SELENE POV
I pace my living room, glancing at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time.
"I can't find Freya anywhere," I mumble to myself.
I know I shouldn't do that, but do I have another choice?
Picking up my phone, I dial Elijah's number.
It keeps ringing.
"It's two in the morning. What do you expect?" I say to myself.
I don't know, but something's wrong.
She's not answering her phone, and she didn't come home after work.
I bite my lip, the worry gnawing at my insides.
Freya is reliable, the kind of person who would never leave me hanging like this.
But... I don't know, I just have this feeling.
My eyes scan the room, as if Freya might magically appear if I look hard enough.
On the third ring, he picks up the call.
"Hey, can I talk to Freya for a sec?" I say, unable to hide the worry in my voice.
Elijah sighs heavily. "Look, Selene, she is not here and--."
"Where is she then?" I say.
Elijah doesn't say anything. "She is supposed to be with you."
"I know what you did, Selene," Elijah says, my breath catching in my throat.
The silence on the other end of the line grows thick, almost tangible.
"I know what's going on, Selene," Elijah's tone sharpens.
I take a deep breath, my chest tight with anxiety. "Elijah--."
The line goes dead, and I'm left with nothing but the hum of the dial tone.
I stare at the phone in disbelief, my heart racing.
What just happened?
My thoughts swirl in a tornado of doubt and fear.
I never meant to hurt Elijah, never meant to betray our friendship.
But when I met Freya, something just... clicked.
And now, here I am, standing in the wreckage of my own making.
The air in the room grows colder, and I realize that I'm holding my breath.
I need to find Freya. Not just to explain, but to make sure she is okay.
With trembling hands, I begin to type out a text message.
"Elijah, if you're there, please, please answer. I'm so sorry." But I know that words alone won't be enough to fix this.
I have to talk to him, to look him in the eyes and make it right.
My eyes sting with unshed tears as I pull on my jacket and step out into the night.
The street is quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic.
I feel lost, adrift in a sea of doubt and guilt.
The wind picks up, carrying with it the faint scent of rain.
My heart feels heavier with each step I take away from the safety of my home. But I have to find Elijah, have to tell him everything.
My mind races with memories of our secret meetings, the way Freya's eyes sparkle, the gentle touch of her hand.
It all seems so perfect, so right. Until now.
The first drops of rain begin to fall, cold and unforgiving, as I climb into my car.
The engine roars to life, and I pull away from the curb, my eyes scanning the dark streets.
The glow of streetlights reflects off the wet asphalt, creating a path I hope will lead me to Freya.
But as the minutes tick by, the emptiness of the night only serves to amplify my fear.
Where could she be?
My mind is a whirlwind of possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.
Did I do something stupid? Is she hurt? Or worse, is she just avoiding me?
The rain grows heavier, drumming against the windshield as I speed through the city.
The wipers squeal in protest, struggling to keep up with the deluge.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes, and I almost swerve off the road.
My heart pounds as I glance at the screen.
It's a message from Elijah.
"I know," it reads. "Meet me at the pier."
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THE PSYCHOPATH
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