Chapter3
2093 Words
~ LILY ~
“Lily… don’t look!”
I screamed, my voice echoing down a dark corridor that stretched on forever. Shadows twisted around me, whispering my name, mocking me.
“You think you can hide… you think he’ll believe you?” a voice hissed, sharp and cruel, but I couldn’t see who it belonged to.
I stumbled backward, heart hammering, and a pair of hands—cold, heavy—grabbed my shoulders. “No! Let me go!” I screamed, thrashing, but the hands tightened.
“You’re nothing without him,” the voice spat. “You can’t escape. He saw everything.”
Adrian’s face appeared in the darkness, calm and cold, eyes empty. “I believe what I saw,” he said softly, and the words cut me deeper than any knife could.
I shook my head, trying to run, but the floor beneath me twisted into jagged glass. “No! This isn’t real! I didn’t—” My voice broke into a sob.
“Lily! Lily, wake up! Wake up!”
Grace’s voice cut through the nightmare like a lifeline. My eyes shot open, my body trembling uncontrollably. “I… I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!” I gasped, clutching at the sheets, heart pounding as though it might leap out of my chest.
“Shhh… it’s okay, breathe,” Grace said softly, pressing a hand to my back and rocking me gently. “You’re safe. You’re here. It’s just a dream.”
I shook my head, trying to force the images from my mind. “He… he said he believes what he saw! I… I didn’t!” My voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a rush of panic.
Grace guided me upright, holding me steady. “I know, Lily. I know. Look at me. You’re okay. You’re here, with me. That’s what matters.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to anchor myself in reality. “I… it felt so real… every word, every look…”
“I know,” Grace said, brushing damp strands of hair from my face. “Bad dream. That’s all.”
I let out a shaky breath, trying to stop my hands from trembling. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”
Grace’s eyes softened, studying me for a moment before flicking to my phone, still vibrating insistently on the nightstand. “Your phone’s been ringing… for a while now,” she said. “You better check who it is.”
I hesitated, dread coiling in my stomach. “I… okay.” My fingers shook as I picked it up. The screen lit up with a number I didn’t recognize, the vibration pounding in my ears.
I swallowed hard and answered.
“Hello?”
“Lily?” The voice was male, breathless, urgent, not familiar. “You need to come to your studio. Now.”
My stomach dropped. “My studio? Why? What happened?”
There was a brief crackle on the line, voices shouting in the background, something that sounded like a siren.
“Just come,” he snapped, voice tight with panic. “Right now.”
The call cut before I could say another word.
I stared at the screen, my heart thudding so hard it hurt. “Grace… he just said I need to come to my studio. Right now. And then he hung up.”
Grace frowned. “Did he say who he was?”
“No.” My voice trembled. “But… I heard shouting. Sirens maybe. I don’t know.”
“Well then we’re not wasting time.” Grace stood immediately, already grabbing her jacket. “Come on. We’re going together.”
I hesitated for only a second before nodding, pushing myself up even though my legs felt unsteady.
“Grace… what if something’s wrong?” I whispered.
She grabbed my hand, squeezing. “Then we deal with it. But you’re not going alone. Let’s go.”
The cold air outside hit me like a slap, waking me up more than anything else. We got into my car, and I forced my hands to stop shaking long enough to fit the key into the ignition.
Grace glanced at me. “You good to drive?”
“I’m fine. I have to be.”
But my voice didn’t sound convincing, not even to myself.
I pulled out of the parking lot, and Grace kept checking the GPS after I typed in the studio address. The streets were quiet for the most part, but the closer we got to downtown, the more noise I heard, faint sirens in the distance growing louder.
Grace leaned forward. “Lily, do you hear that?”
I nodded, gripping the wheel harder. “Yeah.”
Another minute. Another turn.
Then I saw it—orange light reflecting against the buildings ahead.
My chest tightened. “No. No, no, no”
“Lily…” Grace said softly, but she didn’t finish.
We turned the last corner, and there it was:
My studio building.
Smoke pouring from the top floor.
Fire trucks lined across the street.
Flashing lights.
People standing behind yellow tape.
And fire—bright, violent, consuming the windows where I’d spent years building everything I had.
My breath caught. I slammed the car into park.
“Lily, wait!” Grace called out, but I was already opening the door, stumbling out onto the sidewalk.
“No” My voice broke. “My studio…”
I pushed forward, but Grace grabbed my arm before I could cross the tape.
“Lily, stop! You can’t run in there!”
I shook my head, tears burning my eyes. “Grace, that’s everything. All my equipment, my files, my work, everything’s in there.”
“I know.” Grace held on tight. “But you can’t go past that line. You’ll get arrested. Or worse.”
My knees felt weak. I couldn’t look away from the flames.
A firefighter turned toward us, shouting, “Ma’am! Stay back!”
Grace kept an arm around me, grounding me as I watched everything I’d built collapse in front of me.
A man pushed through the crowd, calling out, “Lily? Lily Parker?”
Grace jerked her head toward him. “Who are you?”
He stopped in front of us, breathing hard. He looked like he had run the whole way.
“I’m James. I work in the building across from yours,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I saw the fire start. I called the fire department, then I saw your name on the tenant list inside the lobby. I figured someone needed to tell you.”
My voice was barely a whisper. “And you were the one who called me?”
“Yes.” His expression softened, almost apologetic. “It spread fast. Too fast, I didn’t think leaving a voicemail or waiting for someone else to contact you made sense. I needed you here.”
I stared at him, numb. “Is anyone inside?”
“No. They cleared the building. No one will be working by this time.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “But the fire started near your section of the floor.”
I blinked. “My section?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Look, I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
My chest tightened painfully.
Grace rubbed my back. “Lily, breathe. You’re shaking.”
I was. My whole body trembled.
Because as I stared at the flames, one thought pushed through the shock:
This wasn’t an accident.
My studio was the only thing I had left.
And now it was burning.
Grace watched my face shift and whispered, “Lily… whatever you’re thinking, you say it.”
I swallowed hard. “Someone did this.”
Grace didn’t argue, she didn’t call me paranoid, she just tightened her grip on my hand.
And for the first time since the fire came into view, I felt my fear turn into something sharper, a cold, rising certainty that someone wanted me gone.
- Writer
