A soft, steady breath turned into a long inhale—then a sharp gasp, as if she were grasping for air.
Missy's eyes snapped open.
Her heart pounded. Her body fought for air. She jerked upright.
She clutched her chest, trying to steady her ragged breathing. Cold sweat drenched her skin. Blinking rapidly, she forced herself to focus, scanning her surroundings.
Her room.
She was in her room. How?
Missy jumped off her bed and rushed to the balcony window. From the upper floor of her apartment building, she looked down at the parking area.
Gone!
Her car was gone.
Then why was she still fine?
She ran her fingers through her tangled waves, confusion tightening her chest.
"What is this…? Last night… was it just a dream? No…"
She turned to the mirror, studying her reflection. Her fingers brushed her face before her gaze dropped to her bare feet against the carpet.
"Ouch—"
She flinched, wincing as pain bloomed across her cheek from the pinch.
Dazed, Missy sank onto the edge of the bed.
"Oh, God… what really happened…?" Her voice came out weak as she ran a trembling hand through her messy hair.
No matter how hard she thought about it, nothing made sense. Last night had felt too real to be a dream. She could still feel the icy water piercing through her body as she drowned.
And every time the memory surfaced, she shivered.
A nightmare…
It had to be.
Right?
Missy was sipping a warm drink, forcing herself through breakfast when the doorbell rang.
She froze.
Even the smallest sound now made her tense. Alert. Slowly, she reached for a frying pan before approaching the door.
On her tiptoes, she peeked through the peephole.
No one.
Only a small box sat on the floor outside.
"A package…?"
Frowning, she opened the door and picked it up. She wasn't expecting anything.
No sender. No label. Nothing.
Carrying it inside, she set it on the dining table and sliced through the tape without much thought.
"Oh!" She gasped, flung the box away the moment she saw inside.
A dead crow.
She staggered back and collapsed onto the floor, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
Her entire body trembled. Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
Hands shaking, she forced herself to reach for the box again. Inside, a folded piece of paper lay stained with dried blood.
She opened it.
So… you're still alive.
Short, yet it made Missy froze.
Then she hurled the note away.
"Aah—!"
Her breath came in sharp, broken bursts.
So it wasn't a dream.
It had really happened.
Panic clawed at her chest. She pressed her hand harder against her mouth, as if that could hold everything in.
Was someone watching her?
Even now?
A knock on the door made her flinch.
"Miss Mellisa," a familiar voice called.
Relief flickered.
Mr. Alan.
She quickly wiped her tears and splashed water on her face before opening the door.
"Yes, Mr. Alan."
"Ah, sorry to bother you. I just wanted to check—has your pipe been fixed?" he asked kindly. Then he paused, studying her face. "Are you alright, dear? You look a little pale."
The middle-aged man smiled warmly. He had always been kind to the tenants. The apartment wasn't much, but it had been enough for Missy—especially with its convenient location near her office.
"I'm fine. Just… a bit of overtime work," she replied politely.
"Alright then. Make sure you lock your doors and windows."
Missy nodded with a small smile. "Thank you. And please send my regards to Mrs. Moore. Her strawberry jam the other day was wonderful."
Mr. Alan chuckled. "Ah, she'll be delighted to hear that. Dorothy does love compliments."
With a wave, he left.
Missy shut the door and turned back.
Grabbing a pair of tongs from the kitchen, she approached the box again. Carefully, she picked up the crow without touching it. Too disgusted and frightened to touch it directly.
"Oh, God…" Her skin prickled.
She sealed the box, shoved it into a trash bag along with the tongs, and hurried downstairs to the disposal area near the parking lot.
As she turned to leave—
She froze.
Across the street, a black car was parked.
The same car.
Its bumper was dented!
Her breath hitched.
Missy backed away, slipping through the rear entrance and pressing herself against the wall, breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded wildly.
She peeked. Once. Twice.
Panic surged again.
Without thinking, she bolted for the emergency stairs. The elevator was too exposed. If someone was watching in that car…
They would see her.
Then, her phone vibrated the moment she stepped inside her apartment.
"Lazy girl!" Olivia's voice snapped through the line.
Missy winced, pulling the phone slightly away.
"Your dismissal letter isn't out yet, right? Bring all the work files that you still holdiing. Do you know what time it is? I have a client meeting, and you'll ruin everything if you don't bring what I need! Damn it, now I have to clean up your mess!"
"The files…? O-okay…"
"NOW!" The call ended abruptly.
"Bitch…" Missy muttered under her breath.
Strangely… it helped.
For a moment, Olivia's awful voice drowned out her fear.
With no car, she had no choice but to walk. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she left through the back exit again.
Her steps were quick. Uneven.
She didn't want to be outside.
Not after all that she had experienced.
Occasionally she tensed and glanced at her reflection in the glass storefronts she passed.
She froze again for a moment when she saw the reflection of two men walking a few steps behind her.
Her paranoia returned. She felt like she was constantly being watched now even in the crowd.
Two men.
Walking?
Following?
Her chest tightened.
Kling!
Without thinking, she slipped into a nearby shop. Pressing herself near the entrance, she peeked through the glass.
They walked past.
Just talking. Laughing.
Not following her.
Missy exhaled shakily.
"I must be losing it…" she muttered, exhaling.
"Miss?"
She turned. A man stood behind the counter.
"Can I help you?"
"Oh— I… I…"Her voice faltered as she finally took in her surroundings.
Antiques.
Everywhere.
"Oh… wow." Her eyes lit up. "Antique pieces…"
The shopkeeper smiled faintly. "Interested? Go ahead—choose something that catches your eye."
Missy wandered between the displays, the neatly arranged objects. Her fingers brushing lightly over the items.
"Choose one," the man repeated.
He remained behind a sort of cashier table that merged with another glass display and stood watching her.
She stopped at the glass case in front of him, examining the smaller items inside—jewelry, worn books, delicate ornaments.
"Hmm... these are just old pieces… classic, yes, but honestly, there's nothing really interesting," she murmured.
Then she looked up—
And froze.
Her gaze locked onto something on his chest.
A pin.
Gold. Intricately engraved.
Without realizing it, she reached out. As if hypnotized to touch it.
"Miss."
The man's hand covered it calmly.
She blinked, startled.
"Oh—uh, umm I'm sorry. Your pin… it's beautiful. What is that engraving?"
Before he could answer—
Her phone vibrated.
"Damn it… Olivia." Missy turned away immediately.
"I'm sorry, I have to go. Nice shop!"
She jogged out of the shop leaving the shopkeeper still standing there.
The shopkeeper watched her leave.
"Nothing interesting, huh…?" he muttered.
From the corner of the room, behind a tall antique clock, another man stepped out.
"No," he said with a quiet chuckle. "She was clearly very interested in your pin."
His gaze flicked to the covered pin.
"Hmmm, that girl…" A faint smile curved his lips.
"Shouldn't she be... dead?" asked the well-dress man to shopkeeper with a meaningful gaze.
The shopkeeper said nothing.
He simply stood there—silent, unreadable.
***