Later that afternoon, as I was finally unpacking, a knock echoed on my door. I opened it to find Aunt Lisa waiting.
"There's a young man asking for you," she said with a raised brow.
I blinked. "What young man?" I mumbled, already heading downstairs.
I'd recognize that ginger hair anywhere. Even from behind, slouched in the chair like he owned it, I knew—it was Frederick.
I walked up and stood in front of him to confirm. Yep. Him. My eyes narrowed. "You? What are you doing here?" Honestly, it was unsettling. I'd just moved in, and now he was at my house? In my chair? That's borderline horror movie behavior.
He stood up, all smiles. "Good evening to you, too," he said, polite enough, but that grin still crawled under my skin.
"How did you even find me?" I stared at him from head to toe.
"Cris…" he started, and immediately winced. "Wait! Please don't yell at her. I just… wanted to clear the air, that's all." He tugged at his collar and swept his hair back with a nervous hand.
"Look, whatever your friend told you - I'm not some creep. I wasn't trying to pressure you, okay? I thought it'd be fun to show you around. Your friends were going to be there too." His voice dropped, eyes shifting down. "But it's fine. Just… don't think I'm a jerk or something."
He turned toward the door, shoulders sinking like someone who showed up for the wrong audition.
I actually felt sorry for him - he looked genuinely ashamed, like the judgment had cut deeper than he expected. I'd thought about it long and hard. I could take care of myself. And really, how bad could it be? What could he possibly do? If he tried flirting, I'd just slap him harder. Cris and I could handle him if it came to that.
And then, I finally yelled, "Wait!"
He paused, half-turned, just enough to catch my voice.
"I… I'll be there!" I called out.
That evening, I got ready. Red shirt. Black pants. Heels. Hair combed smooth.
"Bye!" I waved to my aunt and stepped outside.
The town was nearly silent. The wind slid through the trees and brushed my cheeks, a soft chill that made me realize - I needed this. Getting out was the right call.
There's something healing about the air, about nature whispering calm. I was nearly at the school when I noticed the emptiness. No one around.
"Am I late?" I checked my phone. No - five minutes early. Still… it felt strange.
I kept walking, steps slowing, eyes lifting toward the sky. Stars had already begun to pierce the twilight, scattered like diamonds across blue velvet.
I smiled.
Then came a noise - distant, unclear. My gaze dropped back to the road.
Blinding headlights.
A car.
Too fast.
I jumped, instinct taking over. Hit the ground hard. Knees stinging.
I shot to my feet, brushing the dirt off my clothes with shaky hands. My eyes scanned the road, still empty. No car. No sign of anything.
"Where did it go?" I muttered, staring in the direction it had vanished.
I turned!
And there it was again. A second car. Closer. Headlights blazing even brighter.
This time, it moved with purpose.
It followed me.
Wherever I went.
I panicked. Bolted in the opposite direction. Long, desperate strides. My chest burned as I ran faster, harder - until the engine noise faded behind me and I stumbled into an abandoned warehouse.
I slammed the door shut behind me.
Gasping for breath, I felt everything crashing back - memories, fear, the old shadows I thought I'd buried. It was like reliving it all over again.
Any second now, someone would break in. A gun aimed at me. A bullet waiting to silence me.
I collapsed, hitting the floor hard, crawling backward until my spine slammed into the wall. My breath came in ragged bursts as the sound of the car grew louder again, just outside.
Frozen. Useless. I didn't even think to call the police.
Then - suddenly - the engine faded.
Gone.
I was still trembling when I heard it: laughter. Cold. Mocking.
I'm not exactly Freddy's biggest fan, but I knew that laugh. It had to be him.
I crept to the filthy window. The glass was fogged with dirt, but clear enough to reveal two blurry figures outside.
Freddy.
And someone else. A second guy I didn't recognize.
"I thought you finally got a donkey kick to the face - but she actually came!" the second guy howled, laughing like some wild animal, snorting between gasps.
"Did you see her face?" Frederick burst out, hysterical.
"Yeah! She was about to cry!" the other guy wheezed, doubling over with both hands on his knees.
"Let's go," Frederick said, still chuckling.
"What about her?" the second guy asked, glancing back. I instinctively lowered my head, staying beneath the window's edge.
"You really think she's still here?" Frederick scoffed. "She's probably hiding under her pillow, crying her pathetic little eyes out."
And they were off again - laughing like demons.
I clenched my fists so tight my knuckles ached. I wanted to storm out there and slap the hell out of him. But the second I grabbed the door handle, my heart sank.
Locked.
I jiggled it, twisted it both ways - nothing. It wouldn't budge.
I spun toward the window, desperate now. Tried to force it open, but the rust held fast. It wouldn't move either.
And when I finally looked out…
They were gone.
I was trapped. Alone.
I slid down beside the door, arms wrapped tightly around my knees. Buried my face in them. The tears came fast, hot, and humiliated.
The fear I'd buried a year ago came crashing back.
I saw it again. My father's body. Lifeless. Cold.
I cried until the ache in my chest gave way to something hollow. And in that silence, a thought clicked.
If there's a door, there *must* be a key. Maybe even a spare.
I forced myself up off the floor and wiped my face. I wasn't giving up yet.
I pulled out my phone and switched on the flashlight. The beam hit the wooden floor - elegant carvings stretched across every plank, each line flowing into the next like a seamless story etched in oak. For a moment, I forgot what I was even doing, mesmerized by the craftsmanship, admiring the unseen artist's dedication.
But then reality snapped back - I wasn't here to admire art. I needed a key.
I scanned the room. To the left, wide, dusty windows streaked with rust. To the right, wooden shelves loaded with books - thousands of them, cloaked in thick dust and draped in spiderwebs.
I cringed but forced myself to dig through them. My fingers brushed against the filth, disturbing years of stillness. Then, I froze. A spider crawled across the spine of a book I was holding.
I shrieked and dropped it.
The spider hit the ground - I smashed it beneath my slipper without thinking. As I bent to pick the book back up, something caught my eye: a floor plank a few steps away, the carvings on it completely out of sync with the rest.
Curious, I touched it. The floor around it was clean - suspiciously clean. More importantly, the plank was loose.
"Could the key be under this?" I wondered.
Logic told me to leave it alone. Every instinct screamed *Don't touch it.*
But I couldn't help myself.
I pressed down.
It dipped under my palm, the opposite side lifting up like a lever.
And then, I instantly regretted it.
A low groaning sound echoed through the silence. Multiple planks shifted and creaked all around me. I had no time to react - no time to run.
The floor gave way beneath me.
I fell.