Episode Four: The Stranger in the Glass
746 Words
Sleep never came.
Not because I didn't try---God knows I did--but because every time I closed my eyes, I
could feel him. Somewhere in the dark, just beyond what I could see, waiting. Watching.
When morning finally broke, it didn't feel like morning at all. The sun didn't look warm.
The world didn't look real. I stood at my window, coffee in hand, staring at the empty
street below.
Except it wasn't empty.
A black car was parked across the road. it hadn't been there last night.
Tinted windows. Engine off.
Still. Silent.
I told myself it was nothing---just a neighbor, a visitor, someone's delivery. But even as I
tried to move away, my reflection in the glass caught something I shouldn't have seen.
Movement.
Inside the car.
A silhouette turning its head... toward me.
My breath hitched.
I steped back, heart pounding. For a long moment, I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Then,
just as slowly as it appeared, the car's engine started. The tires rolled forward. And it was
gone.
But I knew.
That wasn't a coincidence.
At class, I could barely focus. I stared at the professor's mouth as he spoke, but none of
the words landed. My pen trembled between my fingers.
Every sound made me flinch--the squeak of shoes on the floor, the slam of a locker door,
the faint buzz of someone's phone.
I wasn't just paranoid anymore. I was certain.
Someone was following me.
And the worst part?
Part of me didn't want them to stop.
By the afternoon, I couldn't take it. I needed answers.
I went to the security desk on campus and asked if they could check footaage near the bus
stop---"I think someone left something near my dorm," I lied, pretending to laugh it off.
The guard sighed and asked what time. I gave him the night before. He scrolled through
the footage, the grainy camera flickering as he skipped minute by minute.
Nothing.
No one.
But then, at the edge of the scree, barely visible---movement. A tall figure in a dark coat,
stepping out of the shadows. His head turned toward the dorm. Then the feed glitched.
When it came back, he was gone.
The guard frowned. "Probably just a glitch. Happens all the time."
But I knew it wasn't a glitch.
He was real.
That night, I found another envelope.
Not on the doorstep this time. Inside my apartment.
My blood ran cold. The front door was still locked. The windows were sealed. But the
envelope sat neatly on my kitchen counter, like it had been waiting for me.
My name.
Written in that same beautiful, careful handwriting.
I opened it with shaking hands. Inside was a single note.
You saw me today.
No signature. No address.
Just that.
I wanted to scream. Or run. Or both. But my legs wouldn't move. Instead, I just stood
there, reading those four words again and again until the ink blurred through my tears.
You saw me today.
He knew.
He wanted me to know.
Later that night, I called my roommate--told her I missed her, begged her to come home
early. She laughed it off. Said I was being dramatic. "Just watch a movie, you'll be fine."
I hung up and stared at my reflection in the dark window. The street outside was empty.
But in the glass, behind me---something moved.
I spun around. Nothing.
Only my quiet apartment, lit by the faint glow out of my phone.
Then it buzzed.
Unknown: You shouldn't be afraid of me, angel.
Angel.
He called me angel.
The word settled in my chest like fire and ice.
He'd given me a name, one only he would use. A name that didn't belong to anyone else.
And I hated that a part of me---
A dark, secret part---
Didn't hate it.
I didn't reply. Not that night. Not even as I sat in bed, every sound amplified, every shadow
alive. I just stared at hte message until my vision blurred.
Who was he?
How long had he been watching?
And why did it feel like he already knew me---like he'd been waiting for me all along?
When I finally drifted into a half-sleep, I dreamed of a man standing at the edge of my
bed. His hand hovered above my face, as though tracing invisible lines across my skin. His
voice was deep, distant, like static through a radio.
You don't see yet, do you? he whispered.
But you will.
- Writer
