The next morning, I couldn't look at anyone the same way. Not after the note. Not after the blood on my knee and the words burned into my brain: FUCKER. LIAR.
I waited until breakfast. The dining room felt huge, blinding—sunlight poured through the tall windows, mocking me. Lily sat at the far end, coloring, tongue poking out in concentration.
Victor scrolled his phone, face blank, carefully avoiding me. Elena sipped her coffee, perfect as always—hair smooth, smile ready.
I cleared my throat. Dry. Scratchy.
"I'm going back to my apartment today. The water problems have been fixed. I think I've overstayed," I said, trying to sound casual.
Elena's fork froze halfway to her mouth. She lowered it gently. Eyes on mine—soft at first, but something sharp glimmered beneath the surface.
"No," she said, flat. Blunt. No room for argument.
I blinked. "What?"
She set the fork down with a soft clink. Turned to Lily, who looked up right on cue—big eyes, shiny, lower lip already poking out.
"Lily needs her aunt," Elena said, voice smooth, warm, but with a cold edge. "Don't you, baby?"
Lily nodded eagerly. "Please stay, Auntie Lys. I'll miss you too much."
Something inside me twisted. Those little pleading eyes dug into me like claws.
Elena leaned forward slightly, smile widening. "She needs you more now. Especially since I'm taking company matters more seriously."
I froze. "What do you mean?"
Her smile turned proud. "I convinced Victor to let me work alongside him. I need to understand the business inside and out. After all, I'm his wife."
Jealousy erupted like fire. Hot, ugly. I'd applied months ago—poured my heart into the interview. Rejected politely. But Elena? She just asked—and got it. Because of a ring.
I forced a laugh. Strangled, fake. "That's… great. Really. Congrats."
She didn't break the smile. Eyes never leaving mine.
I stayed three more days.
I couldn't resist. Lily's bright eyes every morning, the tiny tug of her hands, her soft voice: "Auntie Lys, play with me?" Elena's quiet insistence. "Just a little longer. For her."
Victor stayed distant, gone most days, returning late with excuses.
But the house itself began to shift.
Every shadow stretched too long. Every creak sounded amplified. Locks checked four times before bed. Windows peered into darkness, hunting shapes that weren't there.
I started jumping at doors opening, heart hammering over nothing.
Elena was everywhere. Too close.
Tea delivered unasked. "You look exhausted, little sis." Her hand lingered on my arm, fingers cool, deliberate.
At meals, touches brushed mine—passing bread, asking about my knee like she knew every detail.
Victor avoided me like I carried disease. Eyes down, plates focused. Quick exits. No glances. Nights burned me alive, restless under blankets, staring at the ceiling fan, listening for notes, footsteps, the faintest creak that might signal threat.
Shadows moved in corners, whispers in the wind. I told myself it was sleep deprivation. Paranoia. But it felt real. Always eyes on me. Watching. Waiting.
By the fourth night, it had escalated. I was sleeping when I heard it—a soft, rhythmic sound. Ting-ting-ting.
I snapped awake. Heart slamming against my ribs, every nerve on fire. Moonlight sliced through the curtains, thin silver beams across the ceiling.
And there it hung.
A massive plastic cock—grotesque, lifelike, veins under shiny skin. Thick. Obscene. Bells knotted around the base, jingling softly with every lazy sway.
Painted in thick, dripping red—like fresh blood: VICTOR.
It swung toward me. Closer. Alive. Reaching.
Air left my lungs. A scream tore out—raw, animal, louder than anything human. It echoed off the walls.
Footsteps thundered. Hard knocks.
"Lys! Open the door!" Victor's voice broke.
"Alyssa? Baby, what's wrong?" Elena, sharp with worry.
Sheets tangled my legs. Fell hard. Pain shot through my elbow. I scrambled, climbed the bed, shaking violently.
Grabbed the thing—arms trembling. Bells screamed, jangling wildly. Kicked it under the bed. Deep. Hidden.
Fumbled for the lock.
Door burst open. Victor first—shirtless, hair wild, eyes frantic. "Lys—what happened?"
Elena right behind him—robe tight, scanning fast, predator eyes. She went straight to the window. Yanked curtain. Dark garden. Hunting something invisible.
I stood, arms wrapped around myself, breath ragged.
"Nightmare," I gasped. "Bad one. Didn't mean—"
Victor stepped close. "You screamed like—"
"It's okay," Elena cut in. Slow, deliberate. Eyes met mine. Then she smiled. Soft. Loving. Wrong. Something black flickered deep behind it. Cold. Hungry.
Skin crawled. Hairs rose.
She came over, squeezed my shoulder. Gentle. Sisterly.
"Nightmares feel real sometimes," she murmured. "Rest, little sis."
And she left. Robe whispering down the hall.
Victor lingered. "Are you sure you're —"
"Go," I whispered. He followed, door shutting behind them.
Silence crashed in. Heart hammering. I paced around desperately twitching, before dropping to my knees. I reached under the bed and pulled it out.
VICTOR. Red paint, dripping slow onto carpet. Bells echoing in rhythm inside my skull.
Ting-ting-ting.
I shoved it back. Cried without sound. Someone had invaded my room while I slept. Left this. They knew. And the worst part—I didn't know if they would stop.
***
The next morning, I didn't eat, i packed up all my stuffs like demons chased me. Clothes shoved, bags zipped sloppy. Heart still racing from bells that weren't there.
No more nights. No more breaths in that house.
I Slunged the bags over my shoulder, looked around—the bed where he took me, the shower where I begged, ceiling where it hung mocking.
I walked out without goodbyes. Gates clanged shut behind.
But I felt it still. Someone watching. Shadow of a woman at the mansion, watching me leave. Bells ringing in my ears. Red paint dripping inside my skull.
They knew I ran. And running only made the hunt better.