EMILIA

Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

His voice sliced through the air, his voice sharp and cold.

His eyes locked on mine like he could see straight through me.

How did I not get hit? Everything happened too fast.

“No, you’re the one trying to get me killed!” I snapped. My voice cracked.

My hands were trembling, balled into fists at my sides. I didn’t care if people stared. I didn’t care if he was trying to calm me down with that icy tone. He had no idea.

He caused all this.

Him.

“You caused all this!” I shouted again, and I knew he could feel the rage building inside me like fire behind glass.

“And how,” I demanded, breathless, voice shaking, “how did you even get here so fast?”

My eyes flicked to the street. The car. The people were still watching like they were waiting for a scene to unfold.

I rewound everything in my head. From the restaurant to this moment.

None of it made sense.

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared back like he was calculating every word.

“I was behind you,” he finally said.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You didn’t leave the restaurant.”

“I did. You’re just… hallucinating.”

He said it like it was nothing. Like my entire sense of reality could be tossed aside as easily as his breath.

I yanked my arm away—that’s when I realized he’d been holding me.

He had caught me before the impact. He saved it, but he caused it.

Chest to chest. Heart to heart. I had been in his arms and hadn’t even noticed it until he let go.

Something about that made me even angrier.

“You come crashing into my life with your crazy imagination,” I said, voice rising, “and now you’re standing there saying I’m hallucinating?”

My words were venom. I wanted to hurt him—or at least make him feel the chaos he brought into me.

“Who the hell do you think is hallucinating now, Mr. D?” I spat, the nickname burning like acid on my tongue. I grabbed my bag off the ground and stormed past him.

He had the nerve to speak again. “At least let me give you a ride home.”

His voice was still level. Still sharp.

I didn’t even look back.

“Fuck you,” I shouted over my shoulder, voice wild and reckless.

********

My heart pounded as my bare feet slammed against the cold ground—running, breathless.

A low growl echoed behind me.

Louder.

Closer.

I didn’t know I had this kind of strength in me, didn’t know I could run like this, like my life depended on it. Because it did.

Then—

I slipped.

My foot struck a jagged rock. I crashed to the ground, pain exploding through my side.

The creature didn’t stop.

It kept coming.

Snarling. Vicious. Relentless.

I scrambled to my feet, heart thundering so hard I could hear it in my skull. Another growl—louder this time, right behind me.

I turned, breath frozen in my chest.

And there it was.

The beast.

Its monstrous body towered over me, fur matted, eyes glowing with hunger. It opened its mouth—wide, feral, savage. I could feel the heat of its breath on my skin.

It lunged.

“Ahhhhhhh!” I screamed, bolting upright.

My chest heaved up and down, slick with sweat.

It was a dream.

A nightmare.

My eyes darted across the room, wild, searching—as if the monster might still be hiding somewhere in the shadows, waiting to finish what it started.

I glanced over at Jenny, my roommate.

Fast asleep—like the world wasn’t falling apart.

Ever since that conversation with that psychopath, I hadn’t been able to function properly.

My mind hasn’t shut up since.

I tossed and turned, pulling the sheets over my head, then kicking them off again. Sleep? Impossible.

I stared at the ceiling.

Then at the shadows.

Then at nothing.

A glance at the clock—2:07 a.m.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.

The hours dragged like chains. I couldn’t sleep; neither could I read or even think straight.

By the time 8 a.m. finally rolled around, I felt like I’d been through a war.

And the worst part?

The day hadn’t even started.

“Em, are you sure you’re okay?” Sasha asked as we walked back from class later that day.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied.

I couldn’t tell her. Not when I hadn’t even told her about the pills. I felt horrible keeping it from her… but I was out of options.

She nudged me. “So… what did the hot fella say to you?”

I glanced at her overly bare, post-workout face and raised a brow. “Hot fella?”

“Yeah, the one who drove you home, remember?” she said, voice laced with sarcasm and a teasing smile.

“Nothing important,” I said, lying again.

Sasha tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “Did he say anything about me?”

She gave me a ridiculous puppy-eyed look that almost made me smile.

I forced a chuckle. “No, Sash. He doesn’t even know you exist.”

“Ouch,” she gasped dramatically.

“We held eye contact for a whole 0.9 seconds.”

Then I laughed.

Because she always found a way to shift my mood—even when everything inside me was unraveling.

“It seems like you’re familiar with him,” Sasha said, her voice light but her eyes digging.

She wanted more. She always did. And usually, I told her everything.

But not this.

“Later, Sash,” I muttered, brushing past her—running from a question, escaping to my last class for the day.

I dropped my bag the moment I entered the hall and sat down, already dreading the day ahead.

Please don’t come today.

I didn’t pray often, but this time, I did—whispering the hope in my head like it would shield me somehow.

But of course…

Before I could even finish the thought, I caught it.

His scent.

Rich. Sharp. Expensive.

Psychopath.

Of course he came.

“You can sit beside me,” Claribel purred, her voice slicing through the noise.

I turned my head, and sure enough—she was talking to the psychopath. Mr. D.

It felt like his gaze was searching—hunting for something invisible to everyone else. Then it found me.

A strange jolt shot through my chest, as if he had pierced a part of me no one had ever touched. Our eyes locked for a split second.

I tore my gaze away, heart thundering in my chest, shaken by a feeling I couldn’t name, let alone understand.

Claribel nudged one of her minions aside with a flick of her perfectly manicured hand.

He took the seat beside her, calm as ever, and she started openly flirting—twirling her hair, giggling like it was a performance for the entire hall.

Slut, I muttered in my head, clenching my fists.

I grabbed my bag and tried to leave for class as quickly as possible, hoping to avoid—

Of course not.

“Trying to escape from me, Miss V?” His voice slid in behind me, smooth and amused.

I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

Then his hand caught my arm.

His grip was firm, not painful, just… controlling.

“Let go of me,” I said through clenched teeth. “And stay the fuck away from my life. I’m warning you.”

He stared at me, unreadable.

But slowly, he loosened his grip.

I didn’t look back, but I could still feel him watching me like his gaze was a brand pressed into my spine.

“You have a few days to think, Miss V,” he said quietly.

I turned to respond.

But he was already gone.

Just like that.

Vanished.

Was I hallucinating? Or was he really that fast… again?

I opened the door to my room, thinking maybe, just maybe, it was all over. The weirdness, the chaos. A moment to breathe.

“Emilia Flynn.”

My heart stopped.

“Mom?” I blinked, frozen in the doorway.

She stood there, arms wide, that familiar smile stretched too wide across her face. “You don’t look happy to see me,” she said lightly. “I came to check on you, darling.”

“How did you even get in?” My voice wavered. I didn’t know why my heartbeat spiked—but it did.

“Your roommate let me in. She just stepped out.”

She stepped forward, eyes soft. “Won’t you give your mother a hug?”

I hesitated… then slowly stepped into her arms.

“Mom, you didn’t have to come. It’s only been a week. I told you over the phone—I’m fine.”

“Sorry, big girl,” she said, stroking my hair. “I just brought you more pills. I figured it might be harder to get them here.”

My body tensed.

“I haven’t even finished the last pack,” I muttered.

She pulled back just slightly, her eyes narrowing.

“You haven’t been taking them?”

There was panic. Sharp and sudden in her voice.

I stared at her, throat tight.

Why did it feel like this had nothing to do with my health… and everything to do with control?

“I have, Mom. The ones you gave me could open a pharmacy.”

I expected her to laugh or at least smile.

She didn’t.

Instead, she stayed tense, placing the fresh pack of pills on my reading table like she was delivering something sacred… or dangerous.

She moved closer, eyes scanning the room like she was searching for someone.

“Make sure no one knows about this,” she whispered, her voice low and urgent. “I told you the aftermath of not taking it could be… drastic.”

Her face was so serious, so sharp, it sent a chill through me.

“Okay, mamacita,” I said with a nervous grin, trying to lighten the mood.

But dread was already curling in my stomach like smoke.

We talked a little after that—school, classes, the usual small talk. She didn’t stay long.

When the door finally clicked shut behind her, I stared at the pill bottle sitting on my table.

It looked just like the last one.

But this time… it felt different.

My heartbeat quickened.

I opened the bottle slowly. No label. No instructions. Just that sterile, artificial scent.

That was it.

No more guessing.

No more trusting.

I was done.

I wouldn’t take the pills—and whatever happened next… I’d finally know the truth.