He watched me bleed

Someone knows my name

The city is loud at night, but my apartment never is.

At 2:17 a.m., the silence presses against my ribs until breathing feels like work. I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, laptop open but unread, light spilling onto the floor like a confession I didn't mean to make.

That's when my phone vibrates.

Once.

I frown, annoyed more than afraid, and reach for it.

Unknown Number
|You left your light on again.

My thumb freezes mid-air.

I stare at the message, waiting for the punchline. A prank. A wrong number. Anything that makes sense.

Nothing comes.

Slowly, I stand and walk toward the window. The street below is mostly empty, wet pavement reflecting neon signs and broken streetlights. Cars pass occasionally, tires hissing against asphalt.

Then I see him.

Across the street, beneath the flickering lamp that's been broken for months, a man leans against the pole like he belongs there. Dark coat. Hands in pockets. Face swallowed by shadow.

My stomach tightens.

My phone buzzes again.

Don't be scared. I've been here before.

My heart slams so hard it hurts.

I type back.

|Who are you?

Three dots appear.
Disappear.

The man lifts his head.
Even from this distance, I know he's looking straight at me.
I step back from the window, pulse roaring in my ears.

I don't sleep that night.