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3:25pm

 3:25 pm, September 9th

"Dad, how is that NOT creepy? They’re going to KILL me!"

"It's a prank, can't you see that?"

After I had stared at my computer screen for several minutes, dumbfounded dazed and confused, I had ran downstairs and told Dad, who was reclining on the couch.

He seemed unconvinced that something serious might be happening.

"I didn't tell you what they messaged back.” I told him what I had received and he didn’t say anything for a minute.

Then, "Chase, somebody wants to scare you and they're succeeding. Nobody's going to kill you."

“But what if someone really is? Shouldn’t we do something about this?”

He pondered it. “I’m not sure if those messages alone are enough for anything to be done about it.”

“Come on!” Dad seemed to be acting very strange. Why didn’t he see this as real?

“Chase, you’ll be fine. I doubt anything will come from them.”

A frustrated sigh escaped and I walked away, retreating into my room. As much as I didn't want to do it, I pulled out my laptop and opened Facebook once again. I clicked on Unknown and opened up another new message.

"Unknown, why are you doing this? How can I believe you? How do I know you’re not just some dork behind a computer screen?"

Once more I hit send and the message was on its way.

I didn't bother to stick around and see how soon they would reply. Instead I went downstairs and sat on the couch for some TV time. I wanted to clear my head and zone out.

Maybe Dad was right. This was probably nothing and in a few hours it would be dismissed as a not so friendly practical joke or dare.

Dad came over to me and said, "I'm going to run some errands. Your mom is picking up your brother from school, so she'll be back shortly."

"Alright."

The door shut and suddenly it was quiet. The TV was on, but my sudden fearful thoughts drowned it out. An uneasy eeriness filled the room, and it started to scare me. I stood up and didn’t move for a moment, trying to convince myself that nothing was wrong and that I was being paranoid. Nothing was wrong.

But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched, that I was isolated and alone, unprotected and vulnerable.

I went back onto my room.

I crossed over to my window, which was across from my desk, and pulled open the shades, letting some light in. I walked over and pulled the laptop lid open.

One new email.

I hovered the mouse over it for a second, and then opened it.

"Do you believe now?"

What? What did it mean?

I left the screen up and went to sit down on my bed. I collapsed and shut my eyes.

Why would anybody want to do this to me? I mean, what could I have done? And what did “Do you believe now?” mean? Believe what?

What does somebody believe in? Usually a religion, a faith. Or belief in themselves? Belief sometimes comes after an event, such as 9/11. Americans thought that their country was invincible until a homeland attack shattered their beliefs.

But did this have anything to do with what was happening to me? Or was I over analyzing it?

I was thinking too much. It had nothing to do with any of this. It was probably something really simple.

I opened my eyes and walked back over to my laptop, sitting down in my chair again.

“Do you believe now?” the message dared me.

Believe what?

Suddenly I heard a gunshot, and milliseconds later my glass window shattered, followed by the screen of my laptop being yanked away from the keyboard, leaving my laptop in two pieces.  The screen showcased a rippling effect caused by the bullet.

It all happened in one second.

My heart rate sky rocketed, and my hands started to sweat. My legs started to bounce and my knees shook. I dared a look out my window, but obviously didn't see anything.

I heard another sound, this one of an object flying through the air. Before I could think, or much less react, an object crashed through what was left of my window and landed on my rug, surrounded by jagged glass shards. I immediately jumped away and hid my head in my hands.

After a few moments, I realized it was not a bomb. Cautiously walking over, I saw a rock with a piece of paper tied to it. I removed the string, and smoothed the paper. A note.

"You should believe now that I’m not joking. Only 23 hours and 25 minutes remaining. What are you going to do?"