Chapter 1
It had been drizzling for a while now, but I barely noticed. I sat on an old, rusted bench beneath a half-dead tree, feeling like something invisible had caged my neck. Not literally but a slow, suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe. Like a ghost’s hand, lingering.
Tears sat in my eyes, but refused to fall. They never really did. My emotions were tangled beyond sense raw, chaotic, heavy. I didn’t know what I was feeling, only that I wanted it to stop. But then again, it had always been like this. This wasn’t a phase. It was a pattern.
I tilted my head toward the gray sky, silently asking for something—anything. A drop touched my cheek. I flinched and reached up, thinking it was finally a tear. But it wasn’t.
Rain.
Just rain.
I stood up quickly, suddenly aware of the dress clinging to my skin. It wasn’t even mine—it belonged to Tyla. I had borrowed it just for a day, swearing I’d return it without a scratch. And here I was, seconds from ruining it.
I walked fast, shoes slipping slightly on wet ground. I needed shelter. Somewhere temporary. Somewhere quiet. That’s when I saw the house.
It sat quietly behind a tangle of thriving greenery. Despite the rain, the flowers bloomed bright, open, alive. Their scent cut through the wet air like a soft warning. The porch had five steps leading to a covered entry, its wooden overhang worn but welcoming.
I climbed the steps and sat beneath it. The air felt different here. Like the house was holding its breath.
No one was around. No sound. Just silence. I looked behind at the closed door. Locked. Probably vacant. It was summer break after all—families were away. Living their clean, cheerful lives.
Families.
The word echoed through my chest. I didn’t have one—not in the way people mean when they say it with warmth. My father had been abusive—brutal, terrifying. The day he left was the first time I breathed without flinching. But my mother? She wasn’t whole after that. Maybe she never had been. Years of bruised trust and broken glass had turned her sharp. Toxic, even.
I don’t blame her. But I can’t love her either. Not fully.
CRACK.
The sound cut through the stillness.
I jerked upright, heart slamming against my chest.
Was someone there? Watching me?
My mind flashed through a hundred true-crime episodes. Girls alone. Strange houses. Unexpected visitors. Killers.
I’d heard stories. A string of recent attacks random, unexplained. Men and women both. No pattern. Just loss.
I scanned the yard. Another sound echoed—this time from my left. The wall that separated the backyard from the forested patch behind the house.
The forest wasn’t dangerous no wolves or wild animals. Just dense. Secluded. Easy to hide in.
I told myself it was nothing. A stray dog. A cat.
Still, my body wouldn’t relax. My breath came shallow. My hands trembled.
I tried to focus. I needed to think of the lie I’d tell my mother. About the interview. About why I failed. Again.
They had been polite. Too polite. No one mentioned my voice, but I knew. The way it cracked. The way I stuttered when I tried too hard to sound normal.
CRUNCH.
Closer. Again.
Then a voice. Low. Croaky. Not quite human.
I stood up fast, instinct screaming.
I ran to the side wall. Climbed it in one scramble. The dress tore. Dirt streaked across the fabric. Tyla was going to kill me.
I dropped into the backyard—and froze.
Blood.
A small cat lay near a bush, its leg torn open. The wound oozed, exposing raw flesh. Not deep enough to be fatal, but cruel. Intentional.
I crouched beside it. The kitten’s chest moved slowly, breath shallow. I reached out, cradling it gently.
CRACK.Again. Behind me.
My grip tightened. Every muscle in my body tensed.
Something—or someone—was there. I could feel it. That presence. Cold. Watching.
I looked over my shoulder. Slowly. Then quickly.
No one.
The yard was empty.
But then I saw it.
A page. Folded, tucked beneath where the kitten had been.
I laid the kitten softly in my lap and reached for it, fingers trembling. The paper was damp. Stained with blood at the corner.
I unfolded it carefully. Only six words were written:
“Run away from your sin.”
No signature. No explanation.
Just that.
I stared at it, heart pounding. The rain continued to fall, quiet now. Steady.
And suddenly, I wasn’t sure if the note was a warning...
Or a sentence.
