I didn't stop running until my foot caught on something buried in the dirt and I crashed to my knees hard enough for pain to flare up my legs. "Ugh!" I groaned through clenched teeth, the sting sharp and immediate. Gravel bit into my skin, but I barely noticed it over the chaos thundering in my chest.
My breath came in ragged, broken gasps, each inhale thinner than the last, as if the night itself was squeezing the air out of me. I could feel eyes on my back, heavy, invisible, unblinking. The sensation crawled beneath my skin like cold fingers. Slowly, almost against my will, I turned my head to look over my shoulder.
Nothing... Not a sound.... Not a shadow moving.... Just the dark, quiet stretch of pavement staring back at me like it was holding a secret.
My pulse didn't ease. If anything, the emptiness made it worse. When headlights appeared in the distance, I lurched to my feet, forcing my unsteady legs to move. A taxi. I stumbled into the road and threw my arm up, desperation overriding the pain in my knees. The car screeched slightly as it slowed, and I yanked the door open before the vehicle had fully stopped, collapsing into the back seat as though the darkness outside might pull me out again if I didn't move fast enough.
Being in a taxi with a stranger felt safer than standing alone in my own neighborhood. That realization alone made bile rise in my throat. "Please take me to the nearest vet clinic," I said, voice brittle and breathless.
In the rearview mirror, the driver's brows pulled together. He knew that clinic was close, too close to justify a ride, but he must've heard something in my tone, seen something in the way I gripped the seat, because he said nothing and pulled away from the curb.
The streets were nearly deserted, bathed in the dim orange glow of malfunctioning streetlights. The taxi cut through the silence like a blade, its headlights carving out a narrow, trembling path through the dark. The city didn't feel like my city anymore. It felt suspended, muted, hollow, stripped of warmth and sound. As though everything human had retreated, leaving only remnants behind.
I clutched my jacket tighter around myself, fingers locked so tightly the blood drained from them. The leather was cold beneath my nails, but it was something I could hold onto, something real. My mind churned violently, refusing to slow down, every heartbeat pounding questions into my skull.
How did he get that picture? Who the hell was he? What did he want from me? The same frustrating questions again.
And I feel like he was still watching even when I'm inside the texi.
Every corner of the neighborhood looked different from usual. The alleys, usually dull and forgettable, seemed to stretch into bottomless pits, swallowing light and breathing menace. Even the flickering streetlights, weak and inconsistent, cast shadows that moved as if they were alive, watching, waiting, whispering. My pulse thudded against my ribs so violently it hurt, every beat echoing the terror that had rooted itself deep in my chest. Jojo.
The thought of him, tiny, trusting, completely defenseless, being in someone else's grasp made the fear mutate into something razor-sharp and suffocating. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, as if the thin layer of fabric could protect not just me, but him too.
Then another message came, his words slithered into my mind, slicing straight through the frantic chaos of my thoughts.
Calm.. Too calm. Not the tone of someone startled or reactive, but of someone in control. Someone watching.
Message
"I didn't do anything to him. Why are you scared? You should not leave home at this late hour. If you were worried, you could have asked me."
The words felt like a cold hand pressing against the back of my neck. My spine stiffened, my breath stalled, and for one terrifying second, I couldn't move. My throat closed up as if invisible fingers were wrapped around it. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to demand answers, but my body betrayed me. All I could hear was the pounding in my ears, loud and wet and frantic.
Danger. Every instinct I had screamed the word over and over, a primal, guttural alarm. Yet, even through the panic, Jojo's name clung to me like a lifeline. My little companion. My responsibility. My heart. I couldn't fall apart. I couldn't afford to.
So I said nothing. Silence was the only thing I could control.
The taxi rolled through the sleeping streets at a crawl, its engine rumbling low, a soft, constant hum that smoothed the jagged edges of my terror, if only slightly. The world outside the windows was a blur of darkness, empty sidewalks, and the occasional flicker of a dying streetlamp. The city wasn't dead, but it wasn't alive either. It felt… suspended. As though it, too, was listening. Watching.
Time warped on the way there. Each second felt stretched thin, brittle, threatening to snap. Finally, the taxi turned the corner, and the sight of the familiar building slammed into me. Relief didn't arrive gently, it crashed, unhinged and violent, nearly knocking the strength from my legs. I barely remembered opening the door. My hands moved on instinct, my feet stumbling across the pavement like they no longer belonged to me.
And then, Jojo.
There he was. Sitting comfortably, tail thumping lazily against the floor, little jaws working on a treat with all the serenity in the world. Safe. Unbothered. Blissfully unaware that my night had turned into a waking nightmare. The sight of him almost made me dizzy. Relief, fear, and leftover panic twisted together until my chest ached.
"Venisa? What are you doing here? Did you forget something?"
James. His voice didn't just sound familiar, it cut through the panic like warm light seeping into a frozen room. It had always carried a calmness that steadied me even when I didn't realize I needed it. For a moment, I almost broke. The truth trembled at the back of my throat, the stranger, the messages, the possibility of being watched even now, but something stopped me.
Dragging James into this would only widen the target. Jojo might have been spared tonight, but what about tomorrow? What about James? Anyone close to me could become part of this twisted game.
"I… I was just missing Jojo," I managed to say. My voice sounded distant and small, like it didn't belong to me. "Can I bring him back with me?"
James let out a gentle breath as he crouched beside Jojo, fingers running through soft fur with the same easy care he always had. "Don't worry. He'll be fine after a few days. He still needs care, and it's gonna take some time." His reassurance shouldn't have felt powerful, but somehow, it did. His tone was steady, grounded, so normal that for a split second I could pretend I hadn't spent the night running from shadows and messages that felt like threats wrapped in silk.
But deep inside, the fear didn't leave.
It only waited.
I forced myself to nod, though my chest still felt painfully tight, as if invisible hands were pressing against my ribs. Panic clung to me like smoke, sinking into every breath, every thought. My voice came out uneven when I finally managed to speak.
"Did anyone else come into your clinic after I left?" I asked, doing everything in my power to sound casual. I didn't dare mention the messages, the picture, the words that had crawled into my head like ice.
James frowned, confusion etched across his features, and slowly shook his head. "No, no one came. Why?"
His curiosity scraped against my nerves. The way he looked at me, concerned, puzzled, made it clear he found my behavior off, unusual even for me. I forced a smile that felt stiff and unnatural, shaking my head in what I hoped passed as nonchalance.
"Nothing, I was just… just curious if you get patients this late."
He seemed to relax a little, the tension in his brow easing as he offered a small smile in return before stepping back to his desk to finish whatever he'd been working on.
"I don't usually get any patients this late," he said, his tone turning thoughtful. "But I try to stay at the clinic just in case someone needs care. We don't have many veterinarians in this area except me and Justin. You know he close his clinic earlier than me."
His voice faded into the background as I crouched beside Jojo, my knees almost giving out beneath me. I reached out and gently brushed my fingers through his fur, my touch trembling. He looked up briefly, then returned to his treat, unaware of the storm I had barely outrun.
"Please… take care of him," I whispered, and the words cracked on the way out. It wasn't just a request, it was a plea.
James straightened, his expression soft but firm. That same steady smile settled on his face, the one that had always made him seem unshakeable. "I will. You don't have to worry," he said quietly, and for a moment, it felt like he was anchoring both Jojo and me at once. His gaze didn't waver, and something about that steadiness gave me just enough strength to breathe.
A war raged silently inside me. Was it wrong to take Jojo back with me when he still needed care? Would he be scared if I wasn't there? But James was here, James, who had always been dependable, who had known me since high school, I trust him more than I trust Dr. Justin who had been my boyfriend's friend long before adulthood pulled us in different directions. If there was one person I could trust to keep Jojo safe, it was him.
I rose slowly, my legs weak and unsteady, every muscle still wired with adrenaline. Exhaustion coiled around my bones, but my mind wouldn't stop racing. Each step away from the building felt detached from reality, like I was walking through thick fog. My fingers lingered on the cool metal of the gate, unwilling to let go, but eventually, I forced myself to turn.
The taxi was still there, headlights carving through the silence like twin blades. For a moment, I wondered if the driver had sensed something in my panic earlier, something raw enough to make him wait instead of driving off. As though even he knew the night wasn't done with me yet.
I climbed inside and sank into the back seat, the breath leaving me in a shaky exhale I didn't realize I'd been holding. Only when the engine rumbled to life and the city began to drift past the windows did the true weight of everything come crashing down. My hands, still curled into aching fists, slowly loosened against my thighs. A shiver ran through me, not from the night air, but from the aftertaste of fear that still clung stubbornly to my skin.
Jojo was safe.
That thought flickered in my mind like a fragile light, but it wasn't enough to quiet the dread burrowed deep beneath my ribs. The streets outside were dark and quiet, but every passing shadow pressed against the glass like a threat waiting to take shape. Someone had crossed a boundary I didn't even know could be crossed. Someone had stepped into my life without permission, seen what was mine, touched what I loved, and made me dance to their tune.
My fingertips brushed against the window absentmindedly, trailing over the cold surface as my thoughts spiraled back to the messages, the unknown number, the picture that had ripped apart the illusion of safety I thought I still had. That wasn't a warning. It was proof, proof that whoever he was, he could reach in any moment he pleased.
I closed my eyes for just a heartbeat, letting the steady hum of the taxi try to soothe the frayed, exposed edges of my mind. But the fear wouldn't dissolve. It clung, patient and deliberate, reminding me with every breath that someone had already taken control, if only for a few hours, and I still had no idea who they were.
Or what they were planning next.
The city blurred past in fractured streaks of artificial light, every passing glow slicing the darkness like a warning. Buildings, trees, and empty sidewalks smeared into one long, unsettling panorama outside the window. For the first time, I truly felt how exposed I'd been, how easy it was to be hunted without ever seeing the eyes tracking you.
The realization slid down my spine like ice. I wasn't just scared for myself, I was responsible for someone who couldn't speak, couldn't defend himself, someone whose safety now dangled on strings I couldn't see. I had no way to predict the stranger's next move, no idea when or how the next message would come. And the most terrifying part was the quiet, suffocating certainty that tonight had only been a warning.
I forced a slow breath past the tightness in my throat, trying to let the tension bleed from my aching shoulders. But the image wouldn't leave me alone, the photo of Jojo, small and unsuspecting, staring at the camera with those innocent, trusting eyes. Eyes that had no idea they were being used. The way the picture was taken didn't just terrify me, it enraged me. His innocence wasn't just seen. It was claimed. Twisted. Held over me like a blade.
I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, as though the thin fabric could guard against the invisible gaze I still felt crawling over my skin. The words slipped out before I could stop them, a whisper shaped by fear and fury, meant only for the darkness around me.
"I'll be ready. I'll protect you, Jojo. I swear." I whispered to myself.
The promise was quiet but sharp, anchored in the hollow ache in my chest. I didn't know who he was or how far he would go, but I knew this, he had made a mistake by showing his hand. He had made himself real.
The taxi rolled on, carrying me farther from the clinic, farther from immediate danger, but not away from it entirely. Distance meant nothing when the threat didn't need to follow me to reach me. The stranger had already crossed the threshold of my life. He wasn't gone.
He was simply… waiting.
Somewhere in the dark, behind a window, a screen, a thought, they were still out there.
Watching.
Counting the seconds until I let my guard down again.
"Thank you. Should I scan this QR?" I asked as the taxi rolled to a stop in front of my building. My hand was already reaching for my phone when a sudden, sickening realization hit me like a blow to the chest.
I never told him my address.
The air in my lungs thinned instantly. The street, the car, the night, all of it seemed to tilt for a heartbeat as my fingers tightened around my phone, knuckles paling.
How did he know where I live?
The driver glanced back at me through the rearview mirror, his expression oddly polite, almost too calm. He offered a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, and slowly shook his head, still not breaking eye contact.
"No need," he said smoothly. "The person who hired me already paid in advance."
The words lodged in my spine like a shard of ice.
Someone hired him?
"W-What do you mean?" I managed to ask, my voice barely steady. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might crack my ribs, but I forced myself to remain composed.
His tone didn't change. "Someone hailed me for you, to drop you off and pick you up. They gave me the address and paid ahead of time."
For one fleeting second, I couldn't hear anything but my pulse, loud and suffocating in my ears. Questions clawed at the inside of my skull. Should I ask who hired him? What he looked like? If he spoke to the man? If anything felt off about him? But another thought slithered in, darker and far more dangerous.
What if the driver wasn't just a messenger?
What if he was part of it, pretending, watching, reporting?
I couldn't stay in the car a second longer.
Without answering, I pushed the door open and stepped out, my legs stiff and unsteady. The cold night air slapped against my face, but it didn't clear the fog of dread nesting in my chest. As the taxi pulled away, headlights fading into the dark, my gaze dropped to something resting neatly at my doorstep.
A bag.
My breath caught. The world seemed to narrow to the space between me and that object. I didn't have to open it to know who it was from.
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
Message:
"You got hurt. I left some medicine and bandages at your door. Don't forget to clean your wound… unless you want me to do it for you. I won't mind coming inside your house."
To be continued