I hear footsteps approaching, and I freeze. My heart stops, every muscle locking up. I can feel someone standing behind me—feel their presence, dark and consuming. I turn slowly, barely daring to breathe.
A man walks past, oblivious to my panic, talking loudly on his phone. I let out a shaky breath, wiping my face on my sleeve.
My phone buzzes. I look down.
You’re so pretty when you’re scared. Makes me want to wrap you up, keep you close. Maybe I will. Maybe tonight.
I shove the phone back into my pocket and stand, legs unsteady. I need to keep moving. Staying in one place is making me an easy target.
I cross the street, nearly getting clipped by a car. The driver honks, and I barely register it, just pushing forward until I reach a more crowded area.
I duck into a coffee shop, the smell of burnt beans and cinnamon assaulting my senses. I slump into a corner booth, pressing my back to the wall where I can see the door.
The barista eyes me with mild concern, but I avoid eye contact, digging through my bag for a few crumpled bills. I order a black coffee just to have something in my hands.
The phone vibrates again, and I force myself to check. Another voice message. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, but I can’t help it. I press play.
His voice, softer now, like a confession:
“I wonder how it feels to be so breakable. To know that any moment, I could reach out and shatter you. Would you fight me, Little Spider? Would you scream for me? Or would you finally understand that fighting just makes it worse?”
I swallow hard, trying to choke down the fear clawing up my throat. My hands are shaking so badly that I spill a little coffee onto the table.
I know I should go to the police, but the idea of explaining this makes my head spin. They’ll think I’m crazy. They’ll think I’m just some paranoid girl who can’t handle her own fears.
My phone vibrates one more time, and I finally break.
You can’t run from me. I’ll always find you. I’m already closer than you think. Maybe I’ll be the one to wake you up tomorrow. Would you like that, Little Spider?
I drop the phone onto the table, covering my face with my hands. My whole body feels stiff, like he’s wrapped around me, squeezing until I can’t breathe.
I don’t know how to escape him.
And deep down, I know that’s exactly how he wants it.
I don’t know how long I sit there, huddled in the coffee shop’s corner, the bitter taste of fear mixing with stale coffee on my tongue. People come and go, oblivious to the way I’m fallingapart, their laughter and casual chatter like static buzzing in my ears.
I can’t stop looking at the door, half-expecting him to walk in. I picture him—tall, dark, leather gloves stretching over his knuckles, eyes so cold they could slice through me without trying. The image makes me nauseous.
My phone sits face down on the table, but I can feel it pulsing like a heartbeat, waiting to taunt me again. I don’t want to look. I can’t handle another message. But the silence is almost worse—like he’s deliberately giving me space to fall apart.
My coffee’s gone cold, but I wrap my hands around the cup, hoping the lingering warmth will ground me. I glance at the window, searching in the reflection for anyone watching.
Nothing. Just strangers. Just life moving on without noticing me.
The phone buzzes again. I jerk so hard I almost knock the cup over. My hands are shaking as I pick it up, flipping it over.
Another message from him. My stomach drops.
Why are you hiding, Little Spider? Don’t you know I’ll always find you?
A noise lodges in my throat, halfway between a sob and a scream. I shove the phone back down, forcing my breathing to slow, forcing my thoughts to line up. He can’t be everywhere. He’s not a ghost. He’s just a man—dangerous, obsessed—but just a man.
I push the cup away and pull my knees up, curling into myself. My phone vibrates again, but I ignore it, pressing my forehead against my knees.
I think of Sam—how she would tell me to stand up, fight back. How she’d drag me to the police whether or not I wanted to go. I should call her. Tell her everything.
But what if he’s watching her too? What if I drag her into this nightmare just by reaching out?
