The first message came at 11:47 PM.
You look beautiful today, princess.
Maya felt it in her bones. The weight of those words, the cold dread creeping in like a shadow. She didn't need to look at the number. She knew who it was.
Vic.
Her fingers shook as she stared at the screen, the harsh light of the phone reflecting off her wide eyes. Her mind screamed at her to block him, to shut him out—but her fingers hovered, too afraid to move.
Instead, she locked the phone, tossed it aside like it would somehow erase the sickness crawling under her skin.
Then, the second message.
Red suits you. Wear it again for me.
Maya's stomach twisted. She had worn red today.
Her body went cold as she sat motionless, breathing slow and shallow. He was watching. He had been watching.
Her eyes darted to the window, to the street outside. No one. Nothing. But the air felt wrong.
The next morning, she found the rose.
It was on the driver's seat of her car, blood-red petals scattered on the leather. Beneath it, a note. Handwritten.
You should've been nicer to me.
Her heart stopped.
This wasn't just some sick joke.
She stared at the note for too long, the words dancing on the edges of her vision, until her hands trembled and she crammed it into her jacket pocket. She had to get away from it.
Someone had touched her car. Someone had gotten too close.
She glanced around, feeling like she was suffocating.
Not a single soul in sight.
At first, it was just the feeling. The sensation that he was near.
In the hallways, a presence at her back. The eerie quiet that settled when she passed someone, and the unmistakable scent of his cologne, always just a second too late.
She couldn't shake it.
The chill of his eyes following her every move. The creeping suspicion that something worse was coming.
Then came the voice.
It was a whisper, too close behind her, vibrating her spine with terror.
"You smell good."
Maya's feet froze, heart hammering in her chest. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move.
Vic.
His presence slid under her skin like a disease, infecting everything around her. He was there. Right behind her. His breath on her neck.
She spun around, eyes wild, and saw him standing too casually, as if he had every right to be there. His grin stretched wider than it should have.
"Relax, princess," he murmured. "You act like you're scared of me."
The words didn't register. The air went thick. Her hand balled into a fist, nails digging into her palm as she forced herself to walk away.
His laughter followed her, filling her ears, making everything worse.
That night, she couldn't sleep.
The room was silent, save for the quiet hum of the fan. She was wide awake, but the darkness felt oppressive.
Her eyes flickered to the window.
The curtain shifted, a slight breeze tugging it.
But there was no wind.
The hair on the back of her neck stood.
The phone buzzed.
Check your window.
Her blood ran cold. The message was clear.
The room seemed to close in on her. She turned slowly, eyes locking on the glass. The street outside was empty, the houses dark. But something was wrong.
She could feel him there. She could feel his eyes boring into her.
Her hand trembled as she reached for her phone again, but the buzzing came faster now, urgent.
You're not alone.
The words, sickly sweet, poisoned the air.
She wasn't sure what happened next. One second, she was frozen, heart thundering in her chest. The next, she was scrambling out of bed, tearing at her door, searching for any escape from the suffocating terror.
Maya was shaking; she didn't understand when or why she was dialing Eddie's number.
The line rang once before he answered.
"Maya?" Groggy. Confused.
"There was someone outside my window," she gasped.
The grogginess vanished. His voice sharpened. "Stay inside. I'm coming."
She barely remembered hanging up. Barely remembered breathing.
By the time Eddie arrived to maya's grandmother's house , he found her curled in the corner of her room, knees hugged to her chest.
He checked the yard. The street. Every door and window.
Nothing.
No footprints. No sign of anyone.
"Maya." He knelt in front of her, hands gripping her arms. "Are you sure—"
"I saw him," she choked out. "He—" Her fingers dug into his shirt. "He was there, Eddie."
His jaw clenched. "Vic."
She nodded.
The next day, Eddie found him.
Maya had just turned the corner when she saw them. Eddie had Vic pinned against the lockers, one hand wrapped around his shirt, the other balled into a fist.
"What the hell do you want?" Eddie's voice was low, dangerous.
Vic just laughed.
That laugh. It scraped across her skin like nails on glass.
"Relax, man," Vic sneered. "I just miss her, that's all. Thought we could catch up."
Eddie didn't wait for another word. His fist cracked against Vic's jaw, and the punch echoed down the hallway.
Maya stood frozen in place, watching as Vic wiped the blood from his mouth, his smile never fading.
The teachers were too late to stop the chaos. Eddie was escorted to the principal's office, but Vic just straightened up, his grin growing wider.
He didn't seem afraid.
He didn't seem anything.
Another message.
Tsk, tsk, princess. Bad girls get punished.
Her stomach twisted as she read the words. Her pulse quickened.
Every inch of her screamed to delete the message, to turn it off and pretend it didn't exist. But her fingers couldn't move fast enough.
Another vibration.
You really shouldn't have done that.
Maya froze. The phone slipped from her hands, clattering against the floor as she stood motionless, staring into the dark corners of her room.
There was no movement. Nothing but the sound of her ragged breaths.
But she knew. She could feel him.
A figure, lingering in the shadows, waiting. Watching.
That night, it came.
She had been out with her friends, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her gut. Trying to pretend things were normal.
But when she returned home, the car was there.
His car.
It rolled up beside her, the window lowering slowly.
"Elijah's party this weekend." He rested an arm on the wheel, voice smooth. "You should come. I'll make it worth your while."
She didn't stop. Didn't look at him.
But the car moved with her, keeping pace, and she could feel him there. Feel his eyes on her.
Vic smirked, like he had all the time in the world. "You're running from me now, princess? You know I don't like that."
Her feet moved faster, her pulse racing. The next moment, she was sprinting, weaving between cars, her breath coming in desperate gasps.
The car accelerated, tires squealing as it gained on her.
Run.
Her mind screamed it, and she didn't look back, didn't stop until she was pounding on Eddie's door.
The car stopped at the end of the street, the engine idling, like a predator waiting for the kill.
Eddie opened the door, eyes wide with alarm. "Maya, what—"
"He was following me," she whispered, too breathless to say more.
His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. He didn't need to ask any more questions.
The last text came, unread.
Not tonight, princess. But soon.
Maya dropped the phone. The words lingered in her mind, a constant hum of dread.
Soon.
Soon, Vic would come.
And there would be nowhere left to hide.