20. Mona
Apit forms in my stomach as I fly up in bed, reality slamming into me all at once. My lungs are burning, struggling to inflate as I gasp for air, my hands cupping my throat.
A sinking feeling digs into my chest, then claws down my back, like I woke up from a horrifying nightmare and I don’t remember a thing, yet my body does, the anxiety and adrenaline still coursing through me.
“Jesus,” I mutter to Pen, a shiver running through me.
I don’t even remember passing out after work. Getting in my bed? Yes. Covering myself up with a blanket and laying my head on the pillows? Yes. Playing ASMR on YouTube on my phone to quiet my mind? Also yes. I mean, I really set myself up for quite a slumber.
Yawning, I stretch my arms over my head and pan around the room. It’s dimly lit, aside from the soft glow from my lamp on the nightstand. I grab my phone from atop the blanket and shut the video off that was autoplaying through my nap.
God, what time is it?
My eyes glaze over as a horrifying realization dawns on me. I’m frozen. It’s like my mind is finally catching up and processing the last few minutes, puzzle pieces sliding into place.
I’m suddenly aware of the sounds of the house, of the thick, eerie silence that looms in the air.
Maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe the door wasn’t …
Forcing a slow, deep breath in and out, I gain enough courage to peer up to double-check ...
My heart plummets.
My shaky breaths fill my ears, battling the sounds of my heartbeat thumping harder and harder. The door—which was, without a doubt, sealed shut when I went to sleep—is now ajar an inch from the frame, darkness seeping in from the pitch-black hallway.
“Oh God.” I shudder, fisting my blanket.
It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s Casper baiting me out and absolutely not the ghost playing tricks.
“Casper?” I whisper, eagerly waiting for his response. Or waiting for a purple glow to appear in the crevice.
But neither happens for what feels like the next thirty seconds or an hour; I’m not sure from how twisted time seems to move in a moment like this.
Just relax, Mona. You’re working yourself up over a little hide-and-seek game that Casper is playing. Stop being a scaredy-cat and play along.
I’m right—well, my inner monologue is right. Sometimes, I don’t think we’re actually one and the same with how much we bicker. But this time, I think it’s right.
Well, this is either about to be a fun date night or I’m the dumb girl in the final act who is about to get murdered. Although, if I’m the final girl, I have plot armor, so I should be fine regardless. Maybe a few bumps and bruises.
But it’s not a horror movie, and I’m not the final girl. Because this is real life, not some dramatic make-believe story.
Turning my attention back to my phone, I open Casper’s messages and send one, trying to tell him that I know he’s here and also gaslight myself into fully believing it.
Casper, you little tease. I can’t believe you got done early
I’m on my way to find you
I missed you
I really have missed him. Even though we’ve been spending all of our free time together, it’ll never be enough.
Waiting a couple of minutes for him to respond, I sigh forcefully, slipping out of bed and stepping into my tennis shoes. I’m still in my leggings and a T-shirt that I changed into after work, so at least, I’m already ready to go.
Turning on the flashlight on my phone, I’m feeling grateful that I plugged it in before I fell asleep. I tiptoe up to the door, gently easing it open and lighting the dark, empty hallway, my body trembling.
But as I slowly descend to the second floor, I gradually relax more and more, having a very solid grasp that this is indeed Casper since no one’s jumped out and attacked me. Also, if it wasn’t him, he’d let me know; he’d have seen an intruder on the cameras.
As long as he was done with his game.
Shut up. Not helping right now, I snap back.
When I finally reach the main floor without interruption or running face-first into a stranger, I open our messages again.
Where are you? I’m on the main level by the front door. What is this? A reverse chase from the matchmaking party?
You’re starting to scare me
Please just come out
Walking over to the light switches, I flip them all on, illuminating the entire area, immediately making me feel safer. At least if anyone’s in here, I’ll see them coming.
Or you just put a spotlight on yourself and announced your location.
I’ll call him, just to see if he picks up.
Although, if this is a game and he’s trying to scare me, he probably won’t answer. I’m getting tired of this really fast. The rings in my ear seem to grow louder and louder as each one passes unanswered.
His voicemail sounds, and I hang up, opening our texts and sending more, hinting that this might be going too far for me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I have a feeling like I’m being watched. My head snaps up out of instinct, my eyes landing across the foyer beside the fireplace. But I don’t see anything.
The house shrinks, crushing around my shoulders and chest until it feels like I can’t breathe. The air’s hot and thick, and all I want right now is the cool fall air on my cheeks. As I type out my next few messages, I unlock the front door and slip onto the porch. Immediately, my shoulders relax.
This isn’t funny anymore, Casper.
I’m going outside. I can’t stay in here. Come talk on the porch
Why aren’t you answering me?
Casper?
Hello?
Impatience is gnawing me alive. I’ll try calling him again, and again, and again. But as each one goes unanswered, the pit in my stomach returns. My skin goes cold, and goose bumps break out across my entire body.
What if … what if … it really isn’t Casper and I’m standing on the deck in plain view?
My feet are restless, and I let them carry me away, down the steps and off to the left, where the pumpkin patch, stands, and storage are set up against the side of the very tall veranda.
I tuck myself away between the mountain of pumpkins stacked almost as tall as me and the wall of lattice that encloses the area beneath the deck.
Are you still at the rink?
He doesn’t answer after a moment, and I’m done playing this game. My stomach is churning like I’m going to hurl, and each second becomes more likely than the last that my stomach is going to empty itself.
If this is him, I need him to end it. As much fun as we have running around together, this isn’t enjoyable for me right now.
I want to be snuggled and held and not lured outside and stalked. A different day? Yeah, absolutely, but maybe with a discussion beforehand on setting that boundary. I need to know ahead of time for my own sanity, especially with the alleged ghost running around.
Casper, please answer me! Or come out of the shadows. I’m hiding by the pumpkins because I’m so fucking scared
My blood runs cold as I hear movement for the first time—a jiggling of the doorknob on the front door. But even if it’s Casper, I don’t want to do this anymore. I mean, I didn’t really want to do it from the start. But we are far past my comfort zone.
I hear your footsteps
Ghostface
Ghostface
No response.
A heavy boot hits the deck, and I have to clench my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering. No. No. No. I’m done. I’m done.
GHOSTFACE!!
THERE, I USED IT. NOW PLEASE STOP
Tears well in my eyes as I study my screen, willing his message to appear. A phone call, anything. But he doesn’t answer, so I start calling him again, desperate for this all to end.
One, two, three, four calls later, and the reality of the situation is staring me dead in the eyes, one I can no longer ignore.
Please stop
Oh my God
Someone’s here
Outside, walking across the deck toward the stairs
I call him three more times, the voicemail announcement that follows each one bringing a new layer of fear. A tear rolls down my cheek, leaving a freezing trail from the brisk air. I’m starting to worry that my heart might explode and break all of my ribs.
Someone knew where my room was and how to access it, and either they forgot to close it and go on about their day or this was all part of their plan.
It’s not you, is it?
Casper, please answer me
Another heavy step clomps toward the stairs, and an uncontrollable whispered shriek leaves me.
Shut up! Shut the hell up!
I’m going to call the police if you don’t stop
I’m so serious
This isn’t a joke anymore!
I’ll try him one more time, and then I’ll call the cops. That’s final. But whoever’s on the porch strides forward with each unanswered ring.
They clear their throat, wet and thick. My stomach churns again, bile hitting the back of my mouth. I’m certain without a shred of doubt that whoever it is, it’s not Casper.
One more try, baby. Please pick up the phone. I press Call and wait, lifting my phone to my ear.
But any ounce of hope I have left dissipates from my body when his voice doesn’t appear on the other end.
I tuck myself tighter to the porch, crouching down so I’m further out of view. I can peek through the lattice, seeing the bottom of the stairs.
His boots slap against the wood, one by one, as he descends all the way to the paved pathway. The steps fall silent as they shift to the grass to the left, closer to me. All I can see are black boots and the bottoms of his blue jeans, and it’s all I need for pure terror to sink into my bones.
Who is this? Why the fuck is he following me?
Swiping out of my phone, I go to text Casper, possibly the last message before this man will breach the edge of the lattice. I should run. I’m fast and slippery. I’d be able to evade him.
But it’s like my feet are cemented in place, my body frozen, aside from the tears streaming down my cheeks. There are a thousand things I want to say to Casper right now. Confessions, declarations, everything in between. But the length of the porch is running out, as is my time to send this.
Cas, please hurry.