I ran to the door.
By the time I got outside, he was gone.
The alley was empty. The street was empty. The only thing left was a cigarette butt, still smoldering, lying on the ground where he'd been standing.
I picked it up.
A brand I didn't recognize.
Imported, maybe.
I held it to my nose and breathed in.
Tobacco.
Something else.
Something familiar.
"Daddy?"
No answer.
There was never an answer.
But I knew.
Someone was watching.
Someone was following.
Someone wanted me to know.
I crushed the cigarette beneath my heel and walked back inside.
The basement was waiting.
The tunnels were waiting.
The hunt was waiting.
And I was ready.
"Daddy."
The whisper was soft.
"Daddy, I'm coming."
"I don't know who's watching me."
"I don't know who's following me."
"But I'm not afraid."
"You taught me not to be afraid."
"You taught me to hunt."
