The Footage They Never Meant Me to See
POV: Calla Monroe
The knock still echoed in my head, long after silence reclaimed the apartment. I stood there, staring at the door like it might knock again. My fingers hovered over the deadbolt. I didn’t open it right away. I listened first.
No footsteps. No voices. No retreating elevator chime. Just the dull hum of the fridge and the hollow silence of a life shrinking into fear.
When I finally opened the door, a strip of pale hallway light spilled across my bare feet. Empty. No one in sight. But at my doorstep—placed neatly like a threat someone wanted me to notice—was a small black envelope.
No name. No markings. Just… deliberate.
I picked it up like it might burn me. The paper was cold, heavier than it should’ve been. Inside: a flash drive.
