CHAPTER 4: EYES IN THE DARK

AMARA'S POV

The darkness pressed against my eyelids long before the nightmare began.

It felt different this time—too real, too close.

Like someone was standing right behind me in the shadows.

I couldn’t see him, but I felt him.

A presence.

Warm.

Eyes I couldn’t see still managed to hold me in place, freezing me like a statue. A hot breath skimmed the back of my neck, sending a violent shiver down my spine.

I tried to turn. Tried to scream.

Nothing moved.

A voice slipped through the shadows, soft but impossible to ignore.

My name.

“Amara…”

The sound curled around me like smoke, like something I should have run from… but my heart reacted before my mind could. It drew toward the voice, toward the warmth that hovered inches from my skin.

Not touching me.

Just close enough to steal my breath.

Then the darkness swallowed everything whole.

I jolted awake with a gasp, chest rising and falling too fast. My room was silent, but I didn’t feel alone.

My sheets were tangled around my legs, my chest heaving as if I had sprinted through a forest. The room was silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that made my ears ring.

But I didn’t feel alone.

My skin tingled, like the warmth from that breath still clung to me. I pressed a hand over my neck but felt nothing.

“Why do I feel like you’re here?” I whispered to the empty room.

No answer came from the dark corners.

Nothing answered.

My breath hitched. I yanked the covers up to my chin and curled in on myself.

I was talking to myself now, and I feel like I am going crazy.

I didn’t want nightmares. I didn’t want shadows whispering my name. I didn’t want something unseen hovering around me.

But deep down…

I wasn’t scared of him.

Not the way anyone should’ve been.

That voice… something about it felt familiar in a way that made no sense. My body reacted to it before my brain could catch up, like I already knew him somehow.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

And in that moment I drifted to sleep.

The next morning I woke up stiff, the kind that makes your body remind you it existed all night.

The memory of the dream was still there, the weight of those unseen eyes, the way my name had rolled across the dark as it belonged to someone else.

I found my way into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, tied my hair back, and had the fastest bath I have had in years.

I got dressed quickly, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door.

My hand froze on the handle.

A white envelope lay on the floor, half-slid under the door, perfectly centred as if someone had placed it there with intention.

I stared at it, heartbeat switching from fast to frantic.

I hadn’t heard a knock, yet… it was there.

I crouched slowly, every instinct screaming at me to leave it alone. But my fingers reached for it like I was compelled.

The envelope was warm, like someone had been holding it seconds before.

A cold wave crawled up my spine.

I flipped it over.

No name. No address. No stamp.

Nothing.

Just an envelope that felt wrong in my hands.

I should’ve thrown it away. Burned it.

Instead, I tore it open with shaking fingers.

Something light slid out and floated to the ground.

A photograph.

My breath stilled in my chest.

It was me.

I was standing at the bus stop yesterday morning. Backpack slung over my shoulder. Earphones in. Checking the time on my phone.

Taken from behind.

Up close.

Too close.

My fingers trembled as I picked it up.

This wasn’t someone zooming in from far away.

This was someone standing right next to me.

Watching.

The envelope wasn’t empty. A small folded note sat inside. I pulled it out with stiff fingers and opened it.

One sentence.

Written in thick, dark ink.

“You are not alone.”

The room tilted slightly, a soft ringing filling my ears. I clutched the photo harder, my knuckles slightly whitening.

No one else had been near me at the bus stop.

I would have noticed.

I would have felt that something was wrong.

The whisper from the night slid back into my mind like a shadow curling under a door.

Amara…

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the rush of fear. But underneath that fear, something else throbbed, something warm, unwelcome.

Recognition.

Whoever had taken this picture… whoever slid this envelope to my door… whoever whispered my name in the dream…

I could feel them now. Not physically, but close.

A soft pulse of warmth brushed my shoulder again, so faint I almost doubted it.

Almost.

I opened my eyes, breath trembling.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

Silence answered.

But I felt it, the same pull from the dream tightening around me like a thread.

I dropped the photo, stepped back from the door, and pressed my hand against my chest, trying to steady my heart.

Whatever this was… it hadn’t started this morning.

And it wasn’t ending today.