That sentence had gone through my head on repeat today as I tried to understand what he meant. I had tried looking up a Melody on the contacts before giving the phone to lost and found. There wasn't one. Not even a blank contact slot for one. I couldn't help but wonder if it was her phone and she deleted as much as she could before leaving it on the metro.
If it was hers, I could understand why she'd try to lose it. Having someone follow me around would be enough to try to get rid of it. Hell, one phone call from him and I had already gotten rid of it, although he made it seem as if Melody had been dealing with it for a long time.
“I was looking for Melody, but she seems to have given you over to me in her escape.”
What did she do to escape? If he knew where I lived because of the phone, then there must have been a tracker in it. He found me too quickly for there not to be one. So he should know where she lived, too.
She’d likely dumped her phone so he couldn't go after her. She passed her problem on to someone else and ran as fast as she could. Did she move? Did she run away? Is that how she escaped him? Not that I could blame her. If she was dealing with his calls for even a month, I don't know how she could have managed.
“Soon you'll figure out why she was so desperate to get rid of the phone she once wanted so badly.”
If she wanted a smartphone so badly, did she take it when she found it? How had it become hers? Did he find her and then track her phone, or had he found her the same way he found me? I shook my head. So many questions.
“It's not my problem anymore,” I said aloud and headed upstairs to settle in for the night. My routine flew by, from getting dinner out of the crockpot and doing minor cleaning I had skipped this morning when rushing to the metro, then into the shower, the warm water calming my nerves and relaxing me mentally. I came out of the shower revitalized and ready to forget about the creepy phone call, at least until the doorbell rang. I dried off as quickly as I could and pulled on my robe, suddenly cautious and nervous all over again.
“I'm coming!” I called when the doorbell rang again.
The silk robe clung to the water droplets on my skin as I raced down the stairs, fear sitting in the pit of my stomach like a rock. I tiptoed to the front door so whoever it was wouldn't hear me then peeked through the peephole. I didn't see anyone there. I couldn't see anyone from my house to the street. Who would ring the door and leave like that? I looked around, hoping to see someone, but no one ever came into view.
What if it was him? What if he came back?
A chill radiated through my body. No, no. It was daylight. This was a nice neighborhood. There was nothing creepy going on.
I'm just overreacting.
I crept toward the window to peek out just to be sure there wasn't anyone outside. Once again, I didn't see anyone. No cars passed, no one was walking their dog, there was nothing. My heart raced with panic but slowed when I caught a sliver of brown packaging on my door step. Oh, I thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Just a package.
I shut the drapes and clutched my robe tightly before I opened the door. The dimming sunlight casted an eerie shadow over my doorstep. I picked up the package and glanced around to see if anyone was about, but no one was. Usually Dave was out watering his garden or Mrs. White was knitting on her porch, but neither was out. I leaned forward slightly to look further down the street, where the UPS truck was heading back toward the main road.
“I don't remember ordering anything,” I muttered. The truck turned onto the main road, disappearing from view. I couldn't believe I was acting this crazy. It was just some stupid joke by whoever owned the phone. They wanted me to return it; I did, so it's all over. I shut the door and locked it. I couldn't believe I was so freaked out over nothing. I put the package on the dining room table and ripped the tape off the sides.
I laughed at myself. “It's just UPS. Yet here I am, acting as if it's a murderer coming to kill…” My sentence trailed off when I caught sight of the pink phone sitting at the bottom of the box.
How the hell…?
Chapter Three
I spent a week trying to get rid of the phone. I took it to different lost and founds, threw it in the trash, and at one point tossed it into the road hoping it would get crushed. But nothing worked. Somehow the phone always ended up on my doorstep again, waiting for me. At this point, I was driving further and further to dump it, but each time, it came back somehow. The last hope would be throwing it into a river, but something told me it would still return.
I thought I could keep it with me and ignore it, but I couldn’t. When I kept it with me, an undisclosed caller would call me at all hours of the day. I'd set it to silent, then return to countless messages and voicemails, none of which I ever answered, but that didn't stop him from trying. Even my nights were plagued by the constant buzzing and ringing. I would shut it off, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. It would turn back on, and then instantly I'd be bombarded with the notifications of calls and texts. It was never ending. No matter what I did, I couldn’t escape. I felt totally and completely trapped in his game.
In a last-ditch effort, I took the phone on the metro. Just as Melody had done, I left it on the floor for someone else to find and then never looked back. I felt bad passing on my misfortune to someone else, but now I understood why Melody had done the same. She just wanted to escape, and that's something I could agree on now.
It’s just to escape, even just for a little bit, I thought as I left it behind. I hoped no one found it and kept it. All I wanted was for them to give it to a lost and found, then let it vanish.
It worked for a few days, two to be exact. I thought I had gotten rid of it, of him, of the whole strange situation, but when I came home to it laying at my doorstep, I knew I'd never get away. How did Melody get away? What did she do? Do I need to do the same? Because if I didn’t figure out how to get this to go away, I’d hunt her down if I had to. I don’t know how I’d even begin looking for her without any information, but I’d find her and give her the phone back. She could do whatever she wanted with it after that, but I was never picking up another phone. I wouldn’t even risk it if I saw the person drop it. I wanted this out of my life, and I never wanted to deal with it again. Hell, I’d move if I had to. I’d do anything to end this.
I reached down to pick up the phone, and just as I wrapped my hand around it, it buzzed, and a new text flashed across the screen. Standing up, I glanced around but didn't see anything or anyone.
There's no way he timed it that well...he has to be here, I thought as I turned around, taking a closer look at my surroundings. When I didn't see anyone other than a neighbor walking their dog, I plucked the phone from the ground and ran inside. I made a point to slam and deadbolt the door, but whether for his sake or mine, I wasn't sure.
For a while, I stood at the door, unsure of what to do. Clearly he could see me, but just how far was his ability? Could he hear me, see inside my house, or follow me to work? Was there anywhere I was safe? The phone buzzed again in my hand as if answering my question. He knew I hadn’t read it yet. After some deliberation about if I should look at the message or not, I opened it.
Unknown Number: If you try to get rid of the phone again…
Unknown Number: You’ll be next…
The three dots flashed across the screen, anxiety gnawing at my gut. How did he know I opened it? How could he possibly know? Each second that ticked by seemed like a lifetime, and then time stopped when the photo loaded on the screen. A dark blond-haired woman on the floor of some apartment, blood covering her chest and pooling on the floor around her body. The longer I looked at the photo, the more apparent it became she was murdered and then posed for this photo.
“Oh my God.” My hand instinctively went over my mouth. Without meaning to, I could feel this image being burned into my mind, the position of her face and how she looked directly into the camera with her lifeless blue eyes, blood streaming down her features. Though the thing that resonated with me
the most was the fear that still hung in her eyes. What happened to her just before she was attacked? What was the last thing she saw to have that look etched into her face?
The thing of her nightmares. The stalker lurking in the shadows. The face behind our torture. My thoughts spun like a whirlwind as the three dots came across the screen again. This time, I didn't have to wait as long.
Unknown Number: Now that I have your attention...
My breath caught in my throat. What did this mean? Why was he doing this? Why show me this? This would be enough to go to the police. I could get help. The police could find out who this person was and arrest him. That would end all of this. I’d finally be free. Why send me this and ruin it for himself?
Unknown Number: Answer the phone.
Tilting my head to the side, I tried to figure out what that meant. Did he mean the texts? What did he want me to do? The phone stared buzzing in my hand. I panicked, tossing the phone up slightly and juggling it momentarily.
What do I do? What do I do?
I held the phone tightly in my hand, staring at the unknown number calling me and fighting the panic rising in my chest again. Eventually, the phone stopped ringing and a missed call indicator came over the screen. I let out a sigh of relief before the phone’s screen lit up again and indicated another message was being typed. I wanted to throw the phone across the room, but I couldn't look away from the dots moving across the screen.
Unknown Number: Answer or else I’ll do the same to you.
This time when the phone rang, I reluctantly answered. I didn’t want to find out if he was serious or not. After everything so far, I was sure he was serious. I just didn’t understand why. I didn’t say anything when I picked up, and I didn’t have to. He jumped into our conversation the second he realized I picked up and he had my attention again.
“You see, Lindsey, Melody tried the same thing you’re doing right now. She tried to get rid of the phone, she even tried to move, but look where that got her. Dead on her kitchen floor. Let me say that again so you understand…she tried to leave the phone behind, and she almost got away, but she didn't. I found her, and once I was done with her, I needed a new distraction. That's where you come in.”
I shuddered as the last sentence repeated in my mind. His voice sounded cold and detached, as if I was just a plaything, not a person. How could someone think like that? Is that why he followed me and seemed determined to keep me around? Was I just a toy to play with to pass time or prey for something much larger than I thought?
“I know where you live, Lindsey. I know how this works. You think that getting the cops will help, but it will only make this much worse for you. They'll try to find my number, but it won't come up. They'll have more patrols around your house, but I'll still find a way in. I always do. That means I'll still know where you are, know what you are doing, and if you try to run away, I won't be able to stop what happens next. Do I make myself clear?”
I choked on my words, fear taking over and causing me to shake. I hung up and tossed the phone away from me. It plopped onto the sofa and instantly started vibrating again. What do I do now? It’s gotten this far; what do I do to stop it? What can I do? Telling the police was the first thing that came to mind, but I wasn’t sure they’d believe me. Would anyone?
Who's going to believe me? Who can help me get through this?
No one…
Chapter Four
I went to the police later that night despite his warning, but he was right. I was told they couldn't do anything about it until there was evidence of a murder or harassment. The photo, the rest of the messages, and the call logs had somehow vanished from the phone. I became a paranoid laughingstock. They told me if I was getting harassed, they couldn't do anything except add patrols, though nothing could formally be done until there was a clear case, and I didn't have any proof of being stalked. What would make a clearer case? Why would I come to them if I wasn’t terrified? Still, they claimed they couldn’t do anything. They told me to block the number and the person would give up. They didn't understand that he would never give up. That much was clear.
He had tracked down Melody, killed her, and now he was after me. He wouldn’t give up unless I could find a way to escape. I had to try before I ended up like Melody. There has to be a way to get away because I couldn’t handle this anymore. Even as I stepped back into my house for the night, it felt ominous and unnerving. Every shadow seemed to lunge toward me, have its own breath, and follow me throughout the house. As I forced myself to sleep at night, I found minimal solace in locking the door and checking through my closet and under my bed for someone I wasn't sure even existed. He called, texted, and bothered me, but it was possible this could still be a joke, right? How else would that photo vanish? How else would the police allow this? It had to be a joke. That's the only explanation. There's no other way to explain it.
If it wasn’t a joke, then that meant he was in my house. He had used the phone and deleted everything while I was distracted. I didn’t want to think that was possible, but the thought would creep back in every time I heard a sound that didn’t belong. I shook that thought from my mind and tried to think of what to do next. I could go to my mother’s, but then I’d bring this man to her. What would he do to her? I winced at the thought and banished it in the same moment. I couldn’t bring this to other people. I didn't know how to explain it to anyone, and this was too strange to begin explaining to my family.
It only kept getting stranger as days passed. Especially when I went through the phone again the next day and saw it was filled with photos but this time of me. There were photos of me sleeping, pictures of me on the metro and at work. There were photos of me everywhere, including at the store and at friends’ houses. And it didn't stop there. I started receiving gifts. Small ones at first, just notes, leading up to a calico cat, which was sitting at my front door when I got home from work. It had remained in its cage after I took it inside and looked at the note. All it said was,
“You said you wanted a cat to come home to.”
Even as I thought of the note again, a chill ran down my spine. He always left notes like that. Letting me know he's watching. I had only said I wanted a cat when I was home alone, never to anyone else. There's no way he could know…unless he was listening.
I had shuddered at the thought, hoping I was being dramatic but knowing I wasn't. I had thrown out all the other gifts, but I couldn't throw out a kitten. Even if its name was Melody. And I didn't pick the name. It came with a collar. I had originally thought it was someone’s pet that he left me. But my contact information was on the tag, along with the name. No matter what I did or where I was, I never escaped him. Everything he did was to torment me, especially when I was home alone. The soft creaking throughout the house, clothes falling onto the floor, things getting knocked over. I thought it was Melody getting used to the house, but what if it wasn’t? Could it be him? I trembled at the thought as I collected the cat and took her up to my room.
Every night, I had been hearing strange things in the house while I tried to sleep. I couldn’t be sure if it was actual footsteps or just the house settling. Either way, I didn’t like it. I couldn’t feel comfortable in my own house. I had to lock myself in my room, leave the phone downstairs and on silent while praying it didn’t come back on, and have Melody whining to get out of my room all night, but it was the only way, and sometimes that didn’t even work. Tonight was one of those nights.
The phone buzzed loudly through the house, calling to me from downstairs on the table. I pulled the sheets up over my head and forced my eyes closed. Melody ran to the door, clawing and crying to be let out. She wanted to see what was making the sound, but I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to deal with this sick joke anymore.
Please stop...I just want to sleep. I just want this to be over, I begged silently.
Eventually, the phone stopped, and Melody gave up trying to get out, but then I heard it. Footsteps, echoing downstairs an
d moving through the house. I held my breath, straining to listen.
I tried to convince myself it was nothing, but I couldn't ignore the creaking and the clear sound of heel to toe traveling through my house and eventually up the stairs. I froze in my bed as the footsteps got closer and closer. My body tensed as the steps came to a stop outside my room. Forcing myself to look, I leaned over in my bed and bit back a scream when I saw the shadow block the light under the door. My heart raced as the shadow paced back and forth, but when the knob shook from someone testing it, I couldn't handle it anymore.
I reached for my BlackBerry and called 9-1-1. As I dialed, whoever it was tried harder to get into the room. They eventually tried to break down the door to open it. The wooden frame cracked and threated to break in half. In a panic, I waited for anyone to answer.
Why was this taking an eternity? On TV, they always answered right away.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” a man asked over the phone in a calm tone that irritated the hell out of me.
“Someone is in my house! They’re trying to get into my bedroom! Please send someone!” Wooden splinters washed over my skin as part of the door frame started to break. I looked for Melody, but she must have dove under the bed for protection and left me to fend for myself.
“Ma'am, tell me your name and where you are. I'll send someone there immediately.”
“I'm Lindsey Conway. I live at 6754 Vestal Street. Please send someone right away!” I screamed as another body slam sent the door slightly ajar. A hand reached in for the handle, and I stared in shock just before the door pushed them back. A slew of curse words met my ears before the emergency responder came back to me.
13 Night Terrors Page 38
