Chapter 13
Her
I stand in front of the cracked mirror in my parents' old bedroom, adjusting the hem of my sweater as I wait for Al's call. It's the next evening, and I'm dressed simply. Jeans and a loose top to make this quick trip to Ryan's place feel less daunting.
My heart races with a mix of nerves and determination because I need those documents for the job application, but the thought of seeing Ryan again twists my stomach into knots.
My phone rings, and I snatch it up, seeing Al's name flash on the screen. "Hey, Al." I say, trying to sound casual. "You on your way?"
There's a pause on the other end, and Al's voice comes through apologetic. "Ree, something came up at the studio. Critique session ran long, and now my Prof's dragging me into a meeting. I can't pick you up tonight. We can go another time, yeah? Maybe tomorrow morning?"
Disappointment hits me, but I push it down, not wanting to delay this any longer. "It's okay, Al. I can go alone. I need those papers soon. The job app's waiting."
Al's tone sharpens with concern. "No way, Ree. Don't go alone. Ryan's unpredictable. It's not safe."
I sigh, pacing the small room as frustration builds. "I'll be alright, Al. It's not far. I'll go, grab the stuff, and leave. Quick in, quick out.”
He hesitates, his worry clear even over the phone. "I don't like this. At least call Maddie. Have her on speaker or something. And if anything feels off, bail. Call me right away."
"I will." I assure him, though my pulse quickens at the thought.
I hang up and book a cab through the app, my fingers trembling slightly because going alone feels reckless, but waiting means stalling my life even more.
The cab arrives quickly, and I slide into the back seat, giving the driver Ryan's address. I try to steady my breathing as we pull away.
The ride is short, the familiar rundown streets blurring past, and when we arrive, I pay and step out, staring at the dark windows of Ryan's place. The lights are off, and relief floods me because that means he's not home.
"Thank God." I whisper to myself, unlocking the door with the spare key I still have and slipping inside quietly.
I head straight to the living room where I last saw my folder, rummaging through papers with shaky hands. My heart pounds in the silence, every creak of the floor making me jump.
"Back already?" Ryan's voice slices through the dark from behind me, low and venomous, and fear explodes in my chest, freezing me in place.
I spin around, my breath catching as he steps into the dim light from the kitchen, his face twisted with anger.
“Ryan.” The name slips out before I can stop it. I take an instinctive step backward. “I’m just here for my documents.” I add quickly, my voice stumbling over the words. “I’ll grab them and go.”
Ryan laughs. The sound is sharp and cruel, the kind that makes my skin crawl. “Documents?” He repeats slowly.
He leans against the wall like this is all a joke. “Sure. That’s why you’re sneaking in like a thief.”
His eyes drag over me with open contempt. “What? Finally done whoring around town? Bet you spread your legs for half the campus after that little video.” He sneers.
“Slut.” He shakes his head. “Always knew you were one.”
Terror tightens around my chest, his words landing like blows, but I force myself to stay calm. “Ryan.” I say carefully. “I’m not here for this.”
My voice trembles despite my effort to steady it. “I just need my papers. Please. I’ll leave right after.”
“Leave?” He scoffs. His posture straightens, anger flashing across his face. “You think you can just walk out after everything?”
He takes a slow step toward me. “You’re nothing without me, Iris.” The words come out cold. “I gave you a roof.” Another step. “Paid the bills while you played student. And this is how you repay me?”
His voice rises. “Running around telling people I abused you?” He laughs bitterly. “You’re the crazy one.”
His finger points at my chest. “Always overreacting. Making shit up for attention.”
My heart pounds harder as I edge toward the staircase. If I can just grab the folder and get out.
“I’m not making anything up.” I say quietly. My voice shakes, but I keep moving. “I just want my things.”
The stairs creak beneath my feet as I hurry up to the second floor, toward the small desk where I kept my work.
Ryan’s footsteps follow behind me. Heavy. Too close. I reach the desk and start opening drawers quickly, my hands trembling as I search through papers.
“Where the hell is it…”
Then suddenly… His hands clamp around my arms. Hard. I gasp as he yanks me backward, spinning me around to face him.
“You think you can ignore me?” He shouts. His face is inches from mine now, his breath hot and sour. “Fucking bitch.”
He shakes me violently. “Always acting so nice. Like your stupid writing makes you better than everyone.”
Pain shoots through my arms where his fingers dig into my skin.
“You’re worthless, Iris.” He spits. “A slut who can’t keep her legs closed.”
“Let go, Ryan!” I cry. My voice cracks as I try to pull away. “You’re hurting me!”
He laughs again. Then shoves me backward. “Hurting you?” His eyes burn with rage. “You deserve it, whore. After all the shit you pulled.”
His mouth twists. “Hell, that video’s probably your fault too. Teasing some creep for attention.”
His hand swings suddenly. It slams into my side. The impact knocks the breath out of me.
I gasp, doubling over. “Stop!” I choke. “Please!”
“You stop.” He snarls. His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back painfully. “Always nagging. Always complaining.”
His voice drops into something uglier. “No wonder your parents killed themselves. Couldn’t stand you either.”
The words cut deep, tears blurring my vision, but he doesn't stop, slapping me across the face, the sting exploding as I stumble and fall against the table near the window. My cheek burns, and through the haze, I glance out.
There's a guy in a hoodie with a white mask standing under the street lamp, looking straight up at me on the second floor. Terror spikes higher because who is he? Watching us?
Ryan yanks my hair again, pulling me up roughly. "Look at me when I'm talking, bitch!"
He slaps me harder, and I fall back on the table, but when I glance out, the hooded guy is gone. Like he vanished in the blink of an eye.
I freeze the instant the first hammer-blow crashes against the front door. The sound is so violent it reverberates through my entire body, making my heart slam against my ribs with a force that steals my breath.
Terror floods me in an instant, cold and unrelenting, turning my blood to ice as I realize this isn't some random noise. It's deliberate.
Ryan's grip on my hair loosens immediately, his fingers slipping away as if he's been shocked. His face drains of color, the rage that was burning in his eyes moments ago replaced by a raw, animalistic panic that makes him look smaller, weaker.
"What the fuck is that?" He hisses, his voice cracking with fear he can't hide.
Another blow lands. BOOM!! And then another, the rhythm steady and merciless, like someone is determined to reduce the door to splinters. My knees buckle beneath me, and I clutch the edge of the table to stay upright.
I know deep in my gut that this is him. The stalker, the one who's been watching me, sending those texts, the one who filmed me without me knowing. The one who promised the whole university would see me exposed.
My mind screams at me to run, to hide, but my body won't move, paralyzed by the overwhelming dread that's choking me.
The hammering stops as suddenly as it started.
Silence crashes in, thick and suffocating, pressing down on me like a weight I can't shrug off. I can hear my own pulse thundering in my ears, feel the hot tears drying sticky on my cheeks from Ryan's earlier slaps.
Ryan's breathing comes in ragged gasps beside me, and he takes a hesitant step toward the door, then another, as if he's trying to summon the courage to confront whatever is out there.
But his hands are shaking. I can see them trembling. And it only heightens my terror because if he's scared, what chance do I have?
Then the new sound begins. Slow, deliberate scratches climbing the stairs. It's metal dragging on wood, each scrape sending shivers down my spine like nails on a chalkboard, but a thousand times worse because it's real, it's coming closer, and it's intentional.
My stomach flips inside out, nausea rising sharp and bitter in my throat. I want to scream for help, but my voice is trapped, strangled by the fear that's wrapped around my neck like invisible hands.
Ryan's voice cracks through the silence, laced with panic he can't mask. "I said, who is it? Answer me, asshole!"
No response comes. Just the relentless scratching, growing louder, nearer.
The doorknob rattles once, the sound jarring in the heavy quiet, and my heart hammers so hard I think it might burst. It rattles again, more insistent, and I back up against the wall, my hands pressed flat to the cool surface as if it can protect me.
Please, no, I think desperately, tears streaming fresh down my face. Please don't let him in.
The door flies open with a deafening slam against the wall, the force of it shaking the frame.
He steps in.
The white mask gleams in the dim light, blank and emotionless, hiding everything behind it. The hood is up, casting shadows over what little I can see, and he's tall, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud.
The hammer dangles from his gloved hand. The empty eyeholes of the mask fix on us, bottomless voids that suck the air from my lungs.
Ryan charges forward like a fool, his voice roaring with false bravery. "Get the hell out of here! Who the fuck are you?"
The masked man doesn't flinch. He dodges Ryan's wild swing effortlessly, and in one fluid motion, he brings the hammer down low and fast. The sickening crunch of metal meeting bone echoes through the room as it connects with Ryan's kneecap.
Ryan drops instantly, a guttural howl ripping from his throat that doesn't even sound human. "My leg! Fuck. You broke my leg!"
I scream then, the sound tearing out of me raw and piercing, fueled by the horror unfolding before my eyes. Terror overwhelms me completely, my body shaking uncontrollably as I scramble backward until my spine hits the desk.
I'm trapped, cornered between the window and this monster in a mask. "Stop! Please. Stop it!" I beg, my voice breaking on every word.
The masked man ignores my pleas entirely. He steps over Ryan as if he's nothing more than an obstacle, and raises the hammer again, bringing it down on Ryan's lower back with a wet crack that makes my stomach lurch.
Ryan's scream turns into a broken, sobbing wail as he writhes on the floor. "No… no… please, no more! Stop!"
I can't stop screaming now, the sounds pouring out of me in desperate waves. "Leave him alone! Please, God, just leave him alone!"
My voice cracks, tears blurring my vision so badly I can barely see, but the horror of it all keeps playing out.
The masked man drops to one knee in front of me, his blank white face filling my entire field of vision. I shrink back as far as I can, my body trembling so violently that my teeth chatter together.
The empty eyeholes stare into me, bottomless and soulless, and I feel like I'm being swallowed whole by the darkness behind them. "Please. Don't…" I sob, curling into myself as tightly as I can. "Please. Don't hurt me."
He doesn't speak. Doesn't make a sound. He just reaches into his pocket and pulls out a syringe, the needle glinting under the light.
Before I can even flinch or scream again, he grabs my arm and slides the needle in. The sharp prick is followed by a cold rush spreading through my veins, numbness following fast behind it.
"No…" I slur, my tongue feeling thick and heavy in my mouth. "What... what did you… do to me?" My vision starts to swim, the room tilting sideways as my limbs grow heavy.
The masked man stands up then, turning back to Ryan. He grabs him by the hair, yanking his head back with brutal force. Ryan's eyes go wide with pure, unfiltered terror, his swollen face contorted in pain and fear.
The masked man leans down, his mask inches from Ryan's ear, and whispers something, words I can't catch over the roaring in my head, but whatever it is makes Ryan's body go rigid, his one good eye bulging in horror.
Then, with a final, vicious motion, the masked man slams Ryan's face into the floor. The thud is wet and final, blood splattering across the wood as Ryan goes limp, his body still.
"No." I cry, but my word slur, the drug pulling me under fast.
He approaches me slowly, and I feel another prick in my arm. No, wait, that was before, but everything is blurring now, my eyelids too heavy to keep open.
"Please..." I mumble, collapsing sideways as the numbness spreads, dragging me into darkness.
~
When I open my eyes again, everything feels wrong.
My head throbs like it's been split open, pain pulsing behind my eyes as I try to focus. The air smells of rust and blood, metallic and thick, choking me.
A single weak bulb swings overhead, casting sickly, shifting light over the scene. Chains are bolted to the wall, rusted and heavy, and there's a drain in the center of the concrete floor, stained dark with something I don't want to think about.
Ryan is a few feet away from me. He's... ruined.
"Ryan?" My voice comes out as a broken whisper, fear choking me so tightly I can barely get the word out.
He doesn't answer. Doesn't even twitch. It feels like a dream.
Too vivid, too nightmarish to be anything but my mind's twisted creation.
I blink hard, tears spilling down my cheeks again, and the edges of the room blur, softening the horror just enough to make me doubt.
I just want to sleep. Just want it all to stop, to wake up from this endless cycle of fear and pain.
The darkness tugs at me insistently, pulling me back under, and I don't fight it this time.