WHISPER

Chapter 4

"... then I met him"

The sound of the waves faded as I hurried away from the beach, my mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions. What had just happened? I couldn't shake the feeling that I was spiraling into something far bigger than I could comprehend. It felt like being pulled into a current, and no matter how hard I swam, I couldn't escape.

His words echoed in my mind: Maybe.

I clenched my fists, frustrated by his cryptic response. What was I supposed to do with that? Why couldn't he just give me a straight answer? My heart raced, the unease gnawing at me as I quickened my pace. The streets were dark, the moon casting a faint glow, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were too loud.

Back at my apartment, I locked the door behind me, the familiar click offering little comfort. I leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The silence was suffocating, pressing in on me from all sides. I should call someone—my roommate, maybe—but the thought of trying to explain everything felt overwhelming.

I paced the room, my nerves buzzing. That guy—whoever he was—had saved me that night. But why? And why hadn't he said anything about it until now? My mind raced, trying to piece together a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

I needed answers. I needed to know who he was, why he kept appearing in my life, and why I couldn't stop thinking about him.

The apartment felt quieter than ever, but at least the conversation had taken some of the edge off. I grabbed my tea from earlier, now cold, and dumped it down the sink, the act somehow calming.

As I stood by the kitchen window, staring out into the dark street below, I couldn't help but wonder if he was still out there, watching. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but it wasn't fear that filled me—it was curiosity.

I sat back on the couch, pulling a blanket around me, and tried to make sense of it all. What had he meant when he said I was a part of something? And why couldn't I stop thinking about him?

As I mulled over the night's events, my phone buzzed again. I grabbed it, half-expecting another cryptic message from that guy who keeps calling me angel, but it was just an email.

I sighed, leaning back, and opened it out of habit. But the moment I read the subject line, my breath caught in my throat:

"We need to talk—before it's too late."

The sender was unknown, the email brief and unsettling.

I stared at the screen, my pulse quickening. Who was this? Another game? Another cryptic clue to keep me tangled in this mess?

Without thinking, I deleted the email, the unease settling deep in my stomach. But the feeling wouldn't go away.

Exhaustion finally began to creep in. I took my sleeping pills, hoping to push all the confusion to the back of my mind. After a long, hot shower, I gave up trying to make sense of it all and let sleep take over.

By 6 a.m., I was already out running. It was my usual routine, but today, everything felt different. Instead of my regular route, I chose a new path—away from the beach, away from any place I might run into him. The guy who kept calling me angel. I didn't even know his name, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. I just wondered if he would come today with his friends again.

I ran faster than usual, trying to shake the thoughts of him from my mind. His face, his eyes, that intense gaze that made me feel like he saw right through me. The frustration bubbled up inside me again. Why was he haunting my thoughts?

I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement. Maybe today, for once, I'd outrun whatever was chasing me.

After six hours...