(T/N) couldn't sleep. The vivid memory of the subway, the truth that had triggered everything, kept him awake. The feeling of having come back to life for some reason wouldn't fade.
He looked at the wall clock. 3:45 a.m.
The plan, the result of a night of panic, was scrawled in his mind:
Avoid Chloe, get out of the house before she could intercept him at the door, just as she had commanded.
Return to the subway and look for clues that would help him unravel the truth behind Chloe's change in attitude.
He moved through the house like a shadow, feeling the icy adrenaline of a fugitive. He packed his backpack and, most importantly, silenced his cell phone. Enough of the terrifying messages. Enough of the demands.
He approached his bedroom window, the one overlooking the street and Chloe's house. Although it was still night, a part of him feared seeing a figure standing there, smiling under the streetlight.
Chloe's house was completely dark. A perfect silence. Too perfect.
— "I'll come by for you tomorrow, okay?"
That sentence wasn't a question; it was an order. And if she was looking forward to a "wonderful day," he couldn't give her the chance to start executing it.
The Premeditated Escape
At 6:00 a.m., half an hour before his usual waking time, (T/N) was fully dressed and ready. The sky began to acquire an ash-gray hue.
He descended the stairs. Each step creaked under the weight of his tension. His parents' breakfast wasn't prepared yet, and the kitchen lights remained off.
The moment of truth: The front door. He approached it. If Chloe was already waiting for him, he'd see her through the peephole. He forced himself to breathe; his heart pounded against his ribs, like a caged bird.
He leaned in slowly and looked through the small hole. The sidewalk was empty.
There was no trace of Chloe. No sign of her terrifying smile. Just the empty sidewalk.
A brief, trembling sigh of relief escaped his lips. He had won the first battle: the element of surprise.
He opened the door as silently as possible, making sure the latch didn't click. Once outside, the feeling of being exposed doubled. He closed the door soundlessly and started walking. Fast.
(T/N) took the loneliest alley possible, a route that almost no one from the school used. His destination: the subway station, the scene of the crime.
He was on the second street, feeling his muscles tense up more and more, when he heard a sound that paralyzed him.
A whistle.
It wasn't a loud whistle, but soft and melodic, the kind of tune you hear when someone is completely satisfied. And it came from the right, from the corner he was about to turn.
(T/N) stopped dead, hiding behind a recycling bin. He cautiously peered his head out.
There she was.
Chloe.
She was standing on the corner. She wasn't looking at him, but at the street he was heading down. She was flawless: ironed uniform, braided hair, and a backpack that looked brand new. Her hands were clasped behind her back, swaying slightly, as if waiting for a dear friend.
Chloe stopped whistling, turned her head with terrifying precision, and smiled.
The smile wasn't one of kindness; it was one of triumph.
— Chloe: I knew you wouldn't wait for me, (T/N). But don't worry.
She took a step into the alley, blocking his escape route to the subway.
— Chloe: It doesn't matter which path you take. You promised me we would go together.
(T/N) felt desperation begin to take hold, and his legs turned to jelly. She wasn't waiting at his door; she was waiting for his plan. She had anticipated his move.
He understood the chilling truth: she seemed to be one step ahead because, no matter what he did, she already knew the reaction.
Author's Note
The pace will quicken as the story progresses, although I don't know if I'll have the motivation to continue.