My pulse hammers, and I step back into the flat, slamming the door shut, locking it tight. I clutch the phone in my hand, my mind spinning with questions I can’t answer.
How did he get so close without me hearing? How long was he out there?
I can still feel his presence, like he’s pressed against the other side of the door, whispering my name.
My phone vibrates. I know before I look what it’ll say.
Sleep well, Little Spider?
I can’t breathe.
The glove sits there, black and sleek against the dusty floorboards, like a venomous spider itself. My throat tightens, and I can’t move, can’t think. My brain scrambles for logic, for an explanation that makes sense.
But there’s only one truth. He was here.
My hands tremble as I reach for the glove, fingertips grazing the leather. It’s cold, almost damp, like it’s been outside all night. I yank my hand back, pressing it against my chest to still the frantic pounding of my heart.
My phone buzzes again. I flinch, staring down at the screen.
Did you like my gift?
A soft, choked sound escapes me, and I force myself to reply, fingers clumsy on the keys.
What do you want from me?
The reply comes almost instantly.
To teach you how to play.
My skin prickles, and I inch away from the door, pressing my back against the wall. I can’t help but glance at the window, half-expecting to see him staring through the glass, those grey eyes drinking me in.
A new message pops up, and I bite down hard on my lip.
You keep running, Little Spider. But I’m patient. I’ll wait until you’re tangled up, with no way out. Until you call for me. Beg for me.
I’m suffocating. The air feels too thick, pressing in on all sides. I press my fists to my temples, trying to force the words out of my head.
Then another text.
You always look so lonely. Want me to come in and keep you company?
I want to scream. I want to throw the phone out the window and burn my flat to the ground. I type back before I can stop myself.
Leave me alone, or I’ll call the cops.
His reply sends ice through my veins.
And tell them what? That you’re being haunted by shadows? That you feel me even when I’m not there? They’ll think you’re crazy, Little Spider.
I let out a shaky breath, wiping sweat from my forehead. I have to get out of here. I grab my jacket from the back of the chair, shoving my arms through the sleeves. My phone vibrates again, and I almost don’t look. Almost.
Where are you going? You should stay. I like it better when you’re here. Safe. Wrapped up in your little web.
I swallow the rising panic and yank the door open, practically running down the stairs and out onto the street. The air is sharp and cold, stabbing at my lungs as I gulp it down. I don’t stop until I’m halfway down the block, surrounded by people milling about, going about their lives.
Safety in numbers. I keep telling myself that.
I turn the corner, pushing through the crowd until I reach the small park at the end of the street. I sit on a bench, pressing my fists to my mouth to muffle the sobs.
