Chapter 6

Iliana’s POV:

Everything was spiraling toward the worst.

That morning, the police arrived at the apartment. One of the officers was already fixing me with that skeptical look, but right before he could open his mouth and question my sanity again, I flagged my blood-stained shirt in the air, “Here’s the evidence you’ve been asking for.”

His gaze dropped to the shirt, and now, even he couldn’t ignore the evidence staring right back at him. Bold and undeniable.

He assessed the shirt with narrowed eyes for a few seconds before finally taking it for testing. Watching it sealed inside the evidence bag brought an immense wave of relief to me. At least, we were going somewhere.

Officers then dispersed around the apartment, searched it, and then regrouped in the living room.

“No sign of any forced entry,” one said.

“Everything appears undisturbed,” another added.

They took my statement, and I relayed the highlights of the last night, leaving out the part where I stabbed him multiple times, though. Soon, the forensics team rolled out their luminol kits and began analyzing the kitchen counters and floor. I watched them move with calm precision, spraying and scanning closely.

My pulse throbbed in my throat as I waited for that blue glow in the dark.

But there was nothing.

“He must have cleaned them,” I blurted out, trying to convince them.

Noticing my unrest and panic, they assured me they’d check the CCTV footage of the building and send my shirt for further testing.

I nodded numbly and agreed to wait.

The next morning, I got a call from a female officer. The blood froze in my veins when I heard her say, “We reviewed the building footage. It’s clean. No sign of anyone entering, leaving, or even lurking near your apartment last night.”

I was stunned into silence. My mouth parted, but no words came out. For two whole minutes, I just stood there, phone pressed to my ear, drowning in disbelief.

Then her voice softened as if she was talking to a frightened child, “Umm, honey, can I say something?”

I gripped the phone tighter, “Yeah?” I let out through a solid lump in my throat.

She replied in a gentle tone, “The human brain is very complicated, and sometimes, it likes to play tricks on us.” She paused for a moment before resuming, “Why don’t you…seek help? If you want, I can share a number of a very good therapist…”

Before she could utter any more of a nonsense, I ended the call and dumped my phone on the couch.

I wouldn’t let any of them get into my head. I knew what I’d seen. I knew what I’d felt. That fear, raw and terrific, only I knew how real that was.

But I didn’t lose hope. Not yet. The test results about the shirt were yet to come out.

That was the solid evidence, undeniable and unarguable. That would prove how wrong they were all along.

I waited. Impatient, restless, and counting down minutes.

And the next day, when I finally received the call, I rushed out of my classroom and picked it up for the good news.

But my heart dropped in the pit of my stomach when I heard, “The results came out. The blood doesn’t belong to a human. It’s animal blood. Have you butchered a chicken recently? Or maybe a rabbit…”

The words faded by the whooshing of blood in my ears. Oh God, what was happening? Nothing was making any sense anymore. The only thing I had to prove I wasn’t insane had just betrayed me.

All of a sudden, anger crept under my skin.

Stabbing my thumb on the red button, I cut off the call and shoved the phone into my bag and vowed to never take help from the police again.

They could take their evidences and pathetic rules up their arse for all I cared.

I’d figure this out myself.

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After being done with all the classes, I made my way into the library. The sun was about to set. Lately, I’d been retreating to my apartment after university but as it turned out, even that wasn’t safe anymore.

Plus, I needed to think, assess, and analyze everything from every angle. And the library’s quiet corners were the perfect refuge for that.

Roaming the aisles, I collected all the books I needed and strode toward the farthest corner of the library, away from hushed whispers and lingering eyes.

An hour later of skimming through books, I took out a diary and a pen from my bag.

Scattered in front of me on the table were the books about psychological disorders, true crime, stalking behavior, and a forensic science handbook.

Now that the police were out of the picture, I needed to take matters into my own hands.

Now it was him vs. me. And I wasn’t going down without a fight.

Opening the diary, I stared at the blank page for a few minutes while gathering my thoughts.

Letting out a shaky breath, I started scribbling:

Break-in but no CCTV footage. Was it wiped?

He turned off the lights. Fully masked. Was he someone I knew?

No scent. No accent.

Stabbed him thrice but he never even screamed.

Blood…disappeared. Knife…cleaned.

Blood on the shirt. But not human. HOW?

With my pen digging into the paper, I underlined the last line twice and kept staring at it for a long while, wondering what did it exactly mean.

All of a sudden, the air changed. It felt heavier, wrong. My head whipped up from the diary and I frantically scanned my surrounding. Nothing seemed out of place and yet nothing seemed right.

I was about to go back to my thoughts when the familiar itch started at the back of my neck. I was being watched. Again.

Dread swelled inside me. I pinched my eyes closed and took a deep, shallow breath. It had been silent for the last two days. After that night, he didn’t appear again. Until now…

The images of that horrific night started reeling through my mind. Blood…knife…his creepy laugh…

My eyes snapped open and my body jerked into action. Shooting up from the chair, I started grabbing all the books in my trembling hands.

Stumbling my way into the aisle, I dumped the books on their relevant shelves.

I was placing the last book on its shelf when it happened.

I heard a distant click of a switch before all lights turned off in the back aisles. Other than the dim moonlight pouring in through the window panels, it was eerily dark.

I clutched the book tightly. Small, ragged breaths rattled out of me.

My instincts screamed at me to move, to run away but who was I to fool? I knew there was no way out. I just knew there was no place I could run and hide from him. He was gonna chase me to the end of the world if he had to.

My whole body went rigid like a rock when I finally heard it. Distant whisper of footsteps on the tiled food.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

My heart hammered in my chest. Footsteps were getting closer.

My head whipped sideways as he finally emerged from the shadows. Tall, dangerous, and drenched in darkness.

Just like that night, he was cloaked in all black.

My legs trembled as he strode nearer.

A cold chill ran down my spine as he finally stopped behind me, close enough that I could feel the weight of his presence.

The darkness oozing out of him instantly wrapped around me like a poisoned fog, unwanted, suffocating, and yet impossible to escape

And then, I stopped breathing when he said in a dark, seductive voice, “Hello, Little Muse.”