That's him.....
561 Words
Aily’s blood ran cold. That voice—low, smooth, teasing—
She knew it.
Every muscle in her body went rigid as her mind whispered the truth she didn’t want to hear.
Not again. Not anymore. Please, not him.
Her lips trembled. The words escaped like a prayer meant only for herself.
Each time she heard that voice, it felt like ice sliding down her spine, paralyzing her heartbeat.
It wasn’t just fear—it was recognition. A sound she had buried deep, under years of trying to forget.
“Missed me?”
The words replayed in her head like a cruel echo.
Her chest tightened, breath shallow.
She stepped back, but the air itself felt solid, trapping her.
The vanilla scent thickened until it became unbearable, wrapping her throat, her mind, her memories.
The hallway seemed to tilt, the walls closing in, shadows trembling like they were alive.
Her pulse pounded so loud she could barely hear her thoughts.
“Stop,” she whispered again, voice cracking. “You’re gone. You’re not real.”
But she knew the lie even as she said it.
Because she could feel him.
The same cold presence, the same mocking silence between each whisper.
The flickering tubelight blinked once more—and in that brief flash, she saw it.
A shadow, standing at the end of the hallway. Still. Waiting.
Her breath caught. The shape was tall, familiar. The way it tilted its head—it was him.
“No…” she gasped, stumbling back until her shoulders hit the wall. “You can’t be here. You’re dead.”
A laugh, low and quiet, slipped through the dark.
The sound slithered down the hallway and into her ears, the same way it used to—gentle, then cruel.
The lights flickered violently, the sound of the whistle returning, slow and patient.
Tap. Whistle. Tap. Whistle.
The rhythm that once haunted her dreams now filled the air again, closer than ever.
Her heart hammered as she pressed herself against the wall, whispering,
“Not again… please…”
The light blinked out completely.
And then, from the dark, the voice came one last time—closer than a whisper, right beside her e
“You thought I’d leave you huh?"
Hearing this, her blood ran cold. Every drop inside her seemed to freeze, her veins tightening as if ice had replaced her pulse. The voice lingered—soft, poisonous—close enough that she could feel the warmth of breath brushing her ear.
Her body refused to move. The air around her thickened, pulsing with the same rhythm as her heart. The scent of vanilla grew sharper, heavier, as if the room itself remembered his touch.
Her mind screamed to run, but her limbs stayed locked, trapped between the echo of his words and the silence that followed.
Somewhere in the dark, something shifted. A faint scrape against the wall. A whisper of movement.
And just before the light flickered again, she heard him—closer this time, almost inside her head—
“You can’t run from what’s already inside you.”
The light blinked out.
She closed her eyes in fear knowing "he" is coming for "her"
Knowing
She can't do anything now
She can't escape him now
He is here
He is here for her again
&
THIS TIME HE WILL HAVE HER
- Writer
