Chapter 2: The Message That Shouldn't Exist
1181 Words
Lily didn't sleep that night.
She lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the city outside—cars passing, distant voices, a train rumbling somewhere in the valley. Life continued as if nothing had happened.
At 3:17 a.m., she sat up. Her phone was still in her hand. The screen was dark, but she kept checking it anyway. She told herself it was probably a prank. Someone guessing names.
She placed the phone face-down on the bed and forced herself to lie back.
"Enough."
But her chest stayed tight. Her fingers kept twitching toward the phone.
When morning came, her alarm rang at 7:00. She turned it off and stared at the ceiling. For a moment, she considered skipping work. Then she got up, washed her face, and left.
The air was warm, slightly humid. Vendors set up roadside stalls. Cars honked. A woman yelled at someone who cut her off. Normal.
Lily walked toward the bus stop and checked her phone. No new messages. She exhaled and slipped it into her pocket.
Three steps later, it vibrated.
Unknown number.
One line: "Did you sleep well, Lily?"
She stopped walking. People moved around her. A cyclist nearly hit her and swore. Her fingers tightened around the phone until her knuckles went pale.
"Who are you?"
The reply came instantly. "Someone who didn't mean to disturb you."
"You know my name. How?"
A pause. Then: "Names are easy to find when you know where to look."
Lily looked around the street. A man stood too long at a newspaper stand. A woman with a stroller seemed to be waiting for nothing. A black car across the street had its engine running, windows tinted too dark for her to see inside.
She forced herself to move again.
The bus arrived. She boarded quickly, took a window seat, and kept her phone in her hand the whole ride. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
"Stop texting me."
A longer delay this time. The typing indicator appeared… disappeared… appeared again.
"I can't."
She looked out the window instead of replying. Buildings passed. Streets are blurred.
The boutique was small but busy. Customers asked questions nonstop—Do you have this in a medium? Is there a discount? Can you hold this for me? Lily worked automatically. She smiled. She folded clothes. She answered politely. But every time her phone vibrated in her pocket, her hands paused mid-fold. Her eyes darted to the counter where she'd left the device.
During a quiet moment, her coworker Mia noticed.
"You're distracted today."
Lily smiled. "Just tired."
Mia leaned closer, eyes sharp. "Did something happen?"
Lily hesitated. Then whispered, "Have you ever gotten messages from someone you don't know?"
"Like spam?"
"No. Like… someone who knows you, but you don't know them."
Mia frowned. "That's creepy. Block them."
Lily nodded slowly. "I can't."
"Why not?"
Lily didn't answer. She turned back to a rack of blouses and started refolding one that was already perfectly folded.
---
At exactly 12:41 p.m., her phone vibrated again.
"You look nervous today."
Lily looked up immediately. Across the boutique. Through the glass window. A man stood near the entrance. He wasn't looking at clothes. He was looking at her. Watching.
She stepped back. Her shoulder blades pressed against a rack of dresses. The hangers clinked softly.
"Mia," she said, her voice lower than usual, "I need to check something outside."
Before Mia could respond, Lily walked out. The door chimed behind her.
The man was gone. Only passing pedestrians. A couple arguing over parking. A delivery driver checking his phone. The sidewalk was ordinary. Forgettable.
She turned her head left, then right. Nothing.
Her phone buzzed again. "I didn't mean to scare you."
She typed with trembling thumbs: "Where are you?"
"Not close enough to matter."
She turned in a full circle. The black car from earlier was still across the street. The engine was still running.
She stared at it for five seconds. Ten. The windows stayed dark.
Then her phone buzzed again. "You're looking at the wrong thing."
Lily's stomach dropped. She spun around. A man was walking away from the boutique entrance, heading down the sidewalk at a normal pace. Dark jacket. Hands in pockets. He didn't look back.
She watched him until he disappeared around a corner.
Then she went back inside. Mia raised her eyebrows. Lily said nothing. She put her phone in her pocket and didn't take it out again for the rest of her shift. But her eyes kept drifting to the window.
That evening, as she left work, her phone rang.
Unknown caller.
She hesitated. Then pressed accept.
"…Hello?"
Silence. Breathing. Slow. Controlled. Then a voice—low, careful, different from the messages.
"You shouldn't be replying to messages like that."
Lily stopped walking. Her grip tightened on the phone. "Who is this?"
A pause. "Someone trying to keep you safe."
"Safe from what?"
The voice didn't answer immediately. Then: "From him."
Click. The line ended.
Lily stood still on the sidewalk. Evening light faded, casting long shadows across the pavement. A teenager on a skateboard swerved to avoid her. She didn't move.
She looked at her phone screen. The call was gone. No number saved. No callback option.
She started walking home. Faster than usual. Every few steps, she glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. No one. Just ordinary people going about ordinary evenings.
But she couldn't shake the two voices in her head.
One said don't trust him — but there was no him yet. The other said I didn't mean to scare you — but everything about this was terrifying.
She reached her apartment building and climbed the stairs. Her footsteps echoed in the stairwell. She stopped on the third-floor landing and listened. Nothing. Just the hum of the building's old water heater.
She unlocked her door, stepped inside, and locked it again.
That night, back in her apartment, Lily locked her door twice. Then checked it again. Then checked the windows. She sat on her bed, staring at her phone. No messages. No calls.
She set the phone on her nightstand. Lay down. Stared at the ceiling.
Buzz.
She flinched so hard she nearly fell off the bed.
Unknown number. One line:
"You finally noticed me today."
Her breath stopped. Then another message appeared immediately after.
"Good. That means it's working."
She whispered into the empty room: "What is working…?"
No reply. Only silence. The silence pressed against her ears—every creak in the floorboards, every whisper of wind through the window frame. Somewhere, someone was watching.
She picked up her phone again. Her thumb hovered over the block button.
She didn't press it.
Instead, she placed the phone face-up on the bed, as if watching her back would somehow matter.
Lily pulled her knees to her chest and stared at the wall. She did not turn off the light. She did not close her eyes. She sat there until the sky outside turned from black to gray.
Her phone did not buzz again that night.
But she didn't sleep either.
- Writer
