Your foot tapped nervously on the blue carpet floor as you sat in the waiting room. For the first time in several months, you found yourself actually wanting to talk to your therapist. Your sessions were usually full of you dodging questions and her trying to get you to open up. Today you found yourself needing to talk to her. You needed to get all of these thoughts out of your head, even if you weren't convinced Alicia could help with easing them.
The break you'd taken from work a couple of days ago hadn't helped for more than a few hours. While the caffeine had heightened your focus it had also made you antsy. You did your best to do all of your tasks well and quickly, but you kept on thinking about everything. By the time your shift was over you were exhausted trying to balance controlling your daydreaming as well as getting everything done well enough to keep Ms. Marley's concern at bay.
As much as you wished you could, you couldn't shut your thoughts off, and the next day you were back to zoning out.
The door to Alicia's office creaked open, snapping you out of your head. "Good to see you, Y/N. Come on in." With a nod you stood and followed her into the office, sitting on a stiff wooden chair. Her office was very academic looking with bookcases on the back wall that contrasted with old patterned wallpaper. From the corner wafted a woody vanilla scent that stemmed from a small lit candle.
Alicia sat across from you and brushed a strand of black hair behind her ear before offering a smile. "So how have you been the past week?"
You released a shaky breath. "Not great I guess. A uh... old friend, Carson, messaged me and I don't know, I just feel really anxious." Anxious may have been an understatement. Lately you'd felt like you were being watched. If you stood by a window for too long you'd have the urge to turn and look behind you. If you were ordering food it always felt like someone somewhere was staring at you. You were paranoid, and you knew it was because of what Carson had told you.
"What did he message you about?" Alicia asked, tilting her head.
"He um... He told me some of the other cult survivors were killed. Three." You gulped and stared down at the floor. "He thinks it was Jack."
Alicia was silent for a moment and you could hear her writing something on her clipboard. "That's... terrifying. Do you also think it was Jack?"
"No." You replied immediately. "He's dead, I don't see any way he could have survived." You glanced up at Alicia enough to see her nod.
"So you think it's someone else? Are the police aware?" She questioned.
You shrugged. "I don't know. I mean I'm sure the cops know they're dead, but I don't think they've connected anything."
"Do you think it'd be a good idea to put in a tip?"
"...Maybe. Everyone's spread out though so it'd be between a bunch of different stations." You didn't know how well several different departments would work together, or if they'd even take you seriously.
Alicia sighed, a worried frown on her lips. "That's a tricky situation... Can't say I know what to do either." She paused. "Do you think they're coming after all of you?"
"Sounds like it." Your foot started to bounce faster.
"Do you have anyone you could stay with for a while? You might not want to be living alone right now." Alicia had picked up on your not-so-subtle body language.
"No, I don't." The only people you ever talked to around here were Ms. Marley and Aiden. They were both nice, but you weren't anywhere near close enough to ask to crash on their couch.
You finally let yourself look her in the eye again. Her look was of pity. You hated that expression.
"In that case, I think you need to at least try the police. You don't even have to give your name, just do your best to explain what's been going on and hopefully they'll start looking for whoever's doing this."
Every time you talked to the police they sounded accusatory. Even after the incident when you were balling your eyes out they still looked down on you. You really didn't want to have to rely on them, but who else did you have? You never made more friends after dropping out of college and family wasn't an option. The closest people to you were Alicia and Carson, neither of which had the power to save you from any of this. You knew Alicia was right.
"Okay, yeah. I'll call when I get home."
Alicia smiled softly. "Good. Stay safe, Y/N."
"I'll try."
✦★✦
The drive home from your appointment left you with a lot to think about. First of all, Carson hadn't even told you who had died, so you'd have to ask him for their names, states, and whatever else would be necessary to make a report. Fuck, you really didn't want to talk to him right now. You had a hunch that if you even brought up the cops he'd tell you it was useless because Jack was a demon.
You felt angry at everything, and you were taking it out on the steering wheel you'd had a death grip on for the past five minutes. You didn't want to talk to the cops, you didn't want to talk to Carson, you didn't want to talk to anyone. You just wanted to be left alone, but at the same time you didn't want to get gutted in your sleep.
The scenery was passing by in a blur. You'd been so caught up panicking about a serial killer that you hadn't even got a chance to bring up your worsening attention span to Alicia. Zoning out wasn't uncommon for you at all, but it'd never been this bad. You really needed to get your shit together, you just had no idea where to start.
When your turn came up you hardly even noticed it. You slammed on the breaks, but nonetheless sent yourself whipping around the corner and into the parking lot. With wide eyes, you blinked yourself to reality and slowed your vehicle to a crawl. You pulled into a parking spot farthest away from other cars before putting it into park and leaning back.
Bringing your hands to your face, you rubbed your eyes. You were a mess, and you felt ridiculous. With a huff you looked up at the darkening sky, annoyed with yourself more than anything. You needed to stop letting yourself feel so paranoid. It was only making you feel like utter shit. Nothing had happened so far, and once you called the police they'd be hot on the murderer's tail. Or at least that's what you hoped.
You opened the door and climbed out of the car, locking it before trudging over to the stairs. First you needed to sort things out with Carson so you had your facts straight, then you could call the cops and hope they actually believed you. And if they didn't then you were just screwed.
With a scowl, you made your way to the door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. After haphazardly kicking off your shoes you headed to the bedroom to slip into something more comfortable.
As soon as the bed came into view you stopped in your tracks. A cold breeze blew through the curtains of the window that you hadn't left open. Your mouth hung agape as you stared out at the tree line. Someone had been in your apartment. There was no doubt about it. You never left the window open especially when leaving for the day. It wasn't like the landlord ever came in to check on things either.
You scanned the room with wide eyes. Nothing else seemed out of place, it was just the window. Gulping thickly you hurried over and slammed it shut, locking it right after and pulling the curtains closed.
With a shaky hand, you dug your phone out of your pocket but paused once you got to the call screen. What were the cops going to do? The most likely outcome of telling them someone broke in and left the window open, was them telling you that you just forgot to close it. They wouldn't do shit.
You shivered and slowly sat down on the bed. You didn't want to think this was related to Carson's warning, but how could you not? Days after being told someone was hunting the survivors of the cult someone suddenly decided to break into your home. You already felt fear flooding your veins. Did this mean you were marked for dead? Was stalking their foreplay to murder?
You needed to talk to Carson. He probably knew more about this than anyone with how he kept track of all the survivors. Maybe he knew the sort of pattern the killer had.
I think someone broke into my apartment. You began bluntly and stared at the screen, hoping for a quick response, but mainly hoping he'd know what to do.
Carson only took seconds to reply. Did he take anything? Was anything moved?
The window was left open
Shit. Was all you got in response for a couple of agonizing minutes until he typed again. Look, you can't fight him off and the police don't even know what's going on. If you want to live you need to pack everything up and get the hell out of dodge
You felt dizzy. You couldn't believe this was happening.
Why didn't you call the cops? You asked with bated breath, your knee now bouncing to match your shaking fingers.
And tell them what? There's a demon after us?
You glared at the screen. For the last fucking time Jack died. This isn't him.
And how do you know that? Have you seen your new stalker? Huh? You wanted to reach through the screen and punch him. You couldn't believe he was mocking you, not with people dying.
Oh fuck you. Why are you so sure it's him?
I know what I saw. Take my advice or don't, whatever. But I'm right and you'll fucking find out soon enough.
You threw your phone down on the bed and held your face in your hands. What the fuck was going on? Three survivors were murdered, someone broke into your apartment, and now Carson was more hellbent than ever on convincing everyone Jack was a murderous demon.
Now you couldn't even call the police because you didn't have anything to tell them. You doubted Carson would be eager to give you anyone's name after that, and it wouldn't do anyone good to just report you had a hunch there was a serial killer after you with absolutely nothing to support it. You were just a sitting duck at this point. There was nothing you could do but run or wait, and neither seemed like great options.
There was really nothing for you here, but it wasn't like that'd change anywhere else. While you didn't have anyone you were close to, at least you had some semblance of a life here. A job, an apartment. It wasn't much but it was something. You didn't want to just up and leave everything behind, and even if you did leave who's to say the murderer wouldn't just find you again? You'd have to go off the grid to truly disappear. That wasn't even feasible, you didn't have the kind of money to go buy a bunch of camping equipment let alone something like a cabin. And even if you did, what life would that be? You'd be even more alone than you already were.
If you stayed, you awaited whatever fate was coming to you. A killer, a stalker, whoever was after you. But If you left, you'd just disappear.
You'd be dead to the world either way.
Next chapter should be a thick one if I planned things right 😼
5.8 pages · 2,030 words