CHAPTER 9
Felix leaned heavily against the wall, the weight of his turmoil pulling him deeper into a fractured reality. His eyes, flickering red like dying embers, hinted at something primal, something barely restrained. The living room seemed to breathe in tandem with his rage, shadows lengthening and shivering as though they, too, feared what lay within him.
Outside, the sky darkened ominously, clouds rolling in like an approaching army, suffocating the last traces of sunlight. His mutterings became more incoherent, fractured syllables slipping from his lips.
"Why? Why?! Why do they all want to take things from me? It's their fault. It's good that she has no idea what's going on... So why? Why is she hiding things from me? Why?!"
The whites of his eyes were devoured by crimson once more, only to recede into an eerie pale gray, as though an internal war was raging just behind his irises. He clutched his temples, his fingers trembling as he fought to retain control.
Maya clutched her phone tighter, her hand trembling. The whisper from the other end of the call had been cold, almost inhuman.
"You're not alone."
The line had gone dead, the silence that followed even more suffocating than the words themselves. Her wrist, where the bruise had yet to fully heal, suddenly throbbed with a searing heat. She gasped, cradling her hand, the burning sensation spreading up her arm like wildfire.
Fear gnawed at her resolve. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. The bruise, the whispers—they were all fragments of a nightmare that refused to end.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. But the tightness in her chest only grew, pressing her ribs inward. She needed help—now. Without thinking, she hurried out of her office, her footsteps echoing in the hallway.
As she reached the door of Mr. Sam's office, an unsettling sound made her freeze. A faint, ragged panting emanated from within. Her heart pounded in her ears as she looked around, ensuring no one else was watching. Hesitantly, she leaned closer, pressing her ear to the door.
"...help me," a soft, trembling voice whispered. It was unmistakably Sam's.
"Excuse me," Maya called out, her voice barely above a whisper as she pushed the door open.
Inside, Sam was slumped on the couch, his face ashen, his chest rising and falling in shallow, frantic bursts. His eyes fluttered, unfocused, as though he were trapped in some invisible snare.
"Wake up, Sam! Wake up!" Maya rushed to his side, shaking his shoulder. Her hands felt ice-cold against his fevered skin.
But Sam didn't respond.
Panic tightened its grip on her. Her gaze darted to the table, where a glass of water sat, half-full. Without hesitation, she snatched it up, her hands trembling as she splashed the cold water onto Sam's face.
He jolted violently, his eyes snapping open wide with a mixture of terror and confusion. He gasped for air, his fingers clawing at the couch cushions. Maya's relief was immediate, though a lingering dread still gnawed at her.
"Sam, are you okay?" Her voice was soft but urgent.
Sam's eyes finally focused on her. His expression crumpled, his voice a mere whisper. "Something... Something's wrong, Maya. They're getting stronger. I... I couldn't breathe. They were here. In my head."
Maya's blood ran cold. "Who?"
Sam swallowed hard, his hands still trembling. "I don't know... but it's like they're watching, waiting."
Before Maya could respond, a knock at the door made both of them jump.
Officer Cott and Mr. Park stood at the entrance, their faces grave.
"Miss Maya," Officer Cott said, his tone clipped, "we have something for you."
Mr. Park stepped forward, producing a small, sleek device that looked like a cross between a pendant and a pager.
"It's a protective device," Mr. Park explained. "Wear it at all times. If you feel threatened, press this button. It'll send a signal directly to us."
Maya took the device, her fingers brushing against its cold, metallic surface. "Thank you," she murmured.
Mr. Park hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. He handed it to Maya.
The image showed a pale wrist with a bruise—a bruise nearly identical to hers.
"This was found on another victim," Mr. Park said softly. "We're trying to figure out what it means. But whatever's happening, it's not over."
Maya's fingers traced the bruise in the photo, a cold shiver crawling up her spine.
Meanwhile, back in his darkened home, Felix sat in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests until his knuckles turned white. His breaths came in ragged bursts, and the shadows seemed to whisper around him.
They know.
They're coming.
A cruel smile twisted his lips, his eyes flaring crimson once more.
"Let them come," he whispered. "They'll never take her from me. NEVER!"