The bus ride home was a blur. Every time Claire closed her eyes, she saw that figure. Standing. Waiting. Watching.
The mark on her wrist hadn’t faded. If anything, it seemed darker now, like ink seeping under her skin.
David insisted on walking her to her apartment. Neither of them wanted to be alone.
The streets were quieter now, the city winding down. Their footsteps felt too loud. The air too still.
“You’re staying at my place tonight,” David said firmly. “I don’t care what you say.”
Claire was too exhausted to argue.
They reached her apartment building. The lights in the lobby flickered as she fumbled with her keys.
And then—
A shadow moved.
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$undefinedClaire’s breath hitched.
Across the street, beneath the glow of a flickering streetlight, stood the figure.
It hadn’t followed them. It had been here first.
Waiting.
It stood as still as before, hat dipped forward, face obscured.
“Claire—” David’s voice was tight with fear.
Then the streetlight above the figure went out.
When it flickered back on—
It was closer.
Not moving. Not running. But closer.
David grabbed Claire’s hand. “Inside. Now.”
They stumbled through the doorway, slamming it shut behind them.
Claire’s heart pounded in her ears.
Through the glass doors, she saw the streetlight flicker again.
The figure didn’t leave.
It was waiting.
And somehow, she knew—
It wasn’t going to stop.
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