The Quite Ridge

Chapter 7- Sadie

The drive back felt longer than it should have. It was the same road, same turns, same trees closing in on both sides like they had that morning, but everything looked different now, darker, the light gone, shadows stretching across the pavement in a way that made it harder to see what was there and what wasn’t. I checked the mirror more than once. Nothing. Still, the feeling didn’t leave.

The cabin came into view too suddenly, like it had been waiting for me instead of the other way around. I pulled in, gravel crunching under my tires, the sound louder than it should have been in the quiet. No lights on. No movement. Just still.

I sat in the car for a second after I turned the engine off, my hands still on the wheel, my eyes moving out across the trees. Nothing. No cars. No headlights. No one. That didn’t mean anything.

I grabbed my bag and got out, locking the door behind me before I even reached the porch. The air felt cooler now, heavier, like the night carried more sound even when everything was quiet. The door unlocked with a soft click, and I stepped inside quickly, shutting it behind me harder than I meant to.

The silence hit me immediately. It felt different here, not like the office, not like the yard. Too quiet.

I set my bag down on the small table near the door, moving through the space without turning on more lights than I needed. One lamp. That was enough. I didn’t want the whole place lit up. Didn’t want it to feel open.

My phone buzzed.

I froze.

It was the same sound, the same vibration, the same feeling that hit before I even looked at it.

Slowly, I reached for it.

Unknown number.

My stomach dropped.

I stared at the screen for a second too long, like if I didn’t touch it, it wouldn’t be real.

It buzzed again.

A message.

My thumb hovered over it, my pulse already picking up before I even opened it.

I shouldn’t.

I did anyway.

Miss me yet?

My breath caught, sharp enough to hurt. No. No, no—

Another message came through before I could even think.

You always did hate being alone.

Everything in me went cold.

I turned toward the door without thinking, my eyes locking on it like I expected it to move, like I expected someone to be standing on the other side. Nothing. Just the same silence. But it didn’t feel empty anymore.

My grip tightened around the phone, my breathing too fast now, too shallow. “He doesn’t know where you are,” I said out loud, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. It sounded wrong in the empty space.

I forced myself to move, checking the windows one after another, pulling the curtains tighter than they needed to be, making sure every lock was in place even though I had already checked them when I got here. Still, I checked again.

The phone buzzed.

I flinched.

Another message.

You really think a new place changes anything?

My chest tightened, my hand shaking just slightly as I stared at the words. He didn’t know where I was. He couldn’t. But this felt too close, too familiar.

I backed up slightly, my eyes moving toward the door again, then to the windows, then back to the phone in my hand like it might explain something if I looked at it long enough. It didn’t.

The cabin felt smaller now, closer, like the walls had shifted in without me noticing.

And for the first time since I got here, I didn’t feel hidden anymore.