Fatal Trouble | Y.Jw

| 17 |

"Should we say for next time we read the next five chapters?" the self-appointed leader of the book club questioned.

Jiyeon glanced down at the book in her hands, noticing her bookmark sticking out near the back of the book. She was already at least sixteen chapters ahead of where they had read. No objections were made and the meeting was dismissed. 

Quickly Jiyeon threw her book down into her bag and wandered out of the university along with the other nine members. 

As fast as she could she unlocked her bike and threw her bag up into her basket in front and almost jumped up into the saddle and pedalling as fast as she could through the cold night air. 

Continuously she kept having to pull one end of her scarf back in front after it blew over her shoulder due to the wind. Time and time again she would quietly curse out the fact that she didn't tie her scarf before biking home.

The lamp post outside her apartment building seemed to have a loose connection. It would flicker every once in a while, but it did not stop Jiyeon from parking her bike in the back alley as she usually did. She had learned over time that there was the least chance of it being stolen if it stood in the back alley. Which is impressive, seeing as no one would notice you cutting up a bicycle lock in that alley.

The moment she stepped foot on the street, something seemed off. Abruptly, she turned around and looked back down the alley, not seeing a thing in the darkness. Slowly, her eyebrows pressed together into a frown before she hurried over and unlocked the front door, closing it behind her.

Already then she should've sensed it. Something was wrong. 

Two floors up and in front of her door she saw the sign that something was clearly wrong. It was a sign screaming right into her face. On the middle of her door, a pine tree tilted exactly 45 degrees was painted. 

Even though her keys were already out of her pockets and almost into the lock she quickly took a step back, almost stepping down a step on the stairs and tumbling down.

Without a second thought, she turned on her heel and rushed down the stairs and straight out onto the street. Clutching her bag close to her chest she set into a run down towards the police station, not thinking twice about taking her bike instead, by any chance the person who had painted her door hadn't heard her almost being home and she would be a few steps ahead.

...And she didn't want to risk anyone hiding in the alley and waiting.