Early this morning, I received a phone call from my parents.
It turned out the continuous rainfall in the town over the past ten days had made the news, along with the murder case and several still-unresolved disappearances. They were both worried about me.
"There's really nothing to worry about," I said in a cheerful tone over the phone. "Things aren't as bad as they seem here. Sure, the rain has caused some inconvenience, but it hasn't affected my life too much."
My dad suggested I move in with them for a while—just until the rain stopped.
I refused.
"I can live on my own. The owner agreed to let me stay behind at the restaurant, and I'm still getting paid..."
"What did you just say?!" my mom shouted. "You're working at a restaurant? What's the point of that college degree then?! Your dad and I took you out of that small town so you could make a life for yourself in the city, and now you're back there—working in a restaurant...!"
"Alright, that's enough!" my dad cut in, trying to calm her down.
"You know your mom's temper—she's just worried about you... Look, it's your life, do what you think is best. But I think it's not safe for you to stay in the town now. Things can get... strange over there. Just be careful. And if things get worse, come home."
"Got it…" I swallowed hard.
Just as I hung up, my phone lit up with a new message.
It was from an unknown number.
*
I'm here.
*
Who is this?!
I instinctively glanced around. From the corner of the room, the rainwater that had collected suddenly began flowing toward me. The stream spread slowly across the floor, splitting into several branches—under the light, it looked like a dangerous, soul-snaring ghostly net.
"Ding—"Another text message appeared on my phone.
"I'm at your front door. Hurry and open up, it's pouring >o<"
Ah—so it was just Officer Sam.Relieved, I quickly opened the door and invited him in.
Today, Sam Whateverhislastname wasn't wearing the uniform. Dressed casually in a jacket and jeans, I realized for the first time just how young he was.
"Officer... ..."
"Chow," he raised his eyebrows, "Samuel Chow."
"Officer Chow, could you maybe call next time instead?" I asked, drained and a little embarrassed.
"JUST call me Sam. A text is more convenient, no?" he said, laughing brightly."Besides, aren't girls like you—socially anxious types—not big fans of phone calls anyway?"
Even though I hadn't actually been harmed yet, every time I narrowly avoided another strange encounter, it felt like the fog and rain over the town grew thicker.It was seeping into this place, soaking into everything, watching everything—leaving no one untouched.
Maybe I would be the next.
**********
The car stopped at a red light. I sat in the passenger seat, restless and tense.
Rain surrounded us on all sides. No matter which direction I looked, the downpour was equally heavy and impenetrable.I suddenly recalled all those times I'd wandered alone in the rain—unable to see, unable to hear, chilled to the bone, disoriented.I never wanted to go through that again.
"Has your boss called you back yet?" Sam asked, pulling me back from the spiral of memory.
Not yet, I told him.Larry had always been responsible—if anything ever happened at the restaurant, he was the first to show up.Two days without returning calls or messages… yeah, it is definitely strange.
"Want me to help you check on him?" Sam offered."It's easy—I can get a location on his phone in just a few minutes. Or maybe try contacting his family? We have their info at the station."
"Wait—so that's how you found my number and home address too?"
"Yup!" He grinned, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I wasn't sure where his confidence came from, but I still thanked him for the offer.Even so, tracking Larry through official channels felt like overkill. Maybe he was just caught up with something. I'd wait a bit longer.
The police station was, surprisingly, very quiet.
Given how many cases had occurred recently, I'd expected the place to be a chaotic mess. But when Sam and I walked in, it was calm—oddly calm.
The older officer, Maurice, had clearly been waiting; the moment we stepped through the door, he came briskly toward us. I'd always known he was a serious man, so I didn't expect a warm welcome—but the sheer darkness clouding his expression was beyond what I'd imagined.
"Something's happened."That was all he said before turning and walking quickly down the corridor, not even sparing me a glance.
Sam's grin vanished like a mask being peeled off. He grabbed his notebook and followed right after, without a word.
And just like that, I was left standing there—awkward and unsure of where to go. Thankfully, two patrolling officers were still stationed at the front desk. They waved me over to Sam's workspace and offered me a glass of water. While chatting, I learned from them that there had just been an emergency call: a body had been discovered, flushed out through the town's underground drainage and into the sewage treatment plant.
Most of the officers were either dispatched to the scene or had been called into an emergency meeting.
Suppressing a sudden, sickening sense of dread, I asked carefully,"Was the victim male or female?"
*
"A little boy," one of the officers answered.
*
Not Vivi.
But that didn't bring me much comfort. Accidents, crimes, bizarre occurrences—they are happening more and more often, and something about them feels deeply connected, like strands of the same cursed web.What is happening to this town?
What could possibly be waiting for us next?
While waiting, I distracted myself by looking through some files stacked on Sam's desk. They were the standard issue—brown folders, identical in appearance and uninspiring in content. As nobody was paying attention to me, I opened one at random, flipping carefully through the papers inside.
Photos. Faces. Names.
"Creeaak…"—I pulled my chair closer to the desk, sitting up straight without realizing it.
My chest felt weightless, and a chill began blooming in the pit of my stomach.
Missing Persons Files.
**********
I flipped through the pages one by one. The people in the photos were all smiling brightly, dressed neatly—I didn't know what they had been through, or where they were now...
When I turned to Vivian's photo, it felt like my heart was suddenly pierced by a knife. She was smiling just like in my memories—radiant and full of vigor.
Aren't good people supposed to be rewarded?Then why would someone as kind as her suffer something like this?
I took out the bill she had once given me from my bag. Looking at the smiling face drawn on it, I felt a wave of bitter sadness.
Just then, a page of documents slipped from my hands.
When I saw the face on that sheet, I was so shocked I nearly cried out loud.
It was that girl.
With trembling fingers, I traced the lines of her face.Amelia—it was her name. She had gone missing last April, only sixteen years old. The girl in the picture was smiling shyly, her face radiating youthful vitality.
To be honest, it was hard to connect the girl I saw at the restaurant with the lively teenager in the photo.
I quietly slipped the sheet into my bag, and then found an excuse to leave the police station.
Back home, my hands were still shaking.I spread Wang Amelia's photo out on the table. The more I looked at it, the more deeply I felt a cold chill rising from my gut.
This girl had gone missing a year ago in a town at least three thousand kilometers away.
How was her case file filed together with Vivi's?The timelines don't overlap. The locations are completely unrelated.
Ding—
Just then, I received a message from Sam.
Perfect timing! I wanted to ask him about this, to see if the police had found any new leads.
I opened my phone to dial his number, but then noticed something strange:There was a call from an unknown number in my call history.
Other than my parents, the only person who had contacted me today was Samuel Chow—and I had already saved his number and name after we spoke.
So why was there another unknown number?
I opened my messages and finally realized…The first text I received today wasn't from Sam at all.
"I'm here."
**********
I'm putting those three words in quotation marks, not just to highlight the dread they carry…But because—I heard those three words with my own ears.
*
"I'm here."
A hoarse voice suddenly came from the direction of the bathroom.
*
I held my breath, frozen in place, staring into the dark space beyond my bedroom door.
Was it just my imagination?
The steady sound of rain echoed through the apartment, gradually drowning out the remnants of that voice—as if nothing had happened at all.
I let out a bitter laugh in my head. I'd thought, after everything that had happened these past few days, that I'd grown stronger. But clearly, I was still startled like a child.
Still… you can never be too careful.
With that thought, I turned off the bedroom light, plunging the entire home into darkness. It wasn't paranoia—just caution.
The light had barely gone out for three seconds when a shrill, scratchy giggle echoed from outside the room... ...
I clapped a hand over my mouth, stifling the scream that nearly burst out, and dropped to the floor. Then I heard it—someone lumbering out of the bathroom, stomping wildly through the living room!
A big guy. I could tell by how the floorboards thudded beneath each step, loud and heavy.
I curled up next to the wardrobe, hugging my knees to my chest. The puddles I'd been too lazy to clean earlier now soaked into my pants, and the instant the water touched my skin, the scabbed-over wound on my knee began to burn with needle-sharp pain.
There was nothing nearby I could use as a weapon. In weather like this, screaming for help would be pointless. My only hope was my phone.
I covered the screen's glow with one hand, and with the other, trembling, I began to type. I only got out one word—"Help"—when I heard him approaching the bedroom.
Thump… thump… thump…
He stopped right outside the door.
Splash.One heavy foot stepped into the shallow water on the floor.
Splash… splash…
I couldn't hold my breath any longer.
Oxygen deprivation made my limbs go numb. Even my lungs felt icy, like they were slowly shutting down—only my heart kept pounding violently, ramming into my ribs with every beat.
Then, at last, I couldn't hold it back—I gagged, retching audibly.
He heard me.
Without hesitation, he charged toward me at full speed!
I scrambled backward, half-crawling, half-tumbling beneath the bed. But he was faster. He grabbed my ankle, his grip iron-tight.
And I lost it.
I screamed—screamed with everything I had.
My voice tore through the storm outside, shrill and raw, like the last, desperate howl of someone who knew they were about to die.
He yanked hard on my ankle, and the left side of my face smashed against the bed frame. A wave of warm blood trickled out from my ear—I couldn't even open my eyes. My body gave up resisting, limp and helpless in his grip. He flung me to the floor with brutal force. My head slammed down again, and the dizziness intensified.
Finally, the nausea overwhelmed me—I threw up.
Disgusted, he kicked me hard in the stomach. The clarity I'd regained after vomiting vanished in an instant. My body went completely limp... ...
I lay there in the cold puddles of water, watching helplessly as he advanced with that same merciless stride.
In the darkness, I couldn't even make out his face. Only his labored, heavy breathing reached my ears.
Thump… thump… thump…
A pungent, metallic stench like rust clung to him.
I tried lifting an arm, but only my fingertips twitched. It was in that moment I realized—shamefully and painfully realized—how fragile I was.
And then, a flash of lightning lit up the entire room.
Silhouettes.
A line of man-figure shadows stretched across the wall, grotesquely elongated by the sudden light.
At the same time, the storm cracked open with a deafening boom, the thunder roaring just outside the window.
The man startled, jerking around to rip the curtains open—but there was nothing outside.
Nothing.
He froze for a moment. Then, rage overtook confusion. He grabbed me by the collar, yanking me up from the floor. I could hardly breathe—he nearly strangled me. Maybe he thought I'd done something. Maybe he thought I was summoning ghosts.
To punish me, he slapped me hard across the face.
The pain was searing, and I cried out, curling into a ball at his feet.
Pat... Pop… Splat-Pat… …
There were no other people in this room.
He knew it better than me.
That sound—it came from the far corner of the room. Something was there. Something unseen.
Pat... Pop…
He backed away a step, trembling as the unknown closed in.
Just then, from beyond the apartment, a car engine roared to life.
SLAM!
The door burst open—Sam.
By the time he stormed in, the man had already escaped—through the window and into the storm.