(Elle’s POV)
The notes kept coming.
Folded paper tucked into my locker, slipped under my books, pinned beneath the wiper of my bike.
At first, I tried to laugh it off.
Everyone said I had admirers—I told myself it was harmless.
But this wasn’t flattery.
This was someone peeling back layers of me I hadn’t shown to anyone.
“You like to hum when you’re nervous. It’s cute.”
“Stop biting your nails. I’ll hold your hands instead.”
“Red suits you. Wear it again.”
The last one made me throw the note into the trash so fast my fingers burned.
Because that morning, I had been wearing my red scarf.
And only someone watching closely—too closely—would know that.
At night, the house no longer felt like home.
The windows rattled louder, the shadows stretched longer.
Every creak sounded like
