do you think you can hide from me out there? In that dirty little corner of the city?
I know you’re by the river. I can almost smell the fear on your skin. It’s delicious.”
My hand flies to my mouth to stifle a scream. I turn around, eyes darting everywhere, looking for him. The warehouses loom, silent and foreboding. I feel exposed, like I’m standing in the centre of a sniper’s scope.
I bolt to the nearest building, finding a door that’s barely hanging on its hinges. I slip inside, the stale air hitting me like a slap. Broken glass crunches under my boots, and I move deeper into the shadows, ducking behind an old, rusted machine.
My phone pings again. A photo.
My heart stops.
It’s me. Right now. Crouched in the warehouse, eyes wide, looking terrified.
I scream, slapping a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. Tears sting my eyes, and I can’t breathe. I stare at the photo, trying to make sense of it. He’s here. He’s watching me. Right now.
So close, Little Spider. I could almost touch you.
My chest feels like it’s collapsing, and I can’t stop the sobs now. I type back, fingers shaking so badly I misspell every word.
What do you want? Please just tell me what you want!
The reply is instant.
You. I want you to stop running. Stop hiding. Let me catch you. I’ll make it feel so good when you finally give in.”
I curl into myself, pressing my forehead against the cold metal of the machine, trying to drown out his words. I want to wake up. I want this to be a nightmare I can shake off.
My phone buzzes again. Another voice message. My heart races as I hit play, barely able to hold it together.
His voice, almost a purr—dripping with satisfaction:
“Little spider, little spider, why are you so shy?
You know I’m right behind you—can’t you feel me breathe and sigh?
I love the way you tremble, love the way you fear,
And when you whisper for me to stop, that’s when I draw near.
Come closer, little spider, let me touch your skin.
I’ll weave my web around your heart, and that’s how I’ll get in.”
I throw the phone across the room, and it skids to a stop near the door. My entire body shakes, and I bite down on my hand to keep from screaming. I have to get out of here. I have to keep moving.
I crawl over to the phone, snatching it up, checking the screen.
Why did you throw me away? That’s not very nice, Little Spider. Didn’t your mother teach you how to be polite? You’ll have to learn better manners when you’re mine.
A sob rips through me, and I stagger to my feet, forcing myself to move, to leave this place. I push out the back door, emerging into another alley that smells like mould and rust.
I hear something behind me—a faint scuff of boots on concrete. I whirl around, but there’s nothing there. Just empty space.
My phone pings again, and I can’t help but look.
You’re so close to giving in. Just a little more, Little Spider. Let me catch you. Let me show you how good it feels to belong to me.
I break into a sprint, pushing through the pain in my legs, not knowing where I’m going—just away. Away from his voice, his words, his eyes that I can feel crawling over my skin.
But I know deep down that it’s useless.
Because he’s right.
I can’t run forever.
And when he finally catches me, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.