She forced her breathing to slow, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to piece together logic. Maybe it was the wind. Or maybe she was losing her grip, her mind playing tricks on her. Paranoia was easy to slip into when you were already on the edge.
But then the sound came again.
Click.
Her eyes snapped open, her muscles tensed. Her hand, still gripping the pepper spray, was shaking harder now.
Was she losing her mind?
She thought back to Elijah. The smooth voice, the confidence. His presence in her apartment, his words laced with meaning she couldn't decipher.
He could be in my head. He could be making me doubt myself.
But even as she thought it, the sound came again-closer this time. She swore she could feel it, the presence, the weight of someone just on the other side of the wall.
Amara.
The whisper was unmistakable. The sound pressed into her, cold fingers scraping against her thoughts.
Her hands were trembling uncontrollably now. She tried to steady herself, tried to come up with a plan. Her thoughts were jagged fragments, jumping from fear to strategy, from fear to desperation.
She could leave.
But could she?
Her door was locked. She could slip out the fire escape, but that would mean exposing herself. What if he was already watching? What if he already knew every exit, every path she could take?
Her mind felt broken, fractured, spinning. The more she tried to regain control, the more her body betrayed her-her hands shaking, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
She felt trapped.
What did he want from her?
Was it a game?
Or had she truly found herself in something she couldn't escape from?
She bit her lip, her eyes shifting again toward the hallway. The shadows felt denser now, as though they were alive, crawling toward her.
Don't open the door.
But her mind had other thoughts. It whispered:
What if you already opened it?
She clutched her phone again, her breaths shallow. Her hand felt clammy, her fingers trembling. She tried to convince herself to think, to gather her strength, but her mind felt fragmented, riddled with fear.
The whispers came again.
Amara.
A sharp pain shot through her chest. It wasn't just sound anymore-it felt invasive, like someone was reaching inside her, tugging at her thoughts, breaking her.
She could feel herself slipping, panic setting in. Her vision felt sharper, but at the same time, distorted-too bright, too dim, too much. Her hands clenched tighter around the pepper spray.
She closed her eyes and whispered to herself:
"Stay calm. It's just in your head. It has to be."
But as soon as she opened her eyes, the sound came again, louder.
Click.
She gasped, her breath hitching.
It was at the edge of the hallway now. She swore she could hear footsteps.
Her knees gave out. She sank to the floor, her body shaking. Her mind felt as though it were being crushed under the weight of her own fears.
No. Don't give in. Don't let it win.
But what if it already had?
Was this a test? Or was it her reality?
She couldn't tell anymore. Every sound felt amplified, every whisper felt invasive, every step felt like an executioner's judgment. She thought about her options.
She could call someone. But her voice felt too small, too broken. She could try to escape, but where would she go?
Her thoughts swam, and she felt herself teetering on the edge of something she couldn't pull back from.
The sound came again.
Click.
It felt real this time, as though it was happening, now.
She closed her eyes, trying to block it out, but her breaths came too quickly.
Was this fear? Or had Elijah truly found a way to manipulate her mind?
Her world felt warped, broken. Fear was no longer just an emotion-it felt like a living thing, crawling into every nerve, every synapse, twisting her thoughts into knots.
What if it would never stop?
Her breathing was loud, ragged.
She couldn't stop it.
Her entire body was shaking now, her hands clenched tightly into fists, her heart a steady drumbeat of terror.
Please. Don't let this be real.
But the sound came again.
Click.
The shadows in the hallway seemed closer. She felt herself slipping into them.
And then she knew-there was no escaping this.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, "What do you want from me?"
Silence.
Her breath came so fast it was painful.
And then the whisper returned, sharper, colder.
"Everything."
Her knees gave out entirely.
And Amara Carter knew that this was only the beginning.
---