Claire didn’t sleep that night. She couldn’t. The feeling of the figure’s gaze never left her. No matter how hard she tried, she kept seeing that silhouette in her mind—standing, silent, waiting for something. Her wrist still burned where the mark had appeared. It felt almost... alive, pulsing with an eerie, rhythmic throb.
She sat up in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant hum of the city outside. The world was so normal, so calm, but she couldn’t shake the sensation that something was wrong. That she was being pulled into something much larger than she could understand.
David called her twice that night. Both times, she didn’t pick up. She wasn’t sure why—maybe she just didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe she was too scared to admit that she was thinking of the worst-case scenario.
At 4 AM, Claire finally got up, pacing around her small apartment, trying to drown out the rising panic. Her mind was racing in circles, but it always came back to one thing: The figure wasn’t just a person. It was something more. Something dangerous.
Her phone buzzed with a text.
David: “Meet me at the diner. It’s important.”
Claire hesitated. What if it was a trap? But she couldn’t just sit here and wait. She needed answers. Or at least, someone else who was as confused and scared as she was.
She grabbed her jacket and left, ignoring the strange feeling that crawled up her spine as she stepped outside.
The streets were empty, the streetlights casting long, jagged shadows on the pavement. It felt like the world was holding its breath. As she walked, she kept looking over her shoulder, half-expecting the figure to appear again.
The diner was just as she remembered. It wasn’t much—dim lights, a jukebox in the corner, a few tired regulars slumped over their coffee. David was sitting at their usual booth, waiting. His face was pale, like he hadn’t slept at all.
“You look like crap,” Claire said as she slid into the booth across from him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, rubbing his face. “You’re one to talk.”
The waitress, looking as uninterested as usual, came by to drop off a pot of coffee. David didn’t touch it. Neither did Claire.
Advertisement
undefined
$undefined“We need to figure this out,” David said, voice tight. “We’re running out of time.”
Claire stared at him, feeling that same sinking feeling in her gut. “What do you mean?”
David lowered his voice. “I... I think it’s not just following us. It’s moving. And it’s getting closer.”
The words hit her like a punch to the stomach. She’d been avoiding the truth, but David just said it out loud.
“What do you mean, moving?” she asked, trying to sound calm.
“I—” He hesitated, looking over his shoulder. “I went back to the alley, Claire. The one we ran from last night. The figure wasn’t there. But... it was—” His eyes darted to the door. “—at my place. When I got home, I swear to God, I saw it standing across the street. Just watching.”
Claire’s stomach churned. “So, it’s everywhere.”
David nodded grimly.
She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly, her mind racing. This was getting way out of hand.
“What if it’s marking us?” Claire asked, voice barely a whisper.
David looked at her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“The mark on my wrist,” she said. “It showed up right after we saw it. And you said it was watching you at your place. What if it’s, I don’t know, tracking us? Like it has some reason to keep following us, and it wants us to know it’s close?”
David’s eyes widened. “So, what do we do?”
Claire was silent for a moment, the weight of their situation sinking in. They couldn’t outrun this thing. And hiding was starting to feel like a game of cat and mouse. “I don’t know,” she whispered, staring at her wrist. “But I think we need to find out what it wants.”
David sighed heavily. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
Comments