Chapter 15
Her
I wake up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest as fragments of last night rush back into my mind.
The room feels too still, and my body aches in ways that make me question everything.
My head throbs with a dull pain that refuses to fade, and I sit up slowly, trying to piece together what happened.
The stalker, the hammer, Ryan's screams, they all feel so vivid, but now, in the light of day, doubt creeps in like a shadow. Could it have been a dream?
My cheek stings when I touch it, a reminder of Ryan's slap, but the rest seems hazy, like my brain is playing tricks on me.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, my fingers trembling as I scroll to Maddie's number. Talking to her might help sort this out. She always knows how to ground me when things feel out of control. I hit the call button and hold my breath, hoping she picks up quickly.
The phone rings twice before Maddie's voice comes through, sounding sleepy but warm. "Ree? It's early. Everything okay over there?"
I swallow hard, my throat dry as I try to find the words. "Mads, I don't know where to start. Last night was insane. Or maybe it wasn't. I'm so confused right now."
Her tone shifts immediately, alertness kicking in. "Confused about what?"
I close my eyes, forcing myself to recall the details without letting the fear overwhelm me. "I went to Ryan's place to get my documents. He was there, and we argued. It got bad. He hit me, Mads. Grabbed my hair and slapped me hard."
Maddie's gasp is audible, filled with shock and anger. "He hit you? Again? Oh my God, Ree. Are you hurt? Why didn't you call me right away?"
Before I can answer, her voice sharpens. “Wait! Where was Al? Wasn’t he supposed to go with you?”
I sigh, pressing my fingers against my temple. “He was. But he got pulled into some project at uni at the last minute. I didn’t want to wait around, so I just… went by myself.”
I touch my cheek again, the tenderness making me wince.
"I'm sore, but that's not the worst part.
While we were fighting upstairs, someone started hammering on the front door.
It was loud, terrifying. The door broke open, and this guy in a white mask and hoodie came in.
It was the stalker. He had a hammer, and he attacked Ryan.
Beat him so badly. I thought he was going to kill us both. "
There's a long silence on her end, and I can almost hear her processing my words. "A masked guy with a hammer? Ree, that sounds like something out of a horror movie. Did you see his face?"
I shake my head even though she can't see me, tears welling up as the memories flood back.
"No, the mask hid everything. The guy came toward me, injected me with something.
I passed out, and when I woke up, I was back in my bed here.
But Mads, it felt so real. The fear, the pain. It's all still in my body."
Maddie lets out a slow breath, her voice laced with disbelief. "Okay, wow. That's a lot. You must have been terrified. But... are you sure it wasn't a nightmare? You've been under so much stress with the stalker and everything. Dreams can feel incredibly real sometimes."
Her words hit me like a punch, doubt mixing with my own confusion. "I thought that too at first. But the bruises on my arms from Ryan grabbing me. They're real. And the injection spot stings a little. How could a dream do that?"
She pauses again, her tone turning more skeptical. "Bruises could be from the fight with Ryan before you blacked out or something. Ree, I'm not saying you're making this up, but stress can mess with your head."
Frustration builds in my chest, but I know she's trying to help. "I get that, but I need to know for sure. What if the stalker was really there? What if he hurt Ryan and dragged me back here? I have to check Ryan's place."
Maddie's voice rises with worry. "Check his place? Alone? No way, Ree. If this was real, going back could be dangerous. And if Ryan's there, he might lash out again. You can't do this by yourself."
I nod to myself, appreciating her concern even as determination sets in. "You're right. But I have to see. Maybe it will prove it was all in my head. Please, Mads. Come with me? We can meet at the corner near his building."
She sighs deeply, but I hear the resignation in her voice. "Fine, but only because I don't want you going alone. I'll head out now. And Ree, if we get there and something feels off, we leave immediately. No arguments."
Relief washes over me, easing some of the tension in my shoulders. "Thank you. I promise."
I hang up and stare at the phone, my mind racing with possibilities. If it was a dream, then I'm safe, but losing my grip on reality. If it was real, then the stalker is bolder than I thought, and Ryan might be in serious trouble. Either way, the fear lingers, making my stomach churn.
I get dressed quickly, pulling on jeans and a shirt, my movements automatic as I try to push down the anxiety. The cab arrives soon after, and I give the driver the address for the corner near Ryan's place. The ride feels tense, my thoughts spiraling with what-ifs that make my heart race.
When we pull up, Maddie's car is already there, and she steps out as I approach. Her face is pale with worry, and she pulls me into a tight hug. "You look exhausted. Are you sure you want to do this?"
I hug her back, drawing strength from her presence. "I have to. The not knowing is killing me. Let's just look and go."
She nods, linking her arm with mine as we walk toward Ryan's door. "Okay, but stay close. If the door's broken like you said, we call the police right away."
As we get closer, I stop abruptly, staring at the door. It's solid, not a mark on it. Confusion hits me hard, making my head spin. "This doesn't make sense. Last night, I heard the hammer smashing it."
Maddie squeezes my arm, her voice gentle. "See? Maybe it was a dream after all. Stress can do weird things to your memory."
Frustration mixes with doubt, tears pricking my eyes. "But it felt so real. The sounds were loud. Let's go inside. Maybe there's something upstairs."
She hesitates but follows me as I unlock the door. "Alright, but quick. I don't like this place."
We step inside, and the living room looks exactly as I remember it from before the fight. No blood, no overturned furniture. My heart sinks further. "Everything's normal down here. Let's check upstairs where it happened."
Maddie nods, staying close as we climb the stairs. "If we find anything, we leave and call for help." She repeats.
In the upstairs room, my desk is cluttered but untouched. No signs of a struggle. I search the floor, the walls, desperation growing. "This can't be. I fell against the table here. There should be something."
Maddie looks around carefully, her expression a mix of sympathy and concern. "Ree. Does anything feel weird to you? Like, even a little out of place?"
I shake my head, tears welling up again. "No, it all looks fine. But Mads, I swear I felt the fear in my bones. The stalker was here. He hurt Ryan so badly. If it didn't happen, why do I remember it so clearly?"
She pulls me into another hug, slower this time, as if she’s afraid I might break. Her voice is low, careful. “I believe that you felt it.” She says. “But sometimes… when someone’s terrified for long enough, the mind starts filling in gaps. Protecting you. Or trying to.”
I pull back, wiping at my eyes with the heel of my palm. My chest feels tight. “Then where is Ryan?” I ask. “If he’s fine, if none of this happened, why isn’t he here?”
Maddie doesn’t answer immediately. Her gaze drifts toward the hallway, then the staircase, like she’s listening for something. The house feels too quiet all of a sudden.
“He could be out.” She says finally. “Work. Errands. Anything.” She forces a small shrug that doesn’t quite land. “Let’s not stay longer than we need to. Grab your documents and let’s go. I don’t want him walking in while we’re here.”
That sends a cold ripple through me. I nod quickly and move to the desk, my hands clumsier than usual as I open the drawer. The folder is right where I left it. Untouched. Of course it is.
“Got them.” I say, holding it up. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
We move fast after that. Down the stairs, through the door, the lock clicking behind us a little louder than it should. Only when I’m in Maddie’s car do I feel my body start to sag, exhaustion crashing down all at once.
I lean my head back against the seat. “Thanks for coming with me.” I murmur. “I really thought I was losing my mind.”
Maddie starts the engine, then reaches over and squeezes my hand, grounding me. “You’re not crazy.” She says firmly. “You’re traumatized. There’s a difference. And we’ll figure this out.”
The drive back is quiet, the city blurring past the windows. My thoughts feel heavy, tangled, like they’re moving through fog. After a while, Maddie speaks again, gentler now.
“When’s your next therapy session?”
I unlock my phone and check my calendar. “Today.” I say. “In a couple of hours.”
She nods, relieved. “Good. Don’t skip it. Talk to Dr. Nathaniel about this, everything. He might help you make sense of what happened. Or… what didn’t.”
I manage a small, tired smile. “I won’t skip.”
When we pull up outside my building, Maddie turns toward me. “Call me after.” She says. “Let me know how it goes.”
“I will.” I lean over and hug her, holding on a second longer than usual. “Thank you. For everything.”
She waves as I head inside, the door closing behind me with a click. Alone again, the confusion returns, but I push it down and go to the bedroom to change for therapy.
I pick a comfortable blouse and pants, something that makes me feel a bit more in control. My mind keeps replaying last night, but I focus on getting ready.
The bus arrives exactly on time, which somehow makes it worse. There’s no delay, no excuse to linger on the pavement and gather myself. I step aboard, mumble the stop to the driver, and sink into an empty seat near the back, staring out the window as the city drifts by.
The ride gives me too much space to think. Every red light stretches. Every reflection in the glass looks like someone else. Paler, hollow-eyed.
Doubt coils in my chest, tight and restless, tangling with fear until my breathing turns shallow. I try to slow it down. In for four. Out for six. It doesn’t help.
By the time I reach the building, my hands are shaking. The clock on the wall ticks louder than it should. I cross and uncross my legs, rub my palms against my jeans, check my phone without actually seeing the screen.
“Iris?”
I look up. Olivia stands in the doorway with a polite smile. “Dr. Ashcroft is ready for you.”
His office is exactly the same as always. Muted colors, soft lighting, the faint hum of the city beyond the windows. The familiarity almost undoes me.
“Good afternoon, Iris.” Dr. Nathaniel says, rising slightly from his chair. His expression is calm, practiced, steady. “Please, sit. How have you been feeling since our last session?”
I lower myself onto the couch, clasping my hands together as if they might float away otherwise.
“Not great.” I say. My voice sounds thin, distant. “Something… strange happened last night. I’m still trying to understand it.”
He nods, settling back, giving me space. “I’m here. Take your time.”
I hesitate, my throat tightening. Then the words start coming, uneven at first, then faster. As if I’m afraid they’ll disappear if I don’t say them now.
“I went to my ex’s place to get some documents. We argued. And then he…” I stop, swallow. “He hit me. Then someone broke in. He was wearing a white mask. He attacked Ryan with a hammer.”
My stomach twists as I say it. “There was so much blood. He injected me with something, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in my own bed.”
Dr. Nathaniel doesn’t interrupt.
“But today,” I continue, quieter now, “when I went back… everything was normal. No damage. No signs anyone had been there.”
He leans forward slightly, his hands resting together. “That sounds terrifying.” He says gently. “What were you feeling in that moment?”
The question cracks something open. My eyes burn. “I couldn’t move.” I say. “I was frozen. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might give out. And now…” I let out a shaky breath. “Now I don’t trust my own mind.”
He nods slowly. “That loss of trust can be deeply unsettling. What’s making you question whether it was real?”
“The evidence.” I say, frustration creeping in. “There isn’t any. My friend thinks it was a nightmare. A stress response. But it didn’t feel like one. The fear was too real. Too sharp.”
Dr. Nathaniel is quiet for a moment before speaking. “Have you experienced vivid dreams or intrusive memories before?”
“Not like this.” I say. “But with the stalker… with everything that’s been happening… maybe my brain is overloaded.”
“How do you see this experience connecting to your fear of him?” He asks.
I hug my arms around myself. “The mask. The violence. It felt like him. Like escalation. And if it really happened, then I’m in danger. But if it didn’t…” My voice falters. “Then I’m creating monsters in my own head.”
“That awareness is important.” He says. “Under extreme stress, the mind can construct memories that feel completely real. They’re built from fear, not intention.”
I stare at the floor. “So you think it didn’t happen?”
“I’m saying it’s a possibility.” He replies carefully. “Have you noticed anything that felt inconsistent?”
I think of the moment that’s been replaying in my head all day. “He whispered something to Ryan.” I say slowly. “I couldn’t hear it. But Ryan’s face. He looked… finished. Like he knew something was over. That feels too specific to be imagined.”
Dr. Nathaniel leans in slightly. “What emotion do you associate with that whisper?”
“Terror.” I say without hesitation. “Finality.”
“And how does that make you feel now?”
I press my fingers into my palm. “Like I’m losing control. Like reality is slipping.”
He nods. “That fear makes sense. When memory feels unreliable, everything else feels unstable too.”
We talk longer after that. About control. About safety. About the fear of not knowing what’s real and what isn’t. His questions are gentle but persistent, pulling at threads I didn’t realize were there.
When his assistant finally knocks, I flinch.
“We’ll stop here for today.” Dr. Nathaniel says. “I’d like you to try journaling. Separating what you know happened from how it felt. It can help anchor you.”
I nod, though my chest still feels heavy.
Outside, the world looks the same as it did this morning. Too normal. Too intact. I go home carrying a fragile sense of clarity. And a doubt that refuses to loosen its grip.