Chapter 19 – The Visit

Chapter 19 – The Visit
The scream yanked Sarah from her dreams.

She sat upright, heart slamming against her ribs, the sheets tangled around her legs. For a moment she could not tell if she was still dreaming. The apartment was dark, hushed except for the distant hum of traffic.

Then she saw Emily standing at the threshold of her bedroom, trembling, her eyes wide with terror.

“He was there,” Emily whispered, her voice broken. “In the doorway. Just standing there.”

Sarah rubbed her face, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. “What? Who was there?”

“Alex,” Emily said immediately, the name sharp as glass. “It had to be him. He followed me here. He is inside.”

Sarah swung her legs off the bed, forcing herself to breathe. Alex? That did not make sense. But the way Emily shook, the desperation in her eyes it was not something Sarah could ignore.

“Okay,” Sarah said carefully, rising to her feet. “Let us check the apartment together, all right?”

Emily nodded, though her hands clenched tightly around the hem of her shirt, white-knuckled.

Sarah grabbed the baseball bat she kept by her bed– a relic from college days when she had lived alone in a rougher neighborhood. Sarah moved into the hall. Emily shadowed her every step.

The apartment was silent.... too quiet. Each creak of the floorboards under their weight felt amplified.

Sarah checked the front door first. The chain was still latched. The deadbolt untouched.

“Look,” she said gently, touching the locks so Emily could see. “No one came in this way.”

Emily’s lips trembled. “He is not stupid... He would have found another way.”

Sarah moved through the rooms one by one checking the kitchen, the bathroom, even the closet. Empty. Windows locked. No sign of a break-in.

Finally, she turned to Emily. “No one is here.”

But Emily shook her head violently, tears streaking her face. “You did not see him. I did. He was there, Sarah. Right there.” She pointed to the spot outside the bedroom door, her hand shaking so badly she could barely hold it steady.

Sarah hesitated. She wanted to tell Emily it was just her imagination. A dream feeding into paranoia. But something in Emily’s eyes stopped her the raw, unfiltered terror.

“All right,” Sarah said softly. “Let us go back to bed. We will figure this out in the morning.”

\---

But Sarah did not sleep.

Long after Emily had finally collapsed into uneasy slumber on the couch, Sarah sat awake in her bed, staring at the dark ceiling. Her thoughts twisted in restless loops.

Emily was unraveling. She could see it, the constant paranoia, the way she second-guessed every sound, every shadow. But what unsettled Sarah more was the growing conviction that Emily was not entirely wrong.

The email and the rose that she found in her car still burned in her mind.

She had not told Emily how much it shook her. She did not want to add fuel to the fire. But she could not forget it either.

She rolled over, her eyes heavy, and finally drifted into a shallow, uneasy sleep.

\---

Morning light bled pale and cold through the curtains. Sarah woke with a dull ache in her temples, dragging herself out of bed. Emily was already up, pacing the living room, muttering under her breath.

“Coffee?” Sarah offered, trying for normalcy.

Emily only shook her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair disheveled. She looked like she had not closed her eyes all night.

Sarah brewed the coffee anyway, the warm aroma filling the kitchen. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt normal.

Then she went back to her bedroom.

And stopped cold.

On her pillow lay a single red rose.

Perfect and fresh. Its petals dark and lush, a drop of dew still clinging to one edge.

Sarah’s blood ran cold.

Her gaze snapped to the locked window. To the bolted door. To the empty room she had checked herself.

The rose had not been there last night. She was sure of it.

Her hands trembled as she reached for it. The stem was smooth, the thorns neatly trimmed. Whoever had placed it knew exactly what they were doing.

“Sarah?”

Emily’s voice came from the hall, hesitant. Sarah nearly dropped the rose, whipping around to face her.

Emily’s eyes widened when she saw it. “Where did you get that?”

Sarah swallowed, her throat dry. “It was… on my pillow.”

Emily’s breath caught. “It is him.... He was here.... I told you.... I told you.”

Sarah forced herself to steady her hands, to calm her breathing. She did not want to feed Emily’s hysteria. But the weight of the rose in her hand was undeniable proof.

Someone had really been here.

The locks meant nothing. The checked windows meant nothing. Someone had slipped past them both, unseen, unheard, and left behind a message.

Sarah looked down at the rose again, and for the first time since this nightmare began, she felt her own certainty fracture.

Maybe Emily was not paranoid after all.​