I'll take everything from you

chapter 2 :the first disapperence

The morning air was crisp and damp, carrying the earthy scent of dew-soaked leaves. Claire stood on the porch of her modest rental, sipping a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. The note she’d found the previous night lay on the small table beside her, its ominous message still echoing in her mind.

“I’ll take everything from you.”

She hadn’t slept. Her thoughts spiraled between paranoia and reason, each possibility darker than the last. The letter could be a prank, she told herself. Or maybe an unfortunate coincidence. But deep down, she felt the weight of something more sinister.

Her contemplation was interrupted by the sound of barking. Across the street, Mrs. Redfield’s aging terrier, Benny, yipped frantically, tugging against his leash. The widow’s house looked the same as always: white shutters, neatly trimmed hedges, and a welcome mat that hadn’t been touched since her late husband passed years ago.

But something felt… wrong.

Claire squinted, her stomach twisting. Mrs. Redfield was always out by now, watering her flowers or sweeping her driveway. The absence of her cheerful humming was unsettling. Claire set her mug down and crossed the street.

“Benny? What’s all the fuss about, boy?” she asked softly, though her unease deepened as she approached. The dog’s barking grew more frantic, his eyes darting to the front door.

Claire hesitated. She knocked once, twice. No answer.

“Mrs. Redfield?” she called, her voice shaking.

The house stood silent, the air around it still as if the world itself were holding its breath. Claire pushed the door open—it wasn’t locked, a fact that only heightened her anxiety.

Inside, the house was eerily pristine. A cup of tea sat on the coffee table, its contents untouched but cold. A knitting project was abandoned on the armchair, the needles still dangling from half-finished stitches.

“Mrs. Redfield?” Claire called again, louder this time.

No response.

She moved through the house cautiously, every creak of the floorboards amplifying her heartbeat. The kitchen was empty, the bedroom undisturbed. It was as if Mrs. Redfield had simply evaporated, leaving behind no sign of struggle, no indication of where she might have gone.

Claire’s gaze fell on the dining table, where a folded piece of paper sat neatly beside a framed photo of Mrs. Redfield and her late husband. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.

The note read: “I’ll take everything from you.”

Claire’s breath caught in her throat. The handwriting was identical to the note she’d received the night before. Her hands clenched the paper as dread coiled in her chest.

By the time the police arrived, a small crowd had gathered outside. Neighbors whispered among themselves, exchanging theories and fueling the growing unease.

Detective Lucas Grayson, a seasoned officer with sharp eyes and a weathered demeanor, stepped onto the porch. He’d lived in Briarwood long enough to know when something was out of the ordinary, and this disappearance reeked of it.

Claire recounted what she knew—the barking dog, the unlocked door, the eerie stillness of the house. She hesitated when it came to the note, unsure if sharing it would draw unwanted attention to herself. Finally, she handed it over, watching as Grayson’s expression darkened.

“This is... concerning,” he said, folding the paper carefully. “Did Mrs. Redfield mention receiving any threats? Any trouble with anyone in town?”

Claire shook her head. “Not that I know of. She was kind to everyone. This doesn’t make any sense.”

Grayson nodded, though his brow remained furrowed. “We’ll investigate. In the meantime, if you notice anything unusual, anything at all, you let us know immediately.”

As the day dragged on, Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching her. Every shadow seemed to stretch unnaturally long, every creak of her old house setting her nerves on edge. She spent hours researching disappearances in Briarwood, but there was nothing remarkable. The town had always been peaceful, a place people came to escape, not vanish.

Her search led her down a rabbit hole of local legends and ghost stories, none of which seemed credible—until she stumbled upon the tale of the Collector.