Chapter 4 Shadows of Serena
“Don’t go back there.”
Serena’s voice came from the doorway soft, trembling, the way it always sounded when she was scared but trying to pretend she wasn’t.
Lila blinked at her in confusion. “Serena?”
Her sister stood barefoot on the dorm room floor, red hair tumbling in messy waves over a white dress that looked damp, almost translucent at the hem. The air smelled faintly of wet roses.
“You’re..” Lila’s throat tightened. “You’re dead.”
Serena tilted her head, the corners of her lips twitching as if she’d heard something funny but didn’t get the joke. “Do I look dead?”
The room looked normal. Her desk.The open textbook. The faint yellow glow from her lamp. The hum of the fridge.
Lila couldn’t move. “This isn’t happening.”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Serena said, stepping closer. Her bare feet left faint red stains on the floor, shaped like petals. “You don’t belong here.”
“You told me once,” Lila whispered. “You said if anything happened, I’d know the truth. You said..”
“I was wrong,” Serena interrupted. Her voice wavered. “You won’t find the truth here, Lila. You’ll find him.”
“Who?”
Serena looked at her, eyes glinting like glass. “He sent me roses.”
Lila frowned. “What do you mean, he? Who sent you..”
“The same one who watches you now.”
Her stomach dropped. “You mean Professor Beckett?”
Serena’s mouth twitched. For a second, she smiled but her eyes didn’t match the smile. “You always liked good-looking men, didn’t you? You think kindness means safety. That’s how he fooled me too.”
“Serena, you’re scaring me.”
“Good,” she whispered. “Fear means you’re still alive.”
Something cracked behind Lila. The sound of a lightbulb breaking, it was sharp and quick. She turned toward the lamp, but it still glowed steady. When she turned back, Serena was closer and her breath was cold on Lila’s cheek.
“I tried to tell you before,” she said, almost crying now. “He’s clingy. He’s careful. He waits.”
“Who, Serena?” Lila whispered. “Please, tell me.”
The floor tilted. The walls rippled, like water. The air pressed heavy against her chest.
Serena lifted her hand slowly, and it was shaking. She brushed her fingers against Lila’s cheek. They were freezing. “Don’t trust the one who saves you. He’ll always be the one who hurts you.”
“What are you…?”
A soft click cut her off.
Lila turned her head. The sound came again, it was mechanical and precise.
Then, another click.
A faint red light blinked in the corner of the room.
Her camera. The lens faced her.
Serena smiled faintly, stepping back into the shadows. “He likes to watch.”
And the room went black.
Lila woke up gasping, and clutching her bedsheet.
Her heart hammered so hard it hurt. She looked around, disoriented, breath short, trying to pull the dream apart from reality.
The lamp still glowed. The window rattled softly from the wind. Her books were stacked neatly on the desk.
Everything was normal.
Except.
Her camera.
It wasn’t in her bag where she left it. It was on her desk. Turned on. The lens pointed straight at her bed.
Her breath hitched. “No, no, no.”
She got up, slowly, like any sudden movement might provoke something unseen. The red recording light blinked steady.
Lila reached for it with trembling fingers and pressed stop. The blinking ceased. The silence felt worse than the sound.
Her mind raced. Had she left it recording earlier? Maybe she’d forgotten. Maybe Asher had borrowed it and returned it. Maybe.
Her thumb hit playback.
And three videos played.The first two were short clips from class.The third one was timestamped 3:12 a.m.
She hadn’t been awake then.
She pressed play again.
It was still at first. Then her dorm room appeared. Grainy footage, slightly tilted, framed at the foot of her bed. She was there asleep. The blanket half off, hair tangled, breathing slowly.
Nothing moved.
Then, faintly, something passed across the lens.
A shadow. Tall and human-shaped.
It lingered for a moment, as if leaning closer. Then the screen went black.
Lila’s hand flew to her mouth.
The camera gave a small mechanical sound.
Click.
She dropped it. It hit the floor with a soft thud.
Her pulse roared in her ears. She backed toward the wall, glancing at the door. It was locked. She checked the window. It was closed. And her curtains were drawn.
A sudden vibration made her jump, her phone, lighting up on the nightstand.
Unknown number. 1 new image received.
Her throat went dry. She opened it.
The same stillness from the footage, as she was asleep in bed.
Her stomach lurched.
She dropped the phone, and as it hit the floor, the camera made that sound again.
Click.
The flash blinked, faint and white, though she hadn’t touched it.
“Stop,” she whispered. “Stop, stop, stop.”
The screen flickered to life on its own, showing her reflection in the lens. Wide eyes. Pale face. Fear.
Then the window creaked.
The sound was so soft she thought she imagined it. She turned. The curtain stirred slightly, though there was no wind.
She forced herself to walk toward it, one step at a time. Her knees shook. She reached for the curtain edge and pulled it back.
Nothing outside but the empty courtyard, wet with early dew.
Then her eyes dropped to the windowsill.
There, resting on the cold glass a single rose petal.
Deep red and velvet soft.
Her chest tightened.
She reached out, barely touching it. The color bled faintly onto her fingertip. It was fresh, like it had just been plucked.
She stepped back, trembling.
The room seemed darker now.
Her phone buzzed again. One new message, same unknown number.
She hesitated, then opened it.
Smile for me.The camera clicked again.
And this time, the flash went off bright enough to blind her for a heartbeat.
When her eyes adjusted, she saw something in the mirror across from her bed.
A faint smear like a fingerprint shaped in red.
She leaned closer.It wasn’t a fingerprint.
It was a heart. Drawn in what looked like blood.
Lila stumbled backward, hitting the edge of her desk. The camera slipped off and hit the floor, the lens first.
She stared at the mirror again, her pulse pounding.
The heart was gone.
The glass was clean.
Silence settled over the room again.
Lila stood frozen for a full minute before she moved.
She picked up her phone, deleted the message, and shoved the camera back in her drawer. Her hands shook so badly she could barely close it.
Then she sat on the edge of her bed, breathing hard, whispering to herself.
“It’s not real. It’s not real. Just a dream. I’m overtired. That’s all.”
But even as she said it, she caught a faint whiff of something familiar like floral, sweet, and cloying.
Roses.
And on her nightstand, where she swore there had been only her coffee mug an hour ago, a single new rose petal lay curled by the lamp’s light.
She stared at it, frozen.
Then, from somewhere outside her door a faint, distant click came again.
Like a camera shutter.
Followed by footsteps walking away.
Lila rushes to the door and yanks it open the hallway’s empty, and silent, stretching lo
ng and shadowed. But at the far end, just before the turn, a flash of light blinks once like a reflection from a lens and disappears.
What's happening to her? She thought as she walked towards her bed.