Morning came slow, sunlight spilling lazily through the blinds in thin, golden lines that painted the walls. My body felt heavy, as though I’d wrestled the night itself and lost. The remnants of the nightmare clung to me like a second skin. I couldn’t shake off ghost like hands around my throat, that whisper echoing in the back of my mind.
I knew it had just been a dream. But still, it felt disturbingly real. Especially because, deep down, I couldn’t ignore that gnawing feelingthat someone was watching me. Always. Somewhere between the shadows and silence.
It had been weeks since the last text. Weeks since the unknown number had gone silent. And yet, the quiet was worse than the threat itself. Whoever it was—whatever they wanted—their silence felt like the calm before a storm.
What were
