Athalea

Turned

She turned the corner toward her apartment, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. Despite the lingering tension of the upcoming exam, she couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips.

This might just be the start of something interesting.

It was already 9 p.m., just as Mia had expected. She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the dark brown little dress she had chosen for the night. Pepper, as usual, was being her playful self, teasing Mia with a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Your boots, Mia... really? Your mom's boots?" Pepper pointed out, Mia's heart dropped for a second as she looked down at the boots, remembering her mother. The weight of longing washed over her, and she tried to brush it off with a sigh. I wonder how she’s doing... Her mind wandered to that familiar ache. With a heavy heart, she muttered, "Come on, Pepper. Let’s go."

Stepping outside the apartment, Mia felt a chill in the air, a slight unease creeping in. She paused for a moment, glancing at the door to Xian’s apartment. It was ajar. The harsh creak of the door echoed unnervingly in the silence of the night. A strange feeling bubbled up in her chest as she stepped closer. The scent of blood hit her before she saw it. She froze. There was blood. Everywhere. The sound of things clicking and shifting in the apartment was unsettling, a faint whisper of chaos lingering in the air.

"Pepper, go back to your room. Stay inside!" Mia ordered urgently.

But the dog hesitated. Fear flickered in Pepper’s eyes, yet she obeyed, darting back toward the safety of the apartment.

Mia’s footsteps grew heavier as she cautiously entered, the air thick with a strange tension. The apartment seemed to be in disarray, things knocked over, a violent disturbance of some kind. And then, she saw him. Xian. He was slumped in a chair, bound by ropes, his face obscured by something—a cloth, a rag, she couldn’t tell at first.

"Xian!" Mia rushed to him, frantic, her hands trembling as she pulled the cloth away from his face. His eyes were wide, filled with panic, and he barely managed to whisper, "Go. It's not safe here."

Mia was confused, her heart racing as she searched his face for an explanation. "What happened? What’s going on?"

Xian’s voice cracked, strained with fear. "There’s a girl. She was wearing a red cape... and a red dress. She said she was supposed to take me—said I had to go with her. But when I refused, she… she tried to kill me. She… she hurt me." He winced, his body still in pain, but his eyes widened as he suddenly glanced toward the door, his expression terrified. "When I heard your footsteps, I thought she was gone, but... Mia, she’s still out there. She’s crazy. You need to run. Please. Go to the police. You can’t stay here."

Mia’s chest tightened. "But Xian—"

"You have to go!" Xian pleaded, his voice desperate. "If she comes back... you won’t be safe. I’ll be okay. Please, Mia, just go! Don’t let her find you!"

Mia hesitated, looking between him and the door. The fear in his eyes was enough to make her heart ache. She couldn’t leave him like this. But at the same time, the urgency in his voice sent chills down her spine. She didn’t have much time.

"Xian, I can't—"

"Please!" His voice broke. "She’ll come back. Run now!"

Mia, still frozen with indecision, heard the faintest sound—footsteps, distant but growing closer. Without another word, she bolted toward the door, every instinct screaming at her to get out.

But as she ran, a voice echoed in her mind: Who was the girl in the red dress? And why did Mia feel as though she was running toward something far more dangerous than she could ever imagine?

Mia’s heart pounded in her chest as she sprinted down the darkened hallway, her footsteps echoing against the cold floor. She didn’t dare look back. The air felt heavier with every step, as if the very space around her was pressing in. The only thing she had on her was the small bag slung over her shoulder. Inside, she felt the familiar weight of her father’s book, the one he had given her years ago. The one she never thought she’d need for anything other than reading.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she glanced down at the bag, fingers brushing against the worn edges of the book. But there was nothing else—no weapon, no knife, no phone. *Nothing.*

No knife to protect herself, no pepper spray, not even a flashlight. *What the hell am I going to do?* Her mind raced, but her body refused to slow, desperate to escape whatever nightmare was unfolding behind her.

Mia’s eyes darted to the sides, searching for any sign of help, but the streets were empty, the world around her drowned in an unnatural silence. The only sound was the rhythmic thumping of her boots against the pavement, the faint buzz of street lights flickering in the distance.

*I’m alone. Completely alone.*

The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine, but she pushed it aside. No time to panic now. She had to get somewhere safe, but the question was: *Where?* Her father’s book wasn’t going to protect her from whatever had terrified Xian. The chilling warning still echoed in her mind. *She’s crazy. You need to run. She’ll come back.*

Mia’s breath hitched as she turned a corner, her mind replaying Xian’s words. The girl in the red dress. She couldn’t get her out of her head, couldn’t shake the image of the girl’s cold, determined eyes. *What kind of person... What kind of monster wears a red cape and dress and does... that?*

Every corner felt like a trap. Every shadow seemed to twitch, and with every second that passed, Mia felt more exposed. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had no weapons, no defense, nothing but her wits and the heavy weight of her father’s book. She was out in the open, and the city felt like a vast, empty wilderness.

*Why didn’t I grab a weapon? Why didn’t I think this through?*

But there was no time for regret. She couldn’t afford to think about the things she should have done. She had to keep moving, had to *survive*.

The sound of her own feet pounding against the pavement was almost deafening in the silence, but just as her breath began to catch, she thought she heard something. A rustle. The lightest, faintest footstep behind her.

Mia’s pulse shot through her veins. She whipped her head around, but the streets were empty. No one was there. No one at all.

She forced herself to turn back, pushing her body faster, though it felt as though her legs were beginning to falter. The book in her bag was her only connection to the past, her only tether to any sense of safety, but it was powerless against what she was running from.

The girl in the red dress. Was she still following her?

Mia didn’t stop to look. She couldn’t. She had no time to wonder if the footsteps were real or just in her head. If that girl—*that thing*—was out there, Mia was no match for her.

She only had one chance. Keep running. Keep moving. And pray she wasn’t already too late.

Mia’s breath caught in her throat as the world seemed to freeze.

There, standing in front of her, was the girl in the red dress. She had appeared as though out of nowhere—standing perfectly still in the dim light, a haunting figure that sent chills down Mia’s spine. She wasn’t running, wasn’t chasing, just standing there, watching her. A small, almost too-perfect smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Mia froze. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She had expected something… something darker, something monstrous, but this was different. The girl before her was beautiful. Too beautiful. The kind of beauty that felt unnatural.

Her hair, a silky cascade of raven-black locks, framed her face perfectly. Her eyes—large, doe-like, and glistening—seemed far too innocent for the terror Mia had just escaped. But the strange, unsettling thing about her wasn't just her appearance—it was the way everything about her screamed wrong.

Her red dress, so vibrant and bold, swayed slightly as if caught in an invisible breeze. It was flawless, pristine, almost too perfect. Her porcelain skin gleamed under the streetlights, giving her an ethereal, otherworldly presence. Mia’s gaze flicked to her face, trying to make sense of it, when she noticed something strange—a small, delicate flower embroidered on her dress near her shoulder. It was a simple design, but the petals, the details—everything about it seemed like it had been painted on a card. A playing card.

Mia’s mind spun. What was going on? Was this some kind of twisted joke? A hallucination? She felt like she was trapped in a dream, but everything was so real. Too real.

The girl’s smile deepened, her voice sweet yet cold, like the tinkling of bells at the edge of a storm. “Give me that book, Mia,” she said, her tone almost polite, like a request—but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

Mia blinked in shock, not understanding, not believing. The girl wasn’t threatening her, not really—but there was something about the way she stood there, so composed and unnatural, that sent a spike of fear through her. She had no idea what was going on, but one thing was clear: the girl wanted the book.

Mia’s hand instinctively tightened around her bag, clutching it against her chest as if it could protect her from whatever this girl was. Why does she want the book? What does she even want with it?

The girl’s gaze didn’t waver, her dark eyes fixed on Mia with a knowing look, as though she could read her thoughts. There was something eerily familiar about her, but Mia couldn’t place it. The flowers on her dress, the card-like detail—it made her feel dizzy, as if the world was folding in on itself. What the hell are you?

Mia’s voice came out shaky, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking the one question that burned in her mind. "Who… Who are you?" Her voice cracked, and she stepped back, instinctively taking the bag with her father’s book further away.

The girl tilted her head, a small, almost sad smile crossing her face. "You don’t recognize me, do you?" she asked softly, but her words held an undercurrent of something dark.

Mia’s breath caught, and for a moment, she felt dizzy. Everything about this encounter was wrong. The girl’s appearance, her sweet voice—it was like a mask, a perfect façade hiding something much more dangerous beneath. But before Mia could gather her thoughts, the girl stepped forward, her movements so fluid and graceful that it felt like time had slowed.

"Give me the book, Mia." Her voice was no longer a request—it was a command. It was as if everything about her, her perfect, delicate demeanor, had suddenly sharpened into something cold, demanding. "It’s time. I need it."

Mia’s confusion deepened, her mind whirling with a thousand unanswered questions. Why the book? Why me?

She looked down at her bag, her fingers brushing over the smooth edges of the leather.