She wanted to lt back into the front door. Her hands trembled as she covered her mouth to avoid alerting the entire neighborhood.
She took deep, calming breaths, counting to ten as she folded into a corner of the wall, staring at the bird. Her heart pounded, her palms clammy, her breathing uneven.
What do I do? Fear.
What do I do? Panic.
What the hell do I do? Anger.
She ran her fingers through her hair. Soone had the audacity to ss with her at a ti like this?
She could barely function, barely sleep—and now this?
Her teeth clenched as rage bubbled to the surface. Soone had broken into her house, killed a bird, and left it for her to find. They wanted her scared. Well, screw them.
With shaky hands, she snapped pictures of the scene. Evidence. Proof of their twisted little ga.
Was this funny to them?
She stood abruptly, kicking the bird across the room before regret washed over her. She smacked her forehead, muttering, "Poor thing didn’t deserve this."
Grinding her teeth, she gathered the bird in so tissue paper. It was dark outside, but she still walked to the back of the building.
The night was dark, and the air felt heavy with impending rain. In the backyard, under a soft patch of soil surrounded by tiny flowers, she dug a shallow grave.
She quickly dug a hole in a soft patch of soil where tiny flowering plants decorated the yard. Placing the bird in the hole, she stared at it.
Placing the bird gently in the hole, she leaned on the shovel and asked aloud,
"Did that psycho enjoy this? Does he think I’m prey he can toy with?"
She laughed bitterly as lightning struck the sky. "I’ll bury them just like this bird," she murmured.
Shoving the sand over the bird’s grave, she held the knife in her hand, then stuck it into the grave. That’s how she’d bury the psycho too.
Back inside, she locked the door tightly and shut her windows, double-checking each one.
She pulled out her chest, a small box where she stored her most precious possessions. Inside, she kept every red note. All carefully preserved.
Three notes stood out, which she placed side by side:
"I can give you pleasure like that." (The beginning)
"I’m coming for you." (The bridge)
"I love you." (The burial)
She stared at the three notes.
She hadn’t been able to tamper with the evidence on the girl’s body, so she’d painstakingly recreated the notes.
Her photographic mory had captured the exact cursive, allowing her to duplicate them with perfection.
At first, she thought she had one stalker.
Could she have been wrong? Were there two, actually?
She looked at the three notes again: first seductive, second threatening, third obsessive.
More than two?
Her forr bravado crumbled to ash. What if there were more?
One stalker, she could handle. Two was risky. But more?
Her hands trembled, sweat dampening her palms. What had triggered the red notes? How had it co to this?
Her phone suddenly rang, making her jump out of her skin. "Jesus Christ!"
It was Leah. She picked up, trying to sound normal. "Hey, babe," Leah said sweetly.
Frida smiled, finally enjoying a mont of normalcy. "Hey."
"Are we still doing the online studying tonight?" Leah asked, her glasses perched on her nose. Tyler suddenly popped up behind her, circling his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek.
Frida’s body sizzled with jealousy. She missed him so much.
"Frida?" Leah’s voice brought her back.
She cleared her throat. "Yeah, I’m too tired tonight. Can we do it tomorrow morning?" she whispered, her voice raw.
Leah gasped. "Holy shit, is that blood?"
"What the fuck happened to your hand?" Reg asked, her wet hair glistening like she’d just taken a shower.
Frida gritted her teeth. "I scratched it while cutting... onions," she said, regretting the excuse as Leah arched a brow.
"Onions?" Reg repeated, licking the ring on her lip. Frida tried to ignore the hickey glaring from her shirt collar and the lipstick stains poorly hidden there.
Frida raised a brow. Interesting. Reg noticed and blurted, "Oh, sothing important ca up..."
"Is that lip gloss on your lips—" Leah began, but Reg cut her off.
"Sorry, gotta run. My bird, Tweety, is choking on bird seeds." Reg logged off.
Dying birds. Great timing, Frida thought.
"You should get that checked," Leah said, concerned.
"Yeah," Frida replied, scratching her neck nervously.
"No, seriously. Get a tetanus shot ASAP, or it might get infected," Leah pressed.
Tyler, clingy as ever, straddled Leah’s back and gathered her hair in his hands.
"You should also check on Laz," Leah added, cutting off Frida’s jealous glare.
"Why?" Frida asked, trying to sound indifferent.
"Because you miss him."
Frida wanted to deny it, pretend she didn’t care. She wasn’t about to admit she wanted him to show up at her door with Skittles. Instead, she focused on the red notes.
"See you tomorrow, fam," Leah giggled as Tyler kissed her.
"Yeah, see ya," Frida muttered, shutting her laptop.
Her eyes returned to the red notes. Three ssages. Three completely different handwritings.
"I can give you pleasure like that."
"I’m coming for you."
"I love you."
Her heart pounded with each phrase. Laz had admitted to sending the notes, but he never said which ones. This wasn’t one person. This was sothing far more twisted.
Deciding to clear her head, Frida stepped outside to lean on the dorm railing. She gazed at the starless sky.
Her phone rang again. An unknown number.
She hesitated. She could walk away. Move out. She didn’t want to be the stereotypical idiot in every horror movie.
Against her better judgnt, she answered.
"Hello," she said, her voice shaky.
"Do. You. Really. Trust. Laz?" The distorted voice sent chills down her spine.
"You think this is funny?" she snapped. "Listen, you son of a bitch, if I catch you, I will end you."
Silence.
A sleek black Lamborghini pulled up in front of her dorm. Laz sat in the driver’s seat, dressed in all-black leather and dark shades, as if he’d just co from a racetrack.
Her body shivered as the moonlight reflected on his face. The distorted voice ca through the phone again, perfectly synced with Laz’s lips.
"Do. You. Trust. Laz?"
Fury surged through her. Without thinking, she spun on her heels, ready to kill him.
He watched her sprinting toward him and smirked.
That’s it, baby girl. Run to .
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