The Ignition

Copyright ©️ 2026 Elena K. All rights reserved

I didn’t close the door behind me. I left it wide open—a gaping mouth in the hallway—and I didn’t look back. I knew he was there, standing in the shadows of the living room, watching my every move with that predatory stillness of his. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. His presence always felt like a weight, a hand around my throat that I had mistaken for a caress for far too long.

I walked down the stairs, my bare feet cold against the marble. At the final step, I stopped. I uncuffed my silver bangles. They fell to the floor with a hollow, metallic ring. A debt paid in full.

I stepped out into the night. The air was biting, smelling of wet earth and coming rain. I reached the car, my fingers trembling as I fumbled with the keys. I got in, threw my bag into the passenger seat, and stared at the house.

He was at the window now. A silhouette framed by the amber glow of the fireplace.

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Ignition. The engine roared to life, a mechanical growl that drowned out the pounding of my heart. I put it in gear and drove. I didn't check the rearview mirror. I didn't want to see the house getting smaller; I wanted it to cease to exist.

And then, I woke up.

It was 07:00 AM. The sunlight was filtering through the blinds, slicing the room into neat, golden strips. I was in my own bed. My own apartment. Three hundred kilometers away from that house on the mountain.

I sat up, my breath hitching. My skin was damp with cold sweat. It was just a dream. A rehearsal. I had been having this dream for weeks, an endless loop of leaving, but the weight in my chest never seemed to lighten.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand. One new notification.

My heart skipped a beat before I even touched the screen. I knew that number by heart, even though I had deleted the name years ago.

"I'll be waiting at the house. 00:00 tonight. Don't be late."

The ghost was calling. And this time, it wasn't a dream.