55. Sage #2
“Sage, Hey!,” his low, gravelly voice vibrated through the line. The background noise on his end was quieter tonight—no sirens, no shouting, just the faint, steady hum of a generator. “God, I missed your voice. How was your day? Are you okay ?”
“Everything’s fine on my end,” I said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. I forced a small, shaky laugh, desperate to cling to the comfort of his voice. “I’m just… I’m at home. On the couch. Drinking wine and watching a terrible movie.”
“Sounds perfect,” he murmured, though there was a slight edge to his tone, like he was carefully analysing every syllable I spoke. “What did you do today?”
“Nothing crazy,” I lied smoothly. I traced the rim of my wine glass, trying to steady my breathing. “I actually talked to my dad this morning. He called from a golf convention. He’s been nagging me to come home for a weekend—though God only knows why. I’ll just be ignored the whole time anyway.”
I kept rambling for a minute, talking about my dad’s garden and his complaints about the weather, using the mundane details as a shield against the creeping terror of the afternoon.
But Julian wasn’t a normal man, he couldn’t be fooled.
“Sage. Stop.”
His voice cut through my nervous rambling like a knife. It wasn’t harsh, but it was heavy with demanding authority.
I clamped my mouth shut.
“What is wrong?” he asked, the static on the line crackling with his sudden tension. “Your voice is tight. Your breathing is shallow. You sound like you’re a million miles away, and you’re lying to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
My throat tightened. I pulled the heavy blanket all the way up to my chin, staring blindly at the bright colours flashing on the television screen. I didn’t want to sound crazy. I didn’t want him to worry when he was sitting in a war zone.
“I…” I swallowed hard, a traitorous tear pricking the corner of my eye. “I think I’m just sleep-deprived. The stress of exams are getting to me, and I’m just being paranoid.”
“Sage,” he growled, a dark, protective warning slipping into his tone. “Do not lie to me please.”
The dam broke. The overwhelming heavy terror of the day finally spilled out.
“Someone is following me, maybe..,” I whispered, my voice trembling so badly I had to grip the phone with both hands.
“I was at the grocery store, and I felt it. That weird, unexplainable feeling of being watched. And then I went to the library, and there was this car. A black SUV with tinted windows. It followed me. It followed every single turn I took all the way back to my apartment. I thought I lost them, but when I pulled into the driveway, they drove past. So slowly. Just… staring.”
A dead, terrifying silence fell over the line.
I could hear his breathing change.
“Are your doors locked?” he asked, his voice dropping to a unnervingly calm, whisper that made the hair on my arms stand up.
“Yes,” I rushed out. “I locked the deadbolt. I locked the windows, the sliding glass door, I pulled all the curtains shut—”
Right as the words left my mouth,
The television screen suddenly went black.
The lamps in the living room died. The faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen cut out. The heavy, suffocating darkness of the apartment swallowed me whole, broken only by the frantic hammering of the rain against the roof.
I gasped, a sharp, terrified sound ripping out of my throat as the silence crashed down around me. “Julian, my power went out!”
“I’m here,” his low, gravelly voice vibrated through the speaker, a sudden anchor in the pitch-black room. “I’ve got you. It’s just the power sage. The storm probably knocked a line down somewhere. Try not to freak out.”
“I can’t,” I whispered, my chest heaving. My anxiety was a physical weight, squeezing the air out of my lungs with every thought. I pulled my knees tightly against my chest, my wide eyes and blind in the dark. “Julian, I’m scared. What if it wasn’t the storm?”
“Hey. Listen to my voice,” he commanded softly, the certainty in his tone forcing me to take a shaky breath. “You locked the doors. You are safe. Do you have a flashlight? A candle?”
“Um… yes. Candles,” I stammered, my grip on the phone painfully tight. “In the kitchen drawer.”
“Okay. Go get one. Keep me on the phone,” he instructed.
I slowly pushed the blanket off my lap, my bare feet hitting the freezing hardwood floor. I held my phone tightly against my ear, using my free hand to blindly feel my way along the back of the sofa. The apartment felt different in the dark. It felt massive. It felt hostile.
I tiptoed to the kitchen, my breathing shallow and fast. I reached the edge of the kitchen counter, my fingers brushing against the cold granite as I guided myself to the drawers.
And then, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Creak.
The sound was undeniable in the silent apartment. It came from the narrow, internal staircase just off the kitchen that led up to my loft bedroom.
I froze, my hand hovering over the drawer. The blood in my veins turned to ice.
Creak.
It was a slow, deliberate footstep. Someone was walking down the stairs.
I stopped breathing entirely. I couldn’t see a single thing, but the heavy, paralysing sensation of being hunted hit me. I could feel the presence of someone radiating off that eerily dark staircase. It was a cold, suffocating energy that made every instinct in my body roar to life.
“Julian,” I breathed, my voice so faint it was barely a vibration of air. “I think someone is in here.”
The steady, calming presence on the other end of the line instantly vanished, replaced by a explosive panic.
“Just breathe, you’re safe, nobody is there,” he tried reassuring me.
Creak. Creak.
The footsteps were moving faster now. Calculated and heavy. Descending the last few steps.
I panicked. I spun around in the dark, my foot catching the edge of the kitchen rug.
My shoulder took the brunt of the impact as I stumbled, a sharp cry catching in my throat.
The phone hit the floor with a sickening smack, the screen shattered as it slid away from me.
I scrambled backwards, my wide, blind eyes locked on the bottom of the staircase as I heard the final footstep hit the landing.
They were standing right there. Just feet away from me.
I opened my mouth to scream—
BAM.
The power surged back on, followed by the kitchen lights. In the living room, the television blared back to life, the loud, cheerful dialogue of the romantic comedy echoing sharply off the walls.
I flinched, throwing an arm up to shield my eyes from the sudden assault of light. I pressed my back flat against the wall, my chest heaving uncontrollably.
I lowered my arm, my eyes frantically adjusting to the glare.
I spotted my phone on the floor, lunging forwards to grab it before Julian hung up.
I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the light and stared at the landing.
Nothing. There was no one standing in the kitchen.
No shadows. No stalker. The heavy curtains over the sliding glass door were still perfectly drawn and undisturbed.
The front door deadbolt was still engaged exactly where I had left it.
“Sage!” Julian’s voice was a frantic shout, vibrating through the speaker of the phone. “Talk to me! Are you okay?!”
“What the hell happened?”
I swallowed hard, a hot, flush of deep embarrassment and utter confusion washed over me, replacing the terror.
“Nothing,” I whispered. I rubbed my forehead, suddenly feeling a massive, throbbing headache building behind my eyes.
I let out a ragged, self-deprecating sigh, sagging against the wall as the adrenaline suddenly crashed, leaving me weak and exhausted.
“I’m fine,” I said, though my heart was still hammering.
I looked down at the phone in my hand, the screen a shattered map of light that pricked at my fingertips.
“Everything is okay, really. Except I’ve cracked my phone screen when I dropped it.
The apartment is empty. The doors are all still locked from the inside, I’m just being jumpy. ”
He went silent. The kind of prolonged silence that meant he did not believe me.
“Sage—”
“I’m just losing my mind, that’s all,” I interrupted, a pathetic, exhausted laugh bubbling out of my chest. I dragged a shaking hand through my messy hair.
“I’m hallucinating sounds now. I’ve barely slept in three days, I’m stressed about school, keeping up with my new classes, and that stupid car earlier just set me off.
I just panicked over a creaky floorboard. ”
“I promise , I’m okay. I’m just so tired. I’m going to double-check the locks, shower, and just… go to sleep. I promise I’m safe.”