The Whistler In The Night

Chapter 28

I was in the dark, surrounded by silence, when I heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. His whistle, that eerie, drawn-out tune, filled the air.

"No... no, not again," I muttered to myself, but it was useless. The whistle grew louder, piercing through the darkness. And then, I saw him—L—standing just a few feet away, wearing the same clothes, the same twisted smile etched across his face. Nothing about him had changed. He was back.

He held a cake, the faint flicker of candles lighting up his face in the suffocating darkness. He was whistling the "Happy Birthday" song, a slow, mocking version that sent chills down my spine. My heart pounded in my chest as he stepped closer, each whistle echoing around me like a curse.

Then, without warning, he threw the cake to the floor. It splattered everywhere, but something was wrong—it wasn't just frosting that spilled from the cake. It was blood. Thick, red blood dripped from the ruined cake, pooling at my feet. His laugh echoed in the darkness, loud and cruel, as he leaned in close to me, his breath cold against my skin.

"Happy birthday, Evan," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. Then he turned away, still whistling that haunting tune, and disappeared into the shadows.

I jolted awake, drenched in sweat, my heart racing as if it were about to burst out of my chest. I was back in bed, next to Scarlet, her steady breathing calming me a little. I took a deep breath, my hands shaking as I tried to steady myself.

"He's not back... He's not back," I whispered to myself, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "It's just a fucking nightmare."

But even as I told myself that, the vividness of the dream, the way his voice lingered in my mind, left a knot of unease in my stomach. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, the bright screen cutting through the dim light of the early morning. It was 7 a.m.

I needed to clear my head. Quietly, I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Scarlet. She was still curled up under the covers, peaceful and unaware of the chaos going on inside my mind. I threw on my gym clothes, grabbed my sneakers, and quietly left the room.

When I stepped into the living room, Mrs. Maeve was already up, sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in her hands. She glanced up at me, smiling warmly.

"Good morning, Evan," she said.

"Morning, Mrs. Maeve," I replied, trying to sound normal, though my mind was still reeling from the nightmare. "I'm heading to the gym. I'll be back soon."

"Heading out early, huh?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Just... needed to clear my head."

She looked at me, her eyes soft with concern. "Take care of yourself, Evan. And don't push yourself too hard."

"Thanks," I said, forcing a small smile. "I'll be fine."

With that, I left the house, the cold morning air hitting my face like a slap. The gym wasn't far, but the entire walk there, all I could think about was the nightmare. The way L had appeared, the blood dripping from the cake... It felt too real. But it wasn't real. It couldn't be.

As I reached the gym and started my workout, the repetitive motions of lifting weights and running on the treadmill distracted me from the lingering fear. I needed this—to focus on something else, anything else, to remind myself that L was gone, that the nightmare was just that—a nightmare.

But deep down, a part of me couldn't help but wonder... What if it wasn't just a dream? What if he was coming back?