Chapter 10– Sarah
Sarah had tried to bury herself in work, but concentration was a ghost that refused to be caught. The apartment was quiet except for the hum of her laptop fan and the occasional creak of pipes in the walls. Words blurred on her screen, stubbornly refusing to string themselves into sentences.
She had checked her phone three times in the last ten minutes. Still nothing from Emily.
A coil of unease twisted tighter in her chest. She had left Emily’s apartment earlier, but guilt gnawed at her for walking away. Emily had looked so fragile like a woman balancing on the edge of a breaking cliff.
Sarah tapped her phone awake again. Midnight glared at her from the screen. Stop it. She’s probably asleep, she told herself, but it didn’t convince her. She opened her messages anyway and typed quickly.
Hey, are you okay?
Delivered. Not read.
She waited. A minute. Two. Five. Still no reply.
Her heart drummed harder with every second. What if she was right? What if Alex ....Sarah cut the thought off before it could root itself, but the unease refused to leave. Emily had looked her in the eyes tonight, her voice shaking, and said she thought Alex was the Rose Killer. Sarah had tried to be rational, to soothe her, but the memory of Emily’s fear clawed back now, sharper, more convincing.
She tried calling. Straight to voicemail.
Another try. Same result.
Sarah shoved her chair back, grabbed her coat, and cursed under her breath. She wasn’t going to sit here while her best friend suffered alone.
\~~~
The drive to Emily’s building was a blur. Streetlights streaked across her windshield like watchful eyes, each one making her grip the wheel tighter. Her mind kept spinning scenarios Emily crying alone, Emily asleep and missing her calls, Emily hurt until the worst possibility rose like bile: Emily not answering because she couldn’t.
Sarah pressed harder on the gas.
When she pulled into the lot, unease sharpened into dread. The building loomed silent, windows dark, the kind of silence that felt unnatural.
She hurried to the entrance, her shoes striking the concrete with too much echo. The lobby door clicked open under her hand, and she stepped inside.
The hairs on her arms rose immediately. Something was wrong. The air smelled faintly metallic.
She climbed the stairs quickly, her pulse accelerating with each step. Her hand trembled when she reached Emily’s floor, and then
Her stomach dropped.
Emily’s apartment door stood wide open.
“Emily?” Sarah’s voice echoed down the corridor. Nothing answered.
Her throat tightened. She pushed the door open farther and stepped inside, the scent of iron stronger now.
“Emily, it’s me,” she called again, trying to steady her voice.
Silence swallowed her words.
The living room was in disarray pillows askew, a mug shattered near the coffee table. Sarah’s breath caught when her gaze dropped lower.
A small, glistening drop of red on the rug.
Blood.
Her body went rigid. A thousand thoughts crowded her head at once injury, attack, Alex’s face overlaid with the headlines about the Rose Killer. She forced her legs to move, following the faint trail. Tiny droplets, irregular but unmistakable, leading toward the hallway.
“Emily?” Her voice cracked this time. Fear pressed against her ribs like a cage.
The trail curved past the bathroom, toward the door at the far end. She followed it, her hands shaking so hard she nearly dropped her phone.
The smears grew darker, thicker, near the elevator. Sarah’s breath hitched as she stared at the steel doors.
The button panel was smeared too. Someone had pressed it with bloodied fingers.
Her stomach turned, bile rising. Emily’s face flashed in her mind, pale and terrified, whispering about Alex.
Sarah jabbed the button. The elevator groaned, and when the doors slid open, a single rusty streak cut across the floor, pointing downward.
Her chest tightened. Emily had gone down.
Sarah stepped inside, her pulse hammering. The doors closed, plunging her into silence broken only by the hum of machinery. She clenched her phone in her hand, fighting the tremor in her fingers. Every second felt stretched, elongated.
When the elevator finally reached the ground floor, the doors parted with a chime far too cheerful for the weight in her chest.
The blood trail continued.
Tiny drops, then larger streaks, as though someone had stumbled. Sarah followed, her steps quick and shaky, her eyes darting to every shadow. The trail led to the exit.
She pushed the heavy door open, and cold night air hit her face.
The alley stretched out before her, dim and narrow. The trail of red glistened faintly against the pavement, illuminated by a lone flickering light. Sarah’s chest constricted as she stepped into the night, scanning frantically.
Then she saw movement.
At first, just a blur. A figure running.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
“Emily?” Her voice broke as it echoed through the alley.
The figure stumbled into the glow of the streetlamp, and Sarah’s breath caught. It was her. Emily.
Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, streaked with tears. Her eyes were wide with raw terror, darting over her shoulder as she ran.
Sarah’s relief was brief, swallowed instantly by fear. Emily’s phone buzzed in her hand. She snatched it up, glanced at the screen then froze.
Horror twisted across her features, her mouth parting soundlessly.
Sarah’s heart pounded as she called again, louder this time, desperate.
“Emily!”
Emily’s head jerked at the sound, her eyes meeting Sarah’s across the alley. Her face filled with relief.