The Novel: His Future, Her Redemption, Their Failure, Reflection
Chapter One
10:42 pm
Home.
Nathaniel
Who invented attics? I need to go give them a personal talk too because I swear every time, I come up here, I feel eyes watching me. Eyes of spiders, eyes of ghosts, eyes of demons, eyes of the walls. I could truly go on forever.
I don’t remember why I’m up here; I wanted to look for something. I look around this dusty, creepy place full of invisible eyes and find a nice-looking box in the corner. By nice I mean it is colorful; everything else up here is sad-looking. I walk over to it and sit down on the cold floor. I have the box right next to me. "Is not this how people die in the horror movies?" I ask myself as I carefully open it. I ask out loud to whatever spirits are listening. The only reaction I get is a spider that descends from the ceiling and lands next to me. I open the box. A black book with a golden border that reads "Future" greets me.
The fact that there is only the title and no author or other information describing the story's subject matter bothers me. Considering how much dust has accumulated on the cover, it has likely been sitting here for years. I open the book and press my back closer to the wall. As a 26-year-old man, I still live with that saying in my mind.
I open the book, and my senses are assaulted by the all-time favorite dust that sends me into a sneezing fit for about a minute, yet the first words that I see are ‘He’s Watching.’
It’s the only thing written on the first page. It seems to be one of those books that starts off in a diary entry, so I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t intrigued.
He was sitting alone in the attic above his house. He personally hated it up there- —all the eyes watching him. His name was Nathaniel Carterson.
I stop and rub my eyes. No way.
Is this book about me? Because that’s my first and last name… Although Nathaniel is a common first name and Carterson is a fairly common last name, he is also in the attic at the same time as me. "The Eyes"...
I pick it back up, my heart now racing a mile a minute as I continue to skim through the pages.
He had mostly been alone for the majority of his life. His only friend was his older brother, Jameson, but ever since he ran away from home, Nathaniel never wanted to feel that betrayal again. He had always relied on his brother to support him, but cancer took their mother away with its vicious claws. Their father quickly turned to drinking; he couldn’t keep up with all the meetings with teachers. Nathaniel and Jameson were worried that CPS would come and take them away. Jameson couldn’t handle all the pressure and just ran. He ran and never came back.
Nathaniel had done his best to fake out his father's handwriting for any school letters. He slowly learned to live with it, but not without Jameson- —even in his adult years he never got over him. Over the thoughts of wondering if he was dead, alive, hurt, or even in the same state anymore. Sometimes he felt angry.
But this is not the time to dwell over his childhood life- —right now I’m here to write about what’s coming. It's coming quickly.
A killer is lurking, and Nathaniel is his only victim. The person that he trusts more than anyone in the whole universe will be the one to take his life.
The writing just stops right there, but now I could care less- —I can’t breathe. Someone has my full name- —someone wants to kill me. I look around as if someone would charge at me from behind that tall wall mirror. I’m in a vulnerable position, so if someone came at me, I’d die right here in this corner. My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest. I try to stand, but my legs are shaking so badly that I stumble.
I’ve never told anybody anything about my father- —I haven’t even told my girlfriend of four years. Kayla. It’s not that I don’t trust her—I completely trust her with my life; it’s just that I find it super hard to open up about things from the past. Especially about my mother. Bless her heart.
I leave the book right where it’s at, open on the floor, afraid to bring it with me or even close it. I rush down the stairs and close the stairs up as soon as I’m done.
It’s very quiet. Too quiet… It feels as if someone is watching me. Being in my own house feels very suffocating. I can’t stay here- —I can’t breathe. I run towards the door, not even bothering to put shoes on as I struggle to get a clear grasp on the doorknob. I throw open the door and run outside, listening to the slam of it behind me.
11:00 pm.
Outside; Porch
Nathaniel
I turn around as the door closes, half expecting to see a murderer at my throat brandishing a knife. right at my throat. I only see the yellow paint peeling, though. I put a soothing hand over my racing heart and feel the thump, thump, thump beneath my fingers.
Once my heart has settled into a reasonable pace, I walk off of the porch and onto the street, leaning against my car. Slowly I begin to piece together everything that happened in the last 15-20 minutes. I went up into the attic. I came upon an old book without an author for some reason.
Somehow, I came upon an old book with no author. The book detailed the childhood trauma I experienced (information that only three people would be aware of), and then it revealed that I would be the victim of a murder. Rethinking about it makes my heart speed up once more, but I force myself to stay calm. I can’t freak out. It could just be a joke from Kayla.
I do not think Kayla would ever treat me in such a cruel way, but is that not what people say about people? Although it seems like Kayla would never treat me cruelly, is that not what people say about people? I take another deep breath to calm myself.
I feel around my pockets for my phone and realize that I don’t have it on me. Actually, all I am wearing is a tight black leather jacket that smells like sandalwood and long pants.
"Well, what comes next?" The only response I get when I ask the stars is the loud chirping of crickets in the night. Until daylight returns, I will not be returning to that house. That much is certain. I have seen enough dumb people in horror films who just give up and do not care, and if life is a movie like that, I will not be the first to die in it in the most predictable way. I will sleep in my freaking car-
It feels like a kick in the gut when I also discover that my car keys are still in the house. Regardless, I will not be going back to that house tonight. “Looks like I’m sleeping on the porch tonight.” I suggest gazing up at the stars once more. This is what I usually do—I suppose it is how I communicate with God. Sometimes I just wish he would reply.
I slide onto the ground and lean against my Chevy, and slowly but surely my eyes begin to get heavy, and finally I go to sleep.
Anonymous
I watch him run out of his house, slamming the door behind him. He appears terrified. Naturally, he ought to be. He doesn’t sense me watching him, and even if he does, he doesn’t show it. I cross my arms across my chest as I lean in closer, trying to hear what he’s saying. He’s talking to himself, apparently- —I forgot he does that. It’s been a while since I’ve been around him. But growing up, even after Mom died, is when he started doing it, always thinking that she would reply. Sad, because she never did.
He sits by his car, burying his face in his hands- —he must be stressed out by now. Honestly, I would too. Poor Nathy… I watched him for a few more hours, and to even my surprise, he fell asleep- —outside.
Another thing I’d never expected him to do, as a kid all he would think about were the dangers of the outside. So, him doing this now kind of seems strange, but I guess the things we do in fear, huh? Once I know for sure that he’s asleep, I walk out of my hiding spot in the woods, stretching my arms and back.
I’m going to be red all over by tomorrow, but I needed to do this tonight. I gingerly walk up to his car—careful to not even breathe the wrong way— as I scribble a note on a piece of paper that I brought with me (that has been crumpled into a ball way too many times by now) and scribble a note for him. He’ll see it in the morning. Nathaniel was always a smart kid; he’ll know what it means. Once I tape it to his car and walk back into the woods without anyone seeing me— I already took care of all the security cameras a few weeks ago- —and even if someone did end up seeing me, Nathy’s going to have a hard time explaining this one. Normally he has a pretty good reason for the things that he does—like how he promised he’d clean the attic today…
You should always watch your surroundings Nathy~
In addition, the attic still needs to be cleaned; you had better get to it.
Outside
8:16 A.M.
Nathaniel
I wake up to a severe pain in my neck, and lifting it feels horribly painful. I grab the back of my neck and rub it for a minute, confusion washing over me. As I slowly remember that I am outside on the ground, “I need to take a shower,” I murmur out loud to whoever’s listening. Hopefully no one is, though. The thought of it gives me memories of last night. I look up at the house—even though it’s daylight, I still don’t want to go back into that house, but everything that I need is inside.
I steel myself and stand up, my back feeling like it’s one hundred years old. I stretch for a moment, mostly trying to waste time, before going inside.
“Come on, man up.” I growl to myself, running up the stairs to my porch. I place my hand on it. If something just feels wrong, I am out of here, to heck with this place. I looked for my phone; I think I had it on the coffee table. Or was it on my bed? I slowly and very quietly walk up the stairs to my bedroom. In case someone is in here, I’m taking extra precautions so as not to alert them of my presence. Taking the steps by two, I cling to the banister and wince whenever the floor creaks under my weight.
Once I make it to the landing, I’m tensing up to run back down the stairs. My bedroom door is open… I swear on all that is holy that I had it closed. I pause my walking—now, would it be smart to go in there? No, it’s not- —but why am I walking again?
I walk into the room; my phone sits untouched on the bed, face down. Clothing all over the floor, the curtains drawn tightly. I unzip my jacket and toss it on the bed. Now I’m feeling the urge to go into that attic and finish reading the book, just to know what happens. It’s the only thing consuming my thoughts for the entire time that I’m sitting on the bed staring at this peeling patch of paint.
I do not realize it until I am standing right above the book, staring at it, when my feet suddenly drag me into the attic.
As if I’m not in control of my own body, I lean down and pick it up. I left it on the same page, and it remains there. Unaffected. The weight of the book feels heavy in my hands as I drop to my knees and pick it up. I stare down at it, reading the same words over and over again until my eyes hurt. After a long while I turn the page, finally having enough courage to do so.
Nathaniel would soon find out who his killer is, but in the most unexpected way, could he find out who it is? Could he stop it? Or will he just succumb to the darkness that is surrounding him quickly? I turn the page.
Kayla would come over to his house, on the 5th of May 2025. They had broken up a few days before and she wanted to talk to him about it. Plus, he left his jacket at her place and she needed to return it.
She had called multiple times before showing up to his house, all nervous and sweaty. Her hands shook as she knocked on his door. Once, twice, three times had she knocked but she had gotten no reply. It wasn’t really a surprise but it had still hurt. She tried the door handle, and too her utmost surprise it was unlocked!
She turned the handle and quietly poked her head in “Nathaniel? It’s Kayla you left your jacket.” She had called out into the deathly silent house. His car was in the parking lot so he must be home…She thought. She stepped into the house, calling out his name again—something truly didn’t feel right “Nathaniel? I’m coming in, okay?”. She closed the door behind her. She looked around for a moment. She heard nothing. As if afraid of disturbing the silence she tip-toed around the living room finding no Nathaniel. What she did find disturbed her. Papers. All over the walls, all over the table, all over the floors, everywhere.
Kayla picked up the one that had a picture of her face on it, red writing scribbled under her smiling face. It spoke of how she couldn’t be trusted, she was too quiet, smiling to often, “She’s working with someone to KILL ME. SHE CAN’T BE TRUSTED. NO ONE CAN BE TRUSTED. “She felt her heart shatter. Nathaniel had changed so badly. She set the paper down, not wanting to read about his downfall even farther.
~creak~
She spun around, expecting to find him standing on the stairs staring down at her with those sharp eyes, messy hair and sharp jawline, but no. Instead of anyone standing there she only felt an eerie cold breeze. “Nate?” She said out loud and regretted it. She had always hated the sound of her own echo, but this house seemed to sense that. Hearing her own voice call out to her Ex-Boyfriend made her scared. She quietly walked up the stairs but when she made it to the landing she stopped dead in her tracks.
I stop reading for a moment. I just heard something. I spin around and look at the attic door. I know I am up here alone but it feels like I’m being watched. This is bad. Someone wrote about my murder. I hold the book to my chest and beat it down the stairs. I make sure I have my phone and keys with me before I slam the door behind me and rush to my car and start driving.
Police Station
9:46 A.M.
Nathaniel
I’m at my destination before I know it. My heart is racing so fast right now. I grab my door handle and open the door. I step out into the open air and stand outside of my car for a while. In fact, it’s such a long while that a police officer walks up to me.
“Excuse me, sir? Do you need something?” She asks me with a slight accent in her voice; she must be from Mexico. I stare at her for a moment before shrugging, “Yeah…I do.” I say my voice low, as my thoughts start to drift again. She offers me a warm smile that matches her brown eyes and darker brown hair—but it’s forced. “What do you need, sir?” I look at the ground, then look back up at her. “I don’t know.” I say. I don’t know how to explain this to someone.
Now she’s confused. “Alright, sir, Care to tell me your name?”
“Nathaniel Carterson,” I murmur.
She nods. “Care to come inside?”
I stare at her for a moment. It’s very small in there, and I’m feeling claustrophobic right now. I shake my head. “No.” She shrugs and nods “Care to explain why?”
“No.”
“Okay…” I consider going back home but quickly dismiss it. I open the car door and grab the book. Holding it against my chest, I lean back against the car again and consider calling Kayla, but I don’t want to worry her.
By the time the officer returns, I am sitting on the concrete. “Okay, Nathaniel, I am Rosita Lopez. Why did you come here today?” She asks, looking down at me for a moment before taking a seat on the ground facing me.
“I-I…found something in my attic last night.” I say, placing the book on the ground in between us. Looking down at the book, she pulls out a notepad and asks, "This is what you found?" I give a nod. “It was in a box, and it had no author for it, so I read it, and… it said things.” For some reason my tongue is just stuck to the roof of my mouth when I try to explain what I read.
She nods “What did it say?” I look at her. Unable to reply, noticing this, she grabs the book “Can I read through it?” She asks never opening it. I nod and shrug at the same time. “Yeah…”
“But?”
“I’m about to die…” I say.
She sits up straighter “How so?” I nod my head towards the book. I watched her turn the first page and read through them; her brows furrowed in concentration. I watch her read through the pages. She doesn’t read the whole thing but I choose a comfortable place to stop.
“When did you find this?” the sweet smile, and rosy cheeks disappear—replaced with a very serious, concerned, and stern look.
“Like I said, yesterday…It was sitting in a box in my attic.”
“How long had it been there?”
“I don’t know?”
“You don’t know how long it’s been in your attic?”
I stare at her… “Officer I normally stay away from places that don’t hold worth to me. Nothing that I need is in the attic therefore it is pointless for me to go up there. So, no I don’t know how long it was in my attic.” I say my tone laced with venom and fear.
“…Right. Do you know anyone who might have a personal vendetta against you?”
“No. I’m a low life.”
“Have you let anyone into your house as of late?” She asks, still looking down at the book and jotting something on her notepad. “What do you mean by recent?” I ask.
“Past two weeks.” She says, finally looking up at me.
“Only my girlfriend, Kayla.” I dare say. “But she was always downstairs with me.” I add quickly, shaking my head.
“What’s her last name?”
“Watherinen; W-a-t-h-e-r-i-n-e-n.” I say Kayla had told me she hated it because it was hard to spell and pronounce. She wrote it down as I spelled it for her. I looked up at the group of birds flying overhead. My back hurts. She stays seated on the ground, her features etched with concentration, while I get up and look around, feeling momentarily almost dazed by the sun's rays. up, looking around, feeling almost dazed for a moment as the sun beats down on my face; she remains seated on the ground, concentration etched onto her features.
“Now Nathaniel-” She starts but I cut her off “Nate… Please call me Nate.” She nods “Nate… I’m not saying that it is, but do you think this could be a joke?” I shake my head. “Nobody comes into my house like that except me and Kayla, and she doesn’t even know I have an attic, plus she’s not even in town right now.” I say looking down at her.
She nods “Where is she?”
“Texas—she’s visiting her parents.” She looks at the book again. “You got any other close friends?” She eyes me warily and I feel my hands start to sweat, which is weird…I shouldn’t be nervous, I’ve literally done nothing wrong. “No, It’s just us.”
“So, who’s Jameson?” She asks pointing to his name on the page. I hesitate, “Why does it matter?” She cocks her head to the side “Because, if this is real then I would like to know the people of interest. Unless you have something to hide from me.” Her look is challenging me.
“No, I don’t have anything to hide…I just- He was my brother.” I say, with a simple shrug, tugging my jacket tighter around me.
“Was?”
“He ran away when we were younger, I’ve never seen him since. Which is why I don’t think he’s important. Haven’t seen him in over a decade.”
She nods and writes something down on her legal pad. “Do you have anything else for me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you found anything else in your home that is like this?”
“Well, no…I wasn’t really looking for something to find, but uh, no.” I rock back on my heels, hands in my pockets with my thumbs sticking out.
“If I’m going to be honest with you…I’m not sure what to make of this. It seems as though someone has this extremely planned. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She says, finally standing at eye level with me. I inhale sharply. “What do I do?”
She looks around for a moment grabbing the, straps of her bulletproof vest. “Since we don’t have any real solid evidence, and you don’t have any enemies to be on the lookout for, I would say you get a security system and keep a very close on it. If you notice anything out of place. You take note of it, and call me.” She begins to write something on paper, then hands it to me. “Here.”
I take it it’s her phone number. “But what about the book?” I ask, pointing to it from where it lies on the ground; it could easily be mistaken for a journal. “You can just keep it. Tomorrow, I’ll copy it so I can also see what you’re looking’ at.”
I nod, keeping up with the quick words and hand gestures. I tuck the paper into my pocket and then cross my arms over my chest.
Soon after I leave the police station, I head out to the Home Depot to buy security cameras. I haven’t decided how many I wanted to get but I suppose I will be getting one f or each room in the house…Not sure about the bathroom though. As I’m walking around, I happen to take notice of a hooded man being in certain isles as me, never really picking up anything, just following me around.
“Get lost” I murmur, placing the last camera into my cart, before going over to find some nails. He takes his phone out of his pocket and stares at it for a moment…I take that opportunity to continue walking before he decides to follow.
Anonymous
HOME
12:40 a.m.
I stare up at the security camera that Nathaniel put up about a few hours ago; he did a really good job, if I do say so myself. I cock my head to the side and stare at it almost as if confused. Right now, he is upstairs sleeping…after about three hours of trying he finally managed to catch some shut eye.
I walk away into the kitchen; I’m thirsty. He’s a really clean guy, I will admit that. I open up the fridge and pull a water bottle out, taking long, thirsty gulps.
Man, I hate the summer.
I open up a kitchen drawer and stare at the assortment of knifes. “Which one of you is the sharpest?” I ask, sliding my fingers through the blades.
“You are.” I murmur, picking up a long and sharp butcher knife and setting the bottle of water onto the counter. I slide my gloved index finger along the sharp line of the blade wincing as it cuts the palm of my hand. Blood begins to pour, but I quickly wipe it off on the hem of my shirt, but it continues relentlessly. “Crap-” I whisper, my heart pounding; I am currently leaving a ton of evidence behind. The loudest sound I have ever heard occurs when the knife slips out of my hand and clangs against the counter before hitting the ground. I try to put it down.
His movements are audible, and I do not have enough time to rush back outside. I have to go hide-
CHAPTER TWO
Nathaniel
12:56 am
Home
I sit erect. What was that? I turned to see what kind of sound it was—metal hitting something. With my hand already shaking, I grab my phone and move to the edge of my bed.
Before I open the door, I remember I don’t necessarily have to go downstairs; I just put up cameras, and they are connected to my phone.
I quickly head back to my bedside table, where I switch on my camera and see all of the Motion Detected alerts. Fear starts to seep into my veins, causing my pulse to quicken. My finger hesitates over the option for the camera. I click it, and the first thing makes my heart actually slow, and I fill with confusion.
Why do I see...myself?
Officer Lopez
Home
1:00 am
Rosa Lopez.
I haven’t drunk the whiskey that has been sitting in front of me for about an hour. After meeting with Nathaniel today, I’ve been plagued with nightmares of my very first case as a rookie, and boy has it haunted me.
I pick up the glass and stare at the brown-gold liquid, swishing it around. I set it back down on the table, sighing.
I know I won’t be able to go back to sleep, so I get up to go grab the past police reports. I read them over and over again. Nathaniel's case and this one are starting to look so familiar in all ways.
I whisper into my dark home, “Dios, por favor sálvame de volver a fallarle a alguien.” (God, please save me from failing someone again.)
I know he won’t reply...but it doesn’t stop me from hoping.
I stand up filled with vigor, and yet sadness still drowns me. Suddenly all these thoughts fill my head against my will.
Somebody died because I didn’t take the case seriously. I can’t let it happen again.
All the time, I think about the things I could have done, all the signs, the warnings.
Venting to my therapist only made the thoughts of guilt so much worse.
Everyone says it’s not my fault... But it so clearly was. I FAILED in my first case. I told him he could trust me, and I failed him.
Maybe I can solve this, and all the guilt will fade.
You never know.
But at what cost? Marco is dead and always will be. Even if I solve a case that is exactly like his, it won’t change the past.
Running from it and passing it on isn’t an option. I know exactly what I’m dealing with, for the most part anyway.
Other than the fact that I don’t know how much effort it will take, I know I can save Nathaniel; it’s almost like God giving me a second chance.
The most I can do for him for now is to actually listen and recognize all the telltale signs of a pre-planned murder.
Hope is one of the many things that I’ll need to get through this and live to see the aftermath.
Everything that I stand for is at stake, just by this one case.
Running isn’t an option.
Then all the thoughts stop.
I won’t fail, Nathaniel Not like I failed Marco. Not like I failed him... My Husband…
Nathaniel
Home
1:14 am
I watch the screen, watching as I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and drink it. Watching as I open up a drawer and select a knife. Watching as I slice my hand open and make a mess, Watching as I look up at the camera, I stare at it for a moment before disappearing from view. I quickly stare at the live feed; there haven’t been any motion detection alerts again... Meaning he’s still in my house.
I tiptoe over to the door and stare down at the stairs, taking slow, deep breaths. Phone in hand, I manage to open up my Camera app and go straight to record.
I walk on the left side of the stairs, the side less known to creak loudly. I’m trying so hard not to drop the camera, but my hands are shaking so badly.
Halfway down the stairs now, just keep going.
~creak~
When I stop, my heart actually stops beating. Someone dashes across the bottom of the stairs. The cold fingers of fear, skeletal and merciless, wound tightly around my heart, each breath a struggle. I look down at my phone. I consider calling Officer Lopez but decide against it.
Something falls across the room. I stifle a yelp and take a big step back, but I slip and fall down the rest of the stairs.
“Sweet Mercy.” I whisper, quickly standing up and grabbing my phone off of the floor. I grab onto the banister and push myself up.
“Nathaniel?” I freeze, scanning my surroundings quickly. Who said that? I dare not respond to whoever it is.
I walk in the opposite direction the shadow figure ran from and into the kitchen, grabbing another knife, not the same one that was touched.
Re-adjusting my phone I get a better grip on the knife and quietly turn off the lights so I can’t be seen.
I slowly walk over to the front door, careful to stay away from the stairs and hallway, but still keeping a close eye out on the house around me.
Anonymous
1:20 am
Home, Hallway
I quickly dash across the room, but at the last second, I see that he is currently coming down the stairs, and my pulse begins to speed up as I hear a big boom and a sliding sound.
I hear him grunt and mutter something.
“Nathaniel?”
I cock my head to the side. Why did he just say his own name? For a second, I panic Does he know who I am?
Then again it came from all the way across the darn house. I see him tiptoe all the way to the kitchen, and I stand up, crouching by the front door behind the overfull coat rack. He comes back with a knife in hand, slowly and quietly walking towards the door.
He’s coming too close…way too close.
I take a deep breath and lunge at him, tackling him to the ground hard. He lets out a strangled cry, and I knock the second item out of his hand: his phone.
He yells loud and clear for anyone listening. “Shut up!” I hiss, slamming his head against the floor. He grabs onto the back of my hood and yanks it, yet I feel no pain.
He attempts to swing the knife, but I knock it clear out of his hand, sending it flying across the floor. He yells out again, yet he manages to buck his hips, and it throws me off for a moment, and he wraps his hands around my neck and rips the mask off of my face, and he freezes, “Jameson?”
I stare at him...
“No... Nathaniel...” I whisper, slamming his head back again. He swings his fist at my temple hard, once, twice, and on the third I’m knocked off of him. He grabs his phone and runs for the door. I quickly stand. He unlocks the door and tries to run out, but I yank on his shirt. He grabs onto the doorframe and attempts to run out again, but I slam the door dead on his hands, and he screams out.
He yells out again as I pull out my switchblade, holding it against his throat, “Shh...”
He leans in toward the blade, pressing deeper onto his neck, then slams his head back with such ferocity that I fall backwards, but not before dragging the knife across his chest.
This time he doesn’t scream but instead kicks me when I hit the ground with a thud. As he rushes for the door, I try to trip him, but he maintains his balance.
I CAN’T LET HIM GET AWAY!
NOT WHEN I’M SO DARN CLOSE.
I grab my face and stumble up, but it’s too late.
Nathaniel
1:26 am
Outside
A burning pain is searing across my chest and blood is gushing down my shirt as I run, I don’t know where I’m going but I just need to get out of here. My breathing is retched, and my vision blurry.
Soon my running slows, my heart is burning, my legs are screaming, and soon I’m laying facedown in the in-damp grass, in sort of a dazed, helpless state, the darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. The world around me blurs into shadow and sound—crickets, distant sirens, and the pounding of my own heart. I can feel the blood pooling beneath me, hot and thick, seeping into the damp earth. Every breath feels like a struggle, like I’m trying to breathe through a thick fog that clings to my lungs.
A cold, distant voice echoes in my mind—faint but persistent. It whispers a question I can't quite grasp:
“Will you survive what’s coming?”
And then, everything goes quiet. The darkness takes me.
CHAPTER THREE
Officer Lopez
8:56 a.m.
Home
The morning sun filters through the blinds of my modest apartment, casting warm golden hues across the cluttered space. I pour myself a cup of coffee, black and bitter—just how I like it—and stare out the window, mind racing. Last night’s case with Nathaniel has been haunting me non-stop. I can’t shake the feeling that something much darker is unfolding, something beyond what any report can capture.
My phone vibrates on the table, breaking my train of thought. I glance at the screen—an unknown number. Hesitating only briefly, I answer.
“Hola, this is Officer Rosa Lopez.”
Static, and breathing only for a moment before I hear “Officer…he’s hurt. Nathaniel—static—he’s outside—static—bleeding. He’s been stabbed… Please protect him.”
My heart skips a beat; I quickly grab my coat, grabbing my badge and gun “Stay on the line; I’m on my way.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t—just protect him.” Then whoever was on the line hangs up.
Now I know what kind of phone call it was, a spiritual one.
As I quickly go en route to Nathaniel’s house, in the back of my mind I hear the whisper of a voice I’ve heard before.
It’s faint, almost ghostlike —reminding me that the darkness is always closer than we think. That some things are better left buried, but I know better now. This case is my responsibility. And I will see it through even if it means risking everything.
Because in this game of shadows, I am not just a cop. I’m the last line of hope—and the first line of defense.
Anonymous
Nathaniels Home
9:00 a.m.
I stayed in the house. Afraid that if someone saw me running after Nathaniel, then the police would be on my tail any second. I sit on the couch, with Nathaniels phone in hand, and the Novel on my lap. I pull up his camera app, and rewatch the video that he recorded and then delete it.
Throwing the phone on the floor I open up the Novel from where he left off.
She spun around, expecting to find him standing on the stairs staring down at her with those sharp eyes, messy hair and sharp jawline, but no. Instead of anyone standing there she only felt an eerie cold breeze. “Nate?” She said out loud and regretted it. She had always hated the sound of her own echo, but this house seemed to sense that. Hearing her own voice call out to her Ex-Boyfriend made her scared. She quietly walked up the stairs but when she made it to the landing she stopped dead in her tracks.
A sickening smell erupted in her nose, it was a sickly sweet, odor mixed with something deadly that made her dizzy.
“Nathaniel?” She cried out, becoming more worried the closer she got to his door, the smell so bad it made her eyes water. With a shaking hand she reaches out to the doorknob of his bedroom, and give it a firm twist, screaming at what she saw inside.
Nathaniel…lying in a pool of his own blood, a small hole the size of her thumb on the side of his head, and a gun in his hand.
She backed away and ran outside, screaming and crying.
Police showed up, later its case was declared suicide. Nathaniel would be his own murderer.
I chuckle reading the last sentence out loud, technically it was true. I won’t have to touch him; he’ll do all the dirty work for me. He’ll run out of options, trustworthy people, and the best part is…he’ll run out of sanity. That being the-
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Three sharp bangs at the front door. I nearly jump out of my skin, standing up and dropping the book.
“WHO IS IT?” I yell, my voice cracking.
“Officer Lopez.” Comes the sharp reply. “Coming!” I yell back, quickly brushing myself down, and rushing over to the door, I open the door and give her the most Nathaniel like smile I can manage.
“Hey Officer, what’s the matter?” I ask, feigning confusion—she’s most likely here because of all that darned screaming and yelling Nathaniel did last night.
“I received a call that you were hurt, so I came to make sure you were okay.” She says, concern etched into her features.
“What? Everything’s fine I was just watching TV. Who called? I ask, monetarily scolding myself for not turning the TV on to make my alibi more useful.
“You were watching TV?” She cocks her head to the side giving me a weird look “What about the Novel?”
I open and close my mouth trying to find the words “What about it?” Crap—I can tell I shouldn’t have said that based off the face that she makes. She squints and places her hand o the base of her gun.
“What about it? Nathaniel is something wrong?” She takes a step forward, and her face pales slightly, as her eyes gloss over.
“I am just very stressed out, okay? I attempt to come off as scared, but instead it’s aggressive.
As I stand on the threshold of my house, trying to keep my composure, I can feel the weight of her gaze piercing through my façade. Officer Lopez's eyes narrow slightly, suspicion flickering in her expression. I know I need to stay calm, stay convincing—but inside, my mind is racing. Every word, every gesture could give me away.
“Look, Rosa,” I say, voice trembling just enough to sound genuine. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, what with everything that’s happening. That’s why I was watching TV. I didn’t mean to make you suspicious.” I give a nervous chuckle, trying to mask my growing panic.
She studies me for a long moment, her hand still close to her gun. I can see her weighing her options, maybe debating whether to push further or to step back. But I know the truth—she’s seen enough to know I’m hiding something. The way I stumbled over my words, the way my eyes flicked away from her—these are clues I can’t afford to ignore.
“Okay, Nate,” she says softly, voice gentle yet firm. “I’m going to need to take a look around. Just to make sure everything’s in order. You understand, right?” Her tone leaves no room for argument. She’s not here to accuse—yet—but her instincts are sharp, and I can’t let her catch me off guard.
“Of course,” I reply, forcing a nervous smile. “Go ahead. Just make it quick.”
~Crap~ I whisper to myself, letting her in and closing the door.
Officer Lopez
Nathaniels House: inside
9:05 am
I begin to drown in a horrible feeling of darkness as I pass by Nathaniel and into the house. I look over at the couch and see the Novel wide open, but the TV is off. I cock my head to the side, but say nothing about it.
I gingerly pick up the book, turning it over in my hands, then look back at Nathaniel. “You, okay?” I ask. “Y-yeah” he says. “I read through it some more and well…” He shrugs, walking over to me. He takes the book from my hands and turns it over to page 6. He points to a paragraph on the page that reads:
She spun around, expecting to find him standing on the stairs staring down at her with those sharp eyes, messy hair and sharp jawline, but no. Instead of anyone standing there she only felt an eerie cold breeze. “Nate?” She said out loud and regretted it. She had always hated the sound of her own echo, but this house seemed to sense that. Hearing her own voice call out to her Ex-Boyfriend made her scared. She quietly walked up the stairs but when she made it to the landing she stopped dead in her tracks.
A sickening smell erupted in her nose, it was a sickly sweet, odor mixed with something deadly that made her dizzy.
“Nathaniel?” She cried out, becoming more worried the closer she got to his door, the smell so bad it made her eyes water. With a shaking hand she reaches out to the doorknob of his bedroom, and give it a firm twist, screaming at what she saw inside.
Nathaniel…lying in a pool of his own blood, a small hole the size of her thumb on the side of his head, and a gun in his hand.
She backed away and ran outside, screaming and crying.
Police showed up, later its case was declared suicide. Nathaniel would be his own murderer.
I feel a chill run through me. “Now Nathaniel, I need you to come on down to the station, I need you to give a statement, and I’m taking the book as evidence.” I say tucking the book under my arm, my eye catches on a red stain on the floor, by the door. I decide to say nothing about it for now.
He shrugs “Sure. Let me, go get my jacket, and shoes.” He walks off, upstairs.
“I’ll be in the car!” I call out after him.
I walk back outside, leaving the door open. The breeze greets me and messes up my hair. I open up the door to my police car and sit inside, setting the book in the glovebox. Soon he’s walking out of the house and closing the door behind me.
Anonymous
Inside Officer Lopez’s Car
9:15 am
The moment the car pulls away, a wave of adrenaline crashes over me, quickly followed by the cold, hard grip of reality. Crap. That was TOO close. My heart is pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. I lean back against the headrest, taking deep, shaky breaths, trying to regain my composure without looking suspicious.
She’d seen the book. She’d seen the open page, the unsettling passage about Nathaniel’s supposed suicide. And she’d seen the bloodstain; she had said nothing about it, but I saw her eyes. I mentally curse myself for the slip-ups. It was a rookie mistake; one I can’t afford to make again.
But the most crucial piece is still with me—the knowledge of what the book held, of what Nathaniel was becoming. The prediction wasn’t just a story; it was a blueprint, a path he is walking towards, step by agonizing step. He is unraveling, just as I knew he would. The fear, the isolation, the paranoia—it is all working. He is losing his grip on reality, becoming exactly what the book is foretelling.
“You alright?” Lopez asks, looking over at me, her hands on the wheel. I nod and give her a small smile, reaching into my pocket and pulling out Nathaniel's phone.
This contains a treasure trove of information—contacts, search history, messages—everything that I’ll need to about his descent into madness.
Yet I remind myself of Officer Lopez; she is a complication. She is smart and persistent, and she has a gut feeling about this case. She won’t let it go, not easily. I have to be careful, anticipate her moves, and stay one step ahead. She has the book now, but I have the knowledge, the understanding of what is truly happening.
Yet there is one more player in the game, one more piece to move into place. Kayla. The book mentioned her, her visit, and the papers she found. Her reaction, her fear—it is all part of the plan. She is the final push Nathaniel needs, the person who would witness his complete breakdown, the one who would confirm his fate.
I need to ensure this part of the story plays out exactly how is was written.
I pick up Nathaniel’s phone again, scrolling through the contacts until I find Kayla’s name. My fingers hover over the call button. It is almost time to ensure that Nathaniel’s downfall, as written in the black book, becomes his reality.
The darkness in the car seems to deepen, wrapping around me like a familiar cloak. I am no longer an observer; I am the author, the architect of Nathaniel's downfall. And now… The final chapter is about to begin.
Officer Lopez
9:20 am
In the car, en route to the police station.
Nathaniel is acting strange. I look over at him; he gives me an almost shy smile. I return it, my lips feeling tight.
I turn onto a street where there are no houses for about a mile. “You nervous?” I ask, trying to stab the tension. “Yeah...very.” He mutters, putting the phone away and folding his hands, leaning his head back.
As I turn down a particularly narrow street, I see a strange lump in the grass. “Hey... do you see that?” I ask Nathaniel, slowing the car down and strapping out. I look over at him, nodding my head in the area. Once he sees where I’m looking, his face pales. “Oh sh—” “Hey!” I hiss at him, strapping out.
I pull the car over, and it becomes very clear that there is a body in the grass, male; he’s lying face down. “Stay here.” I say to Nathaniel, not looking back at him as I open my door, weapon drawn, and walk over.
Surrounding the man is a big pool of blood that I accidentally step in when I crouch down. I hear a car door slam, but I don’t turn around; this man is my number one priority.
I turn him over on his back, and I freeze all the air leaving my lungs.... I’m looking at Nathaniel
CHAPTER FOUR.
Officer Lopez
In field
9;25 am
I quickly spin around to look at the car, but ‘Nathaniel’ is gone. I quickly check his pulse… faint, but it’s something. I grab my radio, quickly stating my finding and requesting backup.
I raise Nathaniel's head, and his eyes open slightly, letting out a low moan. "I need you to wake up, Nate." I whisper, turning around to check behind me… nothing. He lets out another moan but doesn't wake up, and blood is streaming from—I'm not sure where. I cut the bloody shirt off of him and set it to the side; a long, deep gash goes across his chest.
I spin around; whoever was in the car with me wasn’t Nate. So now I have two options of what it could be. A low gurgling noise leaves his throat as I set his head back down.
“Nathaniel...please get up.” I hiss, pressing my hands to cover his wound, doing seemingly nothing.
He can’t die. For God’s sake, he can’t. Not now, not like this.
Time skips.
Nathaniel
Hospital ICU
11:27 P.M.
6 weeks later.
Voices, footsteps, sobbing, and a heart monitor beeping. I partially open my eyes and discover that I'm in a hospital room. I keep my eyes open, realizing how terrible the pain in my head and chest is.
I look around; the room is completely sterilized and almost empty.
The door opens and a young nurse comes in, and she gasps when she sees me. “Oh, Mr. Carterson—you're awake!” she exclaims, rushing over. I nod. I attempt to say something, but it comes out as raspy, so I try again “How long have I been here?” She picks up her clipboard, flipping through some pages. “43 days.”
She checks my vitals and re-does the bandages on my head. I have a severe concussion and 23 stitches across my chest. She tells me that I should go back to sleep while she calls Officer Lopez.
She also administers a painkiller that soothes me instantly. She closes the door and tells me to press the call button if I need anything.
My eyelids are starting to close. It won’t hurt to close my eyes for a moment. He can’t attack me here... Not publicly, anyways.
...
I open my eyes...all the lights are off. I turn my head to the side and see the silhouette of a man sitting in a chair. With a gasp, I quickly sit up. He extends his hand.
Calmly, he says, "Now, Nate, there's no need to be alarmed."
"W-wh-who are you?" I ask, trying to get a closer look at his face. He chuckles darkly “I’m you.”
I slowly reach for the remote that has the emergency call button on it, but he laughs. “Don’t touch it.” I set my hand down. “In fact,...give it to me.”
I hesitate only for a moment before setting it in his outstretched hand, quickly pulling away.
“Alright, what do you want?” I ask, trying to hush the growing fear.
“You see, Nate, Can I call you Nate? I will call you Nate. Let me ask you a question. Is that okay?” He asks.
“Is that a rhetorical question, or do you actually want an answer?” I hiss, biting out the words at him.
“It’s a real question...But you only have one answer.”
I nod... “Go ahead.”
He sits up, leans towards me, and I jump, yet he makes no move to engage with me. “What’s the oldest thing in your house?”
“I’m sorry?” Even though I’m in such a state, I can’t help myself from wanting to know, “Why does that matter to you?” I watch as he shrugs his shoulders. "Nate, just respond to the query."
"The Antique Mirror Belonging to My Mother." I say, edging closer to the edge of the bed, away from him.
“Correct.”
How would he know?
“Do you know the history of that mirror?” He states, pulling something out of his pocket, and I flinch.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why does that matter to you?” I spit, “You tried to kill me!”
He stands “Lower your voice.” He growls
“Or what?” I challenge, “Are you going to stab me to death? In a hospital full of people?” I regret the inconveniencing words as they leave my mouth, but who cares, right?
“Nate I could poison that IV drip in your arm,
“You tried to kill me!” I say again.
“No, Nate... I didn’t try to kill you. You did.” His voice switches to almost a loving tone, yet you know it's fake.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I am you. You are me. So, if I tried to kill you, it’ll be suicide.” I hear the smile in his voice.
“Jameson?” I ask.
“No, Nathaniel, my name is Leinahtan.” Another chuckle.
Chapter Five
Kayla
11;56
At Police Station
I’ve been sitting in this room for about six hours; for every one of those hours, I’ve been crying. Wrapping my arms around myself, I start to rock myself in the chair again. In front of me sits a cup of stale coffee that I haven’t drunk.
The door creaks open, and I jump up. A woman who appears to be in her 20s or 30s enters carrying some paperwork and another cup of coffee.
“Kayla, is that right?” She asks, a slight accent in her voice.
“Yeah.”
“Do you know why you’re here?” She inquires, taking a seat and gesturing for me to do the same, yet I stay in the same spot.
“What? No! Nobody told me anything; I’ve been left here!” I yell. “They won’t even let me call my boyfriend!” I yell angrily, tears welling in my eyes, but I blink them away.
“We have a very strong reason for that, Ms. Watherinen—” She starts
“Kayla,” I intervene.
She makes an agitated face but quickly recovers. “Nathaniel is in the hospital.” I feel all the blood rush from my face. “W-what?” I sit down. “W-what happened to him?” I ask, my hand shaking, as I start to fidget on the table.
“He was stabbed—”
The world stops spinning for a moment, a long moment, as I stare at her speechless. I shake my head. “W-when?”
She cocks her head at me “A few weeks ago.”
I pop up off my chair again “WEEKS?! WHY DIDN’T YOU GET ME SOONER?” I yell, pointing my finger at her, accusingly.
“Well, his phone was locked and I had to make— “
“That’s no excuse!”
“Please take a seat and let me finish talking, Kayla.” She says calmly. “I’m not sitting down.” I hiss, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. I can’t believe that he’s been there for that long.
“Okay, okay, I have a question for you.”
I give a nod.
“Have you got faith in spirits?”
What the devil does that have to do with anything? You people are awful, Jesus! How about you tell me about Nathaniel? I yell at her.
“Right.”
“I want to leave; I want to see Nate.” I demand. “Which hospital is he in?”
She straightens and sighs “I’m just doing my--”
“I said, what hospital is he in?” I growl yet again.
"Econstate... You can go, but don't leave the town. She offers me a hand, but I should shake it carefully.”
Nathaniel
ICU
12:00 AM
Leinahtan speaks again “I am the part of you that you’ve been running from. The part that’s been buried beneath the guilt, the rage, the fear. I am the reflection you refuse to face.”
My eyes dart around the room, searching for any possible escape. “What do you want from me?”
Leinahtan's head tilts. “What I want is simple. I want you to see. To understand. The truth about everything you’ve hidden. About your past. About the darkness that lurks inside your mind. About the darkness in your house. About yourself.
I grip the bedrail, my voice cracking. “You’re not real. This is just...some nightmare. I--”
“No,” Leinahtan interrupts his voice velvet and lethal “This is your reality, Nate. You’ve been denying it for too long. The attic, the book, the voices—they’re all part of me! Us! And I’m here to remind you that you can’t run from yourself forever.”
A cold sweat beads on my forehead as I realize my surroundings aren’t solid anymore—they ripple, distort, as if the room itself is melting. Shadows stretch across the ceiling , forming shapes that resemble twisted faces.
The anger in his voice increases “The book you found? It’s not just a story. It’s a warning. A blueprint. A Prophecy! Every step you take, every choice you make, is pushing you closer to the edge!”
“This isn’t real... It’s just my mind breaking. It’s the medication wearing off.” I mutter, shaking my head.
‘Oh, but it is real,” Leinahtan says, voice dripping to a whisper. “And soon you’ll see it. The darkness inside you—what you’ve buried beneath the pain, the trauma, the guilt—it's coming out. And there’s no escaping it. Not anymore.”
A sudden shattering noise echoes throughout the room—the glass of the hospital window splinters, falling inwards, revealing the night sky beyond, swirling with black clouds and flickering stars.
Leinahtan steps closer to me, his face inches from mine. “The only question is, will you survive what’s coming? Or will you become just another reflection in the mirror?”
“I-I can’t be like that?” I spit, even though I feel like crying.
Leinahtan’s smile widens, eyes gleaming. “Then face it. Face yourself. And maybe...just maybe, you’ll find the strength to break free.
Then he—he vanishes into the reflection of the broken glass. The world becomes a blur, just as I see a nurse enter the room with a panicked look on her face.
~~~
Officer Lopez
At Police station… in her office
12:30 am
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my tired eyes as I stare at the flickering screen of my computer. The night had stretched endlessly, and my mind is battered with images—Nathaniel’s haunted face, the cryptic pages of the Novel, and the spectral echoes that seemed to seep from every corner of his house.
I have been pouring over the contents of Nathaniel’s phone, inspecting every message, every search history, and every call.
My fingers hesitate over the keyboard, then I type again, comparing the text of the Novel with my notes. Every passage, every description, fit too perfectly with what I had seen unfolding in Nathaniel’s life. This book isn’t just a story—It's a blueprint. A curse. Perhaps a prophecy.
My eyes flicker to the clock. Almost 1:00 a.m. I know I should rest but the weight of the case is pressing heavily on my chest. Something darker is lurking beneath the surface of everything—something I can’t quite grasp, but I instinctively know it is real.
The fainstest whisper of a voice echoes behind me, and I jump.
“Your running out of time Rosa. The darkness is always closer than you think.”
I spin around, only seeing the full body mirror behind me, I place a hand over my heart.
I shiver, pulling my coat tighter around my shoulders. My gaze drifts back to the screen, where a new file had just popped up—an encrypted message I hadn’t noticed before, buried deep within Nathaniel’s search history.
Clicking on it, I brace myself for something bad, yet all I see is two words. “The Mirror.”
TIME SKIP
At home
11:56 am
“This is it.” Nathaniel say pointing to his Mother’s mirror. I nod staring at my reflection. “If you want Leinahtan to leave you alone forever you need to destroy the mirror. I walk behind the mirror “What’s this?” I ask gesturing him over.
“Oh—I don’t know just some silly poem, it was there since we got it.” He starts to read it.
We mimics travel far and wide,
Always wanting to see the other side.
Trapped is our life, slipping through the cracks
Hope and entertainment lack
Everyday we dream so hard, hoping our life won’t shatter to shards
Right when we think were close, they deal us out like a deck of cards
I think that someday we’ll all be free, swapping our lives as meant to be
Nobody knows we are real, even though to us they, talk, speak, and dream.
I continue on the poem without looking at it…I know it by heart.
Ever think such silly thoughts, the adults would cry at the hopes we brought
Never doubt who’s in the reflection, the hate you feel while doing chores. while you may hate your life—their dying to be in yours.
“How did you know that?” He asks, crossing his arms.
“My and my husband brought a mirror from a woman, who was looking for some extra cash. So, we brought it and it had the same exact poem on the from instead of the back.”
He nods. “So, is there a specific way to destroy it or…”
“I’m not sure—When I destroyed my mirror I had shot it.” I say, taking a picture of the poem, and sliding my phone into my pocket.
The Novel: His Future, Her Redemption, Their Failure, Reflection
Chapter One
10:42 pm
Home.
Nathaniel
Who invented attics? I need to go give them a personal talk too because I swear every time, I come up here, I feel eyes watching me. Eyes of spiders, eyes of ghosts, eyes of demons, eyes of the walls. I could truly go on forever.
I don’t remember why I’m up here; I wanted to look for something. I look around this dusty, creepy place full of invisible eyes and find a nice-looking box in the corner. By nice I mean it is colorful; everything else up here is sad-looking. I walk over to it and sit down on the cold floor. I have the box right next to me. "Is not this how people die in the horror movies?" I ask myself as I carefully open it. I ask out loud to whatever spirits are listening. The only reaction I get is a spider that descends from the ceiling and lands next to me. I open the box. A black book with a golden border that reads "Future" greets me.
The fact that there is only the title and no author or other information describing the story's subject matter bothers me. Considering how much dust has accumulated on the cover, it has likely been sitting here for years. I open the book and press my back closer to the wall. As a 26-year-old man, I still live with that saying in my mind.
I open the book, and my senses are assaulted by the all-time favorite dust that sends me into a sneezing fit for about a minute, yet the first words that I see are ‘He’s Watching.’
It’s the only thing written on the first page. It seems to be one of those books that starts off in a diary entry, so I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t intrigued.
He was sitting alone in the attic above his house. He personally hated it up there- —all the eyes watching him. His name was Nathaniel Carterson.
I stop and rub my eyes. No way.
Is this book about me? Because that’s my first and last name… Although Nathaniel is a common first name and Carterson is a fairly common last name, he is also in the attic at the same time as me. "The Eyes"...
I pick it back up, my heart now racing a mile a minute as I continue to skim through the pages.
He had mostly been alone for the majority of his life. His only friend was his older brother, Jameson, but ever since he ran away from home, Nathaniel never wanted to feel that betrayal again. He had always relied on his brother to support him, but cancer took their mother away with its vicious claws. Their father quickly turned to drinking; he couldn’t keep up with all the meetings with teachers. Nathaniel and Jameson were worried that CPS would come and take them away. Jameson couldn’t handle all the pressure and just ran. He ran and never came back.
Nathaniel had done his best to fake out his father's handwriting for any school letters. He slowly learned to live with it, but not without Jameson- —even in his adult years he never got over him. Over the thoughts of wondering if he was dead, alive, hurt, or even in the same state anymore. Sometimes he felt angry.
But this is not the time to dwell over his childhood life- —right now I’m here to write about what’s coming. It's coming quickly.
A killer is lurking, and Nathaniel is his only victim. The person that he trusts more than anyone in the whole universe will be the one to take his life.
The writing just stops right there, but now I could care less- —I can’t breathe. Someone has my full name- —someone wants to kill me. I look around as if someone would charge at me from behind that tall wall mirror. I’m in a vulnerable position, so if someone came at me, I’d die right here in this corner. My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest. I try to stand, but my legs are shaking so badly that I stumble.
I’ve never told anybody anything about my father- —I haven’t even told my girlfriend of four years. Kayla. It’s not that I don’t trust her—I completely trust her with my life; it’s just that I find it super hard to open up about things from the past. Especially about my mother. Bless her heart.
I leave the book right where it’s at, open on the floor, afraid to bring it with me or even close it. I rush down the stairs and close the stairs up as soon as I’m done.
It’s very quiet. Too quiet… It feels as if someone is watching me. Being in my own house feels very suffocating. I can’t stay here- —I can’t breathe. I run towards the door, not even bothering to put shoes on as I struggle to get a clear grasp on the doorknob. I throw open the door and run outside, listening to the slam of it behind me.
11:00 pm.
Outside; Porch
Nathaniel
I turn around as the door closes, half expecting to see a murderer at my throat brandishing a knife. right at my throat. I only see the yellow paint peeling, though. I put a soothing hand over my racing heart and feel the thump, thump, thump beneath my fingers.
Once my heart has settled into a reasonable pace, I walk off of the porch and onto the street, leaning against my car. Slowly I begin to piece together everything that happened in the last 15-20 minutes. I went up into the attic. I came upon an old book without an author for some reason.
Somehow, I came upon an old book with no author. The book detailed the childhood trauma I experienced (information that only three people would be aware of), and then it revealed that I would be the victim of a murder. Rethinking about it makes my heart speed up once more, but I force myself to stay calm. I can’t freak out. It could just be a joke from Kayla.
I do not think Kayla would ever treat me in such a cruel way, but is that not what people say about people? Although it seems like Kayla would never treat me cruelly, is that not what people say about people? I take another deep breath to calm myself.
I feel around my pockets for my phone and realize that I don’t have it on me. Actually, all I am wearing is a tight black leather jacket that smells like sandalwood and long pants.
"Well, what comes next?" The only response I get when I ask the stars is the loud chirping of crickets in the night. Until daylight returns, I will not be returning to that house. That much is certain. I have seen enough dumb people in horror films who just give up and do not care, and if life is a movie like that, I will not be the first to die in it in the most predictable way. I will sleep in my freaking car-
It feels like a kick in the gut when I also discover that my car keys are still in the house. Regardless, I will not be going back to that house tonight. “Looks like I’m sleeping on the porch tonight.” I suggest gazing up at the stars once more. This is what I usually do—I suppose it is how I communicate with God. Sometimes I just wish he would reply.
I slide onto the ground and lean against my Chevy, and slowly but surely my eyes begin to get heavy, and finally I go to sleep.
Anonymous
I watch him run out of his house, slamming the door behind him. He appears terrified. Naturally, he ought to be. He doesn’t sense me watching him, and even if he does, he doesn’t show it. I cross my arms across my chest as I lean in closer, trying to hear what he’s saying. He’s talking to himself, apparently- —I forgot he does that. It’s been a while since I’ve been around him. But growing up, even after Mom died, is when he started doing it, always thinking that she would reply. Sad, because she never did.
He sits by his car, burying his face in his hands- —he must be stressed out by now. Honestly, I would too. Poor Nathy… I watched him for a few more hours, and to even my surprise, he fell asleep- —outside.
Another thing I’d never expected him to do, as a kid all he would think about were the dangers of the outside. So, him doing this now kind of seems strange, but I guess the things we do in fear, huh? Once I know for sure that he’s asleep, I walk out of my hiding spot in the woods, stretching my arms and back.
I’m going to be red all over by tomorrow, but I needed to do this tonight. I gingerly walk up to his car—careful to not even breathe the wrong way— as I scribble a note on a piece of paper that I brought with me (that has been crumpled into a ball way too many times by now) and scribble a note for him. He’ll see it in the morning. Nathaniel was always a smart kid; he’ll know what it means. Once I tape it to his car and walk back into the woods without anyone seeing me— I already took care of all the security cameras a few weeks ago- —and even if someone did end up seeing me, Nathy’s going to have a hard time explaining this one. Normally he has a pretty good reason for the things that he does—like how he promised he’d clean the attic today…
You should always watch your surroundings Nathy~
In addition, the attic still needs to be cleaned; you had better get to it.
Outside
8:16 A.M.
Nathaniel
I wake up to a severe pain in my neck, and lifting it feels horribly painful. I grab the back of my neck and rub it for a minute, confusion washing over me. As I slowly remember that I am outside on the ground, “I need to take a shower,” I murmur out loud to whoever’s listening. Hopefully no one is, though. The thought of it gives me memories of last night. I look up at the house—even though it’s daylight, I still don’t want to go back into that house, but everything that I need is inside.
I steel myself and stand up, my back feeling like it’s one hundred years old. I stretch for a moment, mostly trying to waste time, before going inside.
“Come on, man up.” I growl to myself, running up the stairs to my porch. I place my hand on it. If something just feels wrong, I am out of here, to heck with this place. I looked for my phone; I think I had it on the coffee table. Or was it on my bed? I slowly and very quietly walk up the stairs to my bedroom. In case someone is in here, I’m taking extra precautions so as not to alert them of my presence. Taking the steps by two, I cling to the banister and wince whenever the floor creaks under my weight.
Once I make it to the landing, I’m tensing up to run back down the stairs. My bedroom door is open… I swear on all that is holy that I had it closed. I pause my walking—now, would it be smart to go in there? No, it’s not- —but why am I walking again?
I walk into the room; my phone sits untouched on the bed, face down. Clothing all over the floor, the curtains drawn tightly. I unzip my jacket and toss it on the bed. Now I’m feeling the urge to go into that attic and finish reading the book, just to know what happens. It’s the only thing consuming my thoughts for the entire time that I’m sitting on the bed staring at this peeling patch of paint.
I do not realize it until I am standing right above the book, staring at it, when my feet suddenly drag me into the attic.
As if I’m not in control of my own body, I lean down and pick it up. I left it on the same page, and it remains there. Unaffected. The weight of the book feels heavy in my hands as I drop to my knees and pick it up. I stare down at it, reading the same words over and over again until my eyes hurt. After a long while I turn the page, finally having enough courage to do so.
Nathaniel would soon find out who his killer is, but in the most unexpected way, could he find out who it is? Could he stop it? Or will he just succumb to the darkness that is surrounding him quickly? I turn the page.
Kayla would come over to his house, on the 5th of May 2025. They had broken up a few days before and she wanted to talk to him about it. Plus, he left his jacket at her place and she needed to return it.
She had called multiple times before showing up to his house, all nervous and sweaty. Her hands shook as she knocked on his door. Once, twice, three times had she knocked but she had gotten no reply. It wasn’t really a surprise but it had still hurt. She tried the door handle, and too her utmost surprise it was unlocked!
She turned the handle and quietly poked her head in “Nathaniel? It’s Kayla you left your jacket.” She had called out into the deathly silent house. His car was in the parking lot so he must be home…She thought. She stepped into the house, calling out his name again—something truly didn’t feel right “Nathaniel? I’m coming in, okay?”. She closed the door behind her. She looked around for a moment. She heard nothing. As if afraid of disturbing the silence she tip-toed around the living room finding no Nathaniel. What she did find disturbed her. Papers. All over the walls, all over the table, all over the floors, everywhere.
Kayla picked up the one that had a picture of her face on it, red writing scribbled under her smiling face. It spoke of how she couldn’t be trusted, she was too quiet, smiling to often, “She’s working with someone to KILL ME. SHE CAN’T BE TRUSTED. NO ONE CAN BE TRUSTED. “She felt her heart shatter. Nathaniel had changed so badly. She set the paper down, not wanting to read about his downfall even farther.
~creak~
She spun around, expecting to find him standing on the stairs staring down at her with those sharp eyes, messy hair and sharp jawline, but no. Instead of anyone standing there she only felt an eerie cold breeze. “Nate?” She said out loud and regretted it. She had always hated the sound of her own echo, but this house seemed to sense that. Hearing her own voice call out to her Ex-Boyfriend made her scared. She quietly walked up the stairs but when she made it to the landing she stopped dead in her tracks.
I stop reading for a moment. I just heard something. I spin around and look at the attic door. I know I am up here alone but it feels like I’m being watched. This is bad. Someone wrote about my murder. I hold the book to my chest and beat it down the stairs. I make sure I have my phone and keys with me before I slam the door behind me and rush to my car and start driving.
Police Station
9:46 A.M.
Nathaniel
I’m at my destination before I know it. My heart is racing so fast right now. I grab my door handle and open the door. I step out into the open air and stand outside of my car for a while. In fact, it’s such a long while that a police officer walks up to me.
“Excuse me, sir? Do you need something?” She asks me with a slight accent in her voice; she must be from Mexico. I stare at her for a moment before shrugging, “Yeah…I do.” I say my voice low, as my thoughts start to drift again. She offers me a warm smile that matches her brown eyes and darker brown hair—but it’s forced. “What do you need, sir?” I look at the ground, then look back up at her. “I don’t know.” I say. I don’t know how to explain this to someone.
Now she’s confused. “Alright, sir, Care to tell me your name?”
“Nathaniel Carterson,” I murmur.
She nods. “Care to come inside?”
I stare at her for a moment. It’s very small in there, and I’m feeling claustrophobic right now. I shake my head. “No.” She shrugs and nods “Care to explain why?”
“No.”
“Okay…” I consider going back home but quickly dismiss it. I open the car door and grab the book. Holding it against my chest, I lean back against the car again and consider calling Kayla, but I don’t want to worry her.
By the time the officer returns, I am sitting on the concrete. “Okay, Nathaniel, I am Rosita Lopez. Why did you come here today?” She asks, looking down at me for a moment before taking a seat on the ground facing me.
“I-I…found something in my attic last night.” I say, placing the book on the ground in between us. Looking down at the book, she pulls out a notepad and asks, "This is what you found?" I give a nod. “It was in a box, and it had no author for it, so I read it, and… it said things.” For some reason my tongue is just stuck to the roof of my mouth when I try to explain what I read.
She nods “What did it say?” I look at her. Unable to reply, noticing this, she grabs the book “Can I read through it?” She asks never opening it. I nod and shrug at the same time. “Yeah…”
“But?”
“I’m about to die…” I say.
She sits up straighter “How so?” I nod my head towards the book. I watched her turn the first page and read through them; her brows furrowed in concentration. I watch her read through the pages. She doesn’t read the whole thing but I choose a comfortable place to stop.
“When did you find this?” the sweet smile, and rosy cheeks disappear—replaced with a very serious, concerned, and stern look.
“Like I said, yesterday…It was sitting in a box in my attic.”
“How long had it been there?”
“I don’t know?”
“You don’t know how long it’s been in your attic?”
I stare at her… “Officer I normally stay away from places that don’t hold worth to me. Nothing that I need is in the attic therefore it is pointless for me to go up there. So, no I don’t know how long it was in my attic.” I say my tone laced with venom and fear.
“…Right. Do you know anyone who might have a personal vendetta against you?”
“No. I’m a low life.”
“Have you let anyone into your house as of late?” She asks, still looking down at the book and jotting something on her notepad. “What do you mean by recent?” I ask.
“Past two weeks.” She says, finally looking up at me.
“Only my girlfriend, Kayla.” I dare say. “But she was always downstairs with me.” I add quickly, shaking my head.
“What’s her last name?”
“Watherinen; W-a-t-h-e-r-i-n-e-n.” I say Kayla had told me she hated it because it was hard to spell and pronounce. She wrote it down as I spelled it for her. I looked up at the group of birds flying overhead. My back hurts. She stays seated on the ground, her features etched with concentration, while I get up and look around, feeling momentarily almost dazed by the sun's rays. up, looking around, feeling almost dazed for a moment as the sun beats down on my face; she remains seated on the ground, concentration etched onto her features.
“Now Nathaniel-” She starts but I cut her off “Nate… Please call me Nate.” She nods “Nate… I’m not saying that it is, but do you think this could be a joke?” I shake my head. “Nobody comes into my house like that except me and Kayla, and she doesn’t even know I have an attic, plus she’s not even in town right now.” I say looking down at her.
She nods “Where is she?”
“Texas—she’s visiting her parents.” She looks at the book again. “You got any other close friends?” She eyes me warily and I feel my hands start to sweat, which is weird…I shouldn’t be nervous, I’ve literally done nothing wrong. “No, It’s just us.”
“So, who’s Jameson?” She asks pointing to his name on the page. I hesitate, “Why does it matter?” She cocks her head to the side “Because, if this is real then I would like to know the people of interest. Unless you have something to hide from me.” Her look is challenging me.
“No, I don’t have anything to hide…I just- He was my brother.” I say, with a simple shrug, tugging my jacket tighter around me.
“Was?”
“He ran away when we were younger, I’ve never seen him since. Which is why I don’t think he’s important. Haven’t seen him in over a decade.”
She nods and writes something down on her legal pad. “Do you have anything else for me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you found anything else in your home that is like this?”
“Well, no…I wasn’t really looking for something to find, but uh, no.” I rock back on my heels, hands in my pockets with my thumbs sticking out.
“If I’m going to be honest with you…I’m not sure what to make of this. It seems as though someone has this extremely planned. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She says, finally standing at eye level with me. I inhale sharply. “What do I do?”
She looks around for a moment grabbing the, straps of her bulletproof vest. “Since we don’t have any real solid evidence, and you don’t have any enemies to be on the lookout for, I would say you get a security system and keep a very close on it. If you notice anything out of place. You take note of it, and call me.” She begins to write something on paper, then hands it to me. “Here.”
I take it it’s her phone number. “But what about the book?” I ask, pointing to it from where it lies on the ground; it could easily be mistaken for a journal. “You can just keep it. Tomorrow, I’ll copy it so I can also see what you’re looking’ at.”
I nod, keeping up with the quick words and hand gestures. I tuck the paper into my pocket and then cross my arms over my chest.
Soon after I leave the police station, I head out to the Home Depot to buy security cameras. I haven’t decided how many I wanted to get but I suppose I will be getting one f or each room in the house…Not sure about the bathroom though. As I’m walking around, I happen to take notice of a hooded man being in certain isles as me, never really picking up anything, just following me around.
“Get lost” I murmur, placing the last camera into my cart, before going over to find some nails. He takes his phone out of his pocket and stares at it for a moment…I take that opportunity to continue walking before he decides to follow.
Anonymous
HOME
12:40 a.m.
I stare up at the security camera that Nathaniel put up about a few hours ago; he did a really good job, if I do say so myself. I cock my head to the side and stare at it almost as if confused. Right now, he is upstairs sleeping…after about three hours of trying he finally managed to catch some shut eye.
I walk away into the kitchen; I’m thirsty. He’s a really clean guy, I will admit that. I open up the fridge and pull a water bottle out, taking long, thirsty gulps.
Man, I hate the summer.
I open up a kitchen drawer and stare at the assortment of knifes. “Which one of you is the sharpest?” I ask, sliding my fingers through the blades.
“You are.” I murmur, picking up a long and sharp butcher knife and setting the bottle of water onto the counter. I slide my gloved index finger along the sharp line of the blade wincing as it cuts the palm of my hand. Blood begins to pour, but I quickly wipe it off on the hem of my shirt, but it continues relentlessly. “Crap-” I whisper, my heart pounding; I am currently leaving a ton of evidence behind. The loudest sound I have ever heard occurs when the knife slips out of my hand and clangs against the counter before hitting the ground. I try to put it down.
His movements are audible, and I do not have enough time to rush back outside. I have to go hide-
CHAPTER TWO
Nathaniel
12:56 am
Home
I sit erect. What was that? I turned to see what kind of sound it was—metal hitting something. With my hand already shaking, I grab my phone and move to the edge of my bed.
Before I open the door, I remember I don’t necessarily have to go downstairs; I just put up cameras, and they are connected to my phone.
I quickly head back to my bedside table, where I switch on my camera and see all of the Motion Detected alerts. Fear starts to seep into my veins, causing my pulse to quicken. My finger hesitates over the option for the camera. I click it, and the first thing makes my heart actually slow, and I fill with confusion.
Why do I see...myself?
Officer Lopez
Home
1:00 am
Rosa Lopez.
I haven’t drunk the whiskey that has been sitting in front of me for about an hour. After meeting with Nathaniel today, I’ve been plagued with nightmares of my very first case as a rookie, and boy has it haunted me.
I pick up the glass and stare at the brown-gold liquid, swishing it around. I set it back down on the table, sighing.
I know I won’t be able to go back to sleep, so I get up to go grab the past police reports. I read them over and over again. Nathaniel's case and this one are starting to look so familiar in all ways.
I whisper into my dark home, “Dios, por favor sálvame de volver a fallarle a alguien.” (God, please save me from failing someone again.)
I know he won’t reply...but it doesn’t stop me from hoping.
I stand up filled with vigor, and yet sadness still drowns me. Suddenly all these thoughts fill my head against my will.
Somebody died because I didn’t take the case seriously. I can’t let it happen again.
All the time, I think about the things I could have done, all the signs, the warnings.
Venting to my therapist only made the thoughts of guilt so much worse.
Everyone says it’s not my fault... But it so clearly was. I FAILED in my first case. I told him he could trust me, and I failed him.
Maybe I can solve this, and all the guilt will fade.
You never know.
But at what cost? Marco is dead and always will be. Even if I solve a case that is exactly like his, it won’t change the past.
Running from it and passing it on isn’t an option. I know exactly what I’m dealing with, for the most part anyway.
Other than the fact that I don’t know how much effort it will take, I know I can save Nathaniel; it’s almost like God giving me a second chance.
The most I can do for him for now is to actually listen and recognize all the telltale signs of a pre-planned murder.
Hope is one of the many things that I’ll need to get through this and live to see the aftermath.
Everything that I stand for is at stake, just by this one case.
Running isn’t an option.
Then all the thoughts stop.
I won’t fail, Nathaniel Not like I failed Marco. Not like I failed him... My Husband…
Nathaniel
Home
1:14 am
I watch the screen, watching as I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and drink it. Watching as I open up a drawer and select a knife. Watching as I slice my hand open and make a mess, Watching as I look up at the camera, I stare at it for a moment before disappearing from view. I quickly stare at the live feed; there haven’t been any motion detection alerts again... Meaning he’s still in my house.
I tiptoe over to the door and stare down at the stairs, taking slow, deep breaths. Phone in hand, I manage to open up my Camera app and go straight to record.
I walk on the left side of the stairs, the side less known to creak loudly. I’m trying so hard not to drop the camera, but my hands are shaking so badly.
Halfway down the stairs now, just keep going.
~creak~
When I stop, my heart actually stops beating. Someone dashes across the bottom of the stairs. The cold fingers of fear, skeletal and merciless, wound tightly around my heart, each breath a struggle. I look down at my phone. I consider calling Officer Lopez but decide against it.
Something falls across the room. I stifle a yelp and take a big step back, but I slip and fall down the rest of the stairs.
“Sweet Mercy.” I whisper, quickly standing up and grabbing my phone off of the floor. I grab onto the banister and push myself up.
“Nathaniel?” I freeze, scanning my surroundings quickly. Who said that? I dare not respond to whoever it is.
I walk in the opposite direction the shadow figure ran from and into the kitchen, grabbing another knife, not the same one that was touched.
Re-adjusting my phone I get a better grip on the knife and quietly turn off the lights so I can’t be seen.
I slowly walk over to the front door, careful to stay away from the stairs and hallway, but still keeping a close eye out on the house around me.
Anonymous
1:20 am
Home, Hallway
I quickly dash across the room, but at the last second, I see that he is currently coming down the stairs, and my pulse begins to speed up as I hear a big boom and a sliding sound.
I hear him grunt and mutter something.
“Nathaniel?”
I cock my head to the side. Why did he just say his own name? For a second, I panic Does he know who I am?
Then again it came from all the way across the darn house. I see him tiptoe all the way to the kitchen, and I stand up, crouching by the front door behind the overfull coat rack. He comes back with a knife in hand, slowly and quietly walking towards the door.
He’s coming too close…way too close.
I take a deep breath and lunge at him, tackling him to the ground hard. He lets out a strangled cry, and I knock the second item out of his hand: his phone.
He yells loud and clear for anyone listening. “Shut up!” I hiss, slamming his head against the floor. He grabs onto the back of my hood and yanks it, yet I feel no pain.
He attempts to swing the knife, but I knock it clear out of his hand, sending it flying across the floor. He yells out again, yet he manages to buck his hips, and it throws me off for a moment, and he wraps his hands around my neck and rips the mask off of my face, and he freezes, “Jameson?”
I stare at him...
“No... Nathaniel...” I whisper, slamming his head back again. He swings his fist at my temple hard, once, twice, and on the third I’m knocked off of him. He grabs his phone and runs for the door. I quickly stand. He unlocks the door and tries to run out, but I yank on his shirt. He grabs onto the doorframe and attempts to run out again, but I slam the door dead on his hands, and he screams out.
He yells out again as I pull out my switchblade, holding it against his throat, “Shh...”
He leans in toward the blade, pressing deeper onto his neck, then slams his head back with such ferocity that I fall backwards, but not before dragging the knife across his chest.
This time he doesn’t scream but instead kicks me when I hit the ground with a thud. As he rushes for the door, I try to trip him, but he maintains his balance.
I CAN’T LET HIM GET AWAY!
NOT WHEN I’M SO DARN CLOSE.
I grab my face and stumble up, but it’s too late.
Nathaniel
1:26 am
Outside
A burning pain is searing across my chest and blood is gushing down my shirt as I run, I don’t know where I’m going but I just need to get out of here. My breathing is retched, and my vision blurry.
Soon my running slows, my heart is burning, my legs are screaming, and soon I’m laying facedown in the in-damp grass, in sort of a dazed, helpless state, the darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. The world around me blurs into shadow and sound—crickets, distant sirens, and the pounding of my own heart. I can feel the blood pooling beneath me, hot and thick, seeping into the damp earth. Every breath feels like a struggle, like I’m trying to breathe through a thick fog that clings to my lungs.
A cold, distant voice echoes in my mind—faint but persistent. It whispers a question I can't quite grasp:
“Will you survive what’s coming?”
And then, everything goes quiet. The darkness takes me.
CHAPTER THREE
Officer Lopez
8:56 a.m.
Home
The morning sun filters through the blinds of my modest apartment, casting warm golden hues across the cluttered space. I pour myself a cup of coffee, black and bitter—just how I like it—and stare out the window, mind racing. Last night’s case with Nathaniel has been haunting me non-stop. I can’t shake the feeling that something much darker is unfolding, something beyond what any report can capture.
My phone vibrates on the table, breaking my train of thought. I glance at the screen—an unknown number. Hesitating only briefly, I answer.
“Hola, this is Officer Rosa Lopez.”
Static, and breathing only for a moment before I hear “Officer…he’s hurt. Nathaniel—static—he’s outside—static—bleeding. He’s been stabbed… Please protect him.”
My heart skips a beat; I quickly grab my coat, grabbing my badge and gun “Stay on the line; I’m on my way.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t—just protect him.” Then whoever was on the line hangs up.
Now I know what kind of phone call it was, a spiritual one.
As I quickly go en route to Nathaniel’s house, in the back of my mind I hear the whisper of a voice I’ve heard before.
It’s faint, almost ghostlike —reminding me that the darkness is always closer than we think. That some things are better left buried, but I know better now. This case is my responsibility. And I will see it through even if it means risking everything.
Because in this game of shadows, I am not just a cop. I’m the last line of hope—and the first line of defense.
Anonymous
Nathaniels Home
9:00 a.m.
I stayed in the house. Afraid that if someone saw me running after Nathaniel, then the police would be on my tail any second. I sit on the couch, with Nathaniels phone in hand, and the Novel on my lap. I pull up his camera app, and rewatch the video that he recorded and then delete it.
Throwing the phone on the floor I open up the Novel from where he left off.
She spun around, expecting to find him standing on the stairs staring down at her with those sharp eyes, messy hair and sharp jawline, but no. Instead of anyone standing there she only felt an eerie cold breeze. “Nate?” She said out loud and regretted it. She had always hated the sound of her own echo, but this house seemed to sense that. Hearing her own voice call out to her Ex-Boyfriend made her scared. She quietly walked up the stairs but when she made it to the landing she stopped dead in her tracks.
A sickening smell erupted in her nose, it was a sickly sweet, odor mixed with something deadly that made her dizzy.
“Nathaniel?” She cried out, becoming more worried the closer she got to his door, the smell so bad it made her eyes water. With a shaking hand she reaches out to the doorknob of his bedroom, and give it a firm twist, screaming at what she saw inside.
Nathaniel…lying in a pool of his own blood, a small hole the size of her thumb on the side of his head, and a gun in his hand.
She backed away and ran outside, screaming and crying.
Police showed up, later its case was declared suicide. Nathaniel would be his own murderer.
I chuckle reading the last sentence out loud, technically it was true. I won’t have to touch him; he’ll do all the dirty work for me. He’ll run out of options, trustworthy people, and the best part is…he’ll run out of sanity. That being the-
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Three sharp bangs at the front door. I nearly jump out of my skin, standing up and dropping the book.
“WHO IS IT?” I yell, my voice cracking.
“Officer Lopez.” Comes the sharp reply. “Coming!” I yell back, quickly brushing myself down, and rushing over to the door, I open the door and give her the most Nathaniel like smile I can manage.
“Hey Officer, what’s the matter?” I ask, feigning confusion—she’s most likely here because of all that darned screaming and yelling Nathaniel did last night.
“I received a call that you were hurt, so I came to make sure you were okay.” She says, concern etched into her features.
“What? Everything’s fine I was just watching TV. Who called? I ask, monetarily scolding myself for not turning the TV on to make my alibi more useful.
“You were watching TV?” She cocks her head to the side giving me a weird look “What about the Novel?”
I open and close my mouth trying to find the words “What about it?” Crap—I can tell I shouldn’t have said that based off the face that she makes. She squints and places her hand o the base of her gun.
“What about it? Nathaniel is something wrong?” She takes a step forward, and her face pales slightly, as her eyes gloss over.
“I am just very stressed out, okay? I attempt to come off as scared, but instead it’s aggressive.
As I stand on the threshold of my house, trying to keep my composure, I can feel the weight of her gaze piercing through my façade. Officer Lopez's eyes narrow slightly, suspicion flickering in her expression. I know I need to stay calm, stay convincing—but inside, my mind is racing. Every word, every gesture could give me away.
“Look, Rosa,” I say, voice trembling just enough to sound genuine. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, what with everything that’s happening. That’s why I was watching TV. I didn’t mean to make you suspicious.” I give a nervous chuckle, trying to mask my growing panic.
She studies me for a long moment, her hand still close to her gun. I can see her weighing her options, maybe debating whether to push further or to step back. But I know the truth—she’s seen enough to know I’m hiding something. The way I stumbled over my words, the way my eyes flicked away from her—these are clues I can’t afford to ignore.
“Okay, Nate,” she says softly, voice gentle yet firm. “I’m going to need to take a look around. Just to make sure everything’s in order. You understand, right?” Her tone leaves no room for argument. She’s not here to accuse—yet—but her instincts are sharp, and I can’t let her catch me off guard.
“Of course,” I reply, forcing a nervous smile. “Go ahead. Just make it quick.”
~Crap~ I whisper to myself, letting her in and closing the door.
Officer Lopez
Nathaniels House: inside
9:05 am
I begin to drown in a horrible feeling of darkness as I pass by Nathaniel and into the house. I look over at the couch and see the Novel wide open, but the TV is off. I cock my head to the side, but say nothing about it.
I gingerly pick up the book, turning it over in my hands, then look back at Nathaniel. “You, okay?” I ask. “Y-yeah” he says. “I read through it some more and well…” He shrugs, walking over to me. He takes the book from my hands and turns it over to page 6. He points to a paragraph on the page that reads:
She spun around, expecting to find him standing on the stairs staring down at her with those sharp eyes, messy hair and sharp jawline, but no. Instead of anyone standing there she only felt an eerie cold breeze. “Nate?” She said out loud and regretted it. She had always hated the sound of her own echo, but this house seemed to sense that. Hearing her own voice call out to her Ex-Boyfriend made her scared. She quietly walked up the stairs but when she made it to the landing she stopped dead in her tracks.
A sickening smell erupted in her nose, it was a sickly sweet, odor mixed with something deadly that made her dizzy.
“Nathaniel?” She cried out, becoming more worried the closer she got to his door, the smell so bad it made her eyes water. With a shaking hand she reaches out to the doorknob of his bedroom, and give it a firm twist, screaming at what she saw inside.
Nathaniel…lying in a pool of his own blood, a small hole the size of her thumb on the side of his head, and a gun in his hand.
She backed away and ran outside, screaming and crying.
Police showed up, later its case was declared suicide. Nathaniel would be his own murderer.
I feel a chill run through me. “Now Nathaniel, I need you to come on down to the station, I need you to give a statement, and I’m taking the book as evidence.” I say tucking the book under my arm, my eye catches on a red stain on the floor, by the door. I decide to say nothing about it for now.
He shrugs “Sure. Let me, go get my jacket, and shoes.” He walks off, upstairs.
“I’ll be in the car!” I call out after him.
I walk back outside, leaving the door open. The breeze greets me and messes up my hair. I open up the door to my police car and sit inside, setting the book in the glovebox. Soon he’s walking out of the house and closing the door behind me.
Anonymous
Inside Officer Lopez’s Car
9:15 am
The moment the car pulls away, a wave of adrenaline crashes over me, quickly followed by the cold, hard grip of reality. Crap. That was TOO close. My heart is pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. I lean back against the headrest, taking deep, shaky breaths, trying to regain my composure without looking suspicious.
She’d seen the book. She’d seen the open page, the unsettling passage about Nathaniel’s supposed suicide. And she’d seen the bloodstain; she had said nothing about it, but I saw her eyes. I mentally curse myself for the slip-ups. It was a rookie mistake; one I can’t afford to make again.
But the most crucial piece is still with me—the knowledge of what the book held, of what Nathaniel was becoming. The prediction wasn’t just a story; it was a blueprint, a path he is walking towards, step by agonizing step. He is unraveling, just as I knew he would. The fear, the isolation, the paranoia—it is all working. He is losing his grip on reality, becoming exactly what the book is foretelling.
“You alright?” Lopez asks, looking over at me, her hands on the wheel. I nod and give her a small smile, reaching into my pocket and pulling out Nathaniel's phone.
This contains a treasure trove of information—contacts, search history, messages—everything that I’ll need to about his descent into madness.
Yet I remind myself of Officer Lopez; she is a complication. She is smart and persistent, and she has a gut feeling about this case. She won’t let it go, not easily. I have to be careful, anticipate her moves, and stay one step ahead. She has the book now, but I have the knowledge, the understanding of what is truly happening.
Yet there is one more player in the game, one more piece to move into place. Kayla. The book mentioned her, her visit, and the papers she found. Her reaction, her fear—it is all part of the plan. She is the final push Nathaniel needs, the person who would witness his complete breakdown, the one who would confirm his fate.
I need to ensure this part of the story plays out exactly how is was written.
I pick up Nathaniel’s phone again, scrolling through the contacts until I find Kayla’s name. My fingers hover over the call button. It is almost time to ensure that Nathaniel’s downfall, as written in the black book, becomes his reality.
The darkness in the car seems to deepen, wrapping around me like a familiar cloak. I am no longer an observer; I am the author, the architect of Nathaniel's downfall. And now… The final chapter is about to begin.
Officer Lopez
9:20 am
In the car, en route to the police station.
Nathaniel is acting strange. I look over at him; he gives me an almost shy smile. I return it, my lips feeling tight.
I turn onto a street where there are no houses for about a mile. “You nervous?” I ask, trying to stab the tension. “Yeah...very.” He mutters, putting the phone away and folding his hands, leaning his head back.
As I turn down a particularly narrow street, I see a strange lump in the grass. “Hey... do you see that?” I ask Nathaniel, slowing the car down and strapping out. I look over at him, nodding my head in the area. Once he sees where I’m looking, his face pales. “Oh sh—” “Hey!” I hiss at him, strapping out.
I pull the car over, and it becomes very clear that there is a body in the grass, male; he’s lying face down. “Stay here.” I say to Nathaniel, not looking back at him as I open my door, weapon drawn, and walk over.
Surrounding the man is a big pool of blood that I accidentally step in when I crouch down. I hear a car door slam, but I don’t turn around; this man is my number one priority.
I turn him over on his back, and I freeze all the air leaving my lungs.... I’m looking at Nathaniel
CHAPTER FOUR.
Officer Lopez
In field
9;25 am
I quickly spin around to look at the car, but ‘Nathaniel’ is gone. I quickly check his pulse… faint, but it’s something. I grab my radio, quickly stating my finding and requesting backup.
I raise Nathaniel's head, and his eyes open slightly, letting out a low moan. "I need you to wake up, Nate." I whisper, turning around to check behind me… nothing. He lets out another moan but doesn't wake up, and blood is streaming from—I'm not sure where. I cut the bloody shirt off of him and set it to the side; a long, deep gash goes across his chest.
I spin around; whoever was in the car with me wasn’t Nate. So now I have two options of what it could be. A low gurgling noise leaves his throat as I set his head back down.
“Nathaniel...please get up.” I hiss, pressing my hands to cover his wound, doing seemingly nothing.
He can’t die. For God’s sake, he can’t. Not now, not like this.
Time skips.
Nathaniel
Hospital ICU
11:27 P.M.
6 weeks later.
Voices, footsteps, sobbing, and a heart monitor beeping. I partially open my eyes and discover that I'm in a hospital room. I keep my eyes open, realizing how terrible the pain in my head and chest is.
I look around; the room is completely sterilized and almost empty.
The door opens and a young nurse comes in, and she gasps when she sees me. “Oh, Mr. Carterson—you're awake!” she exclaims, rushing over. I nod. I attempt to say something, but it comes out as raspy, so I try again “How long have I been here?” She picks up her clipboard, flipping through some pages. “43 days.”
She checks my vitals and re-does the bandages on my head. I have a severe concussion and 23 stitches across my chest. She tells me that I should go back to sleep while she calls Officer Lopez.
She also administers a painkiller that soothes me instantly. She closes the door and tells me to press the call button if I need anything.
My eyelids are starting to close. It won’t hurt to close my eyes for a moment. He can’t attack me here... Not publicly, anyways.
...
I open my eyes...all the lights are off. I turn my head to the side and see the silhouette of a man sitting in a chair. With a gasp, I quickly sit up. He extends his hand.
Calmly, he says, "Now, Nate, there's no need to be alarmed."
"W-wh-who are you?" I ask, trying to get a closer look at his face. He chuckles darkly “I’m you.”
I slowly reach for the remote that has the emergency call button on it, but he laughs. “Don’t touch it.” I set my hand down. “In fact,...give it to me.”
I hesitate only for a moment before setting it in his outstretched hand, quickly pulling away.
“Alright, what do you want?” I ask, trying to hush the growing fear.
“You see, Nate, Can I call you Nate? I will call you Nate. Let me ask you a question. Is that okay?” He asks.
“Is that a rhetorical question, or do you actually want an answer?” I hiss, biting out the words at him.
“It’s a real question...But you only have one answer.”
I nod... “Go ahead.”
He sits up, leans towards me, and I jump, yet he makes no move to engage with me. “What’s the oldest thing in your house?”
“I’m sorry?” Even though I’m in such a state, I can’t help myself from wanting to know, “Why does that matter to you?” I watch as he shrugs his shoulders. "Nate, just respond to the query."
"The Antique Mirror Belonging to My Mother." I say, edging closer to the edge of the bed, away from him.
“Correct.”
How would he know?
“Do you know the history of that mirror?” He states, pulling something out of his pocket, and I flinch.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why does that matter to you?” I spit, “You tried to kill me!”
He stands “Lower your voice.” He growls
“Or what?” I challenge, “Are you going to stab me to death? In a hospital full of people?” I regret the inconveniencing words as they leave my mouth, but who cares, right?
“Nate I could poison that IV drip in your arm,
“You tried to kill me!” I say again.
“No, Nate... I didn’t try to kill you. You did.” His voice switches to almost a loving tone, yet you know it's fake.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I am you. You are me. So, if I tried to kill you, it’ll be suicide.” I hear the smile in his voice.
“Jameson?” I ask.
“No, Nathaniel, my name is Leinahtan.” Another chuckle.
Chapter Five
Kayla
11;56
At Police Station
I’ve been sitting in this room for about six hours; for every one of those hours, I’ve been crying. Wrapping my arms around myself, I start to rock myself in the chair again. In front of me sits a cup of stale coffee that I haven’t drunk.
The door creaks open, and I jump up. A woman who appears to be in her 20s or 30s enters carrying some paperwork and another cup of coffee.
“Kayla, is that right?” She asks, a slight accent in her voice.
“Yeah.”
“Do you know why you’re here?” She inquires, taking a seat and gesturing for me to do the same, yet I stay in the same spot.
“What? No! Nobody told me anything; I’ve been left here!” I yell. “They won’t even let me call my boyfriend!” I yell angrily, tears welling in my eyes, but I blink them away.
“We have a very strong reason for that, Ms. Watherinen—” She starts
“Kayla,” I intervene.
She makes an agitated face but quickly recovers. “Nathaniel is in the hospital.” I feel all the blood rush from my face. “W-what?” I sit down. “W-what happened to him?” I ask, my hand shaking, as I start to fidget on the table.
“He was stabbed—”
The world stops spinning for a moment, a long moment, as I stare at her speechless. I shake my head. “W-when?”
She cocks her head at me “A few weeks ago.”
I pop up off my chair again “WEEKS?! WHY DIDN’T YOU GET ME SOONER?” I yell, pointing my finger at her, accusingly.
“Well, his phone was locked and I had to make— “
“That’s no excuse!”
“Please take a seat and let me finish talking, Kayla.” She says calmly. “I’m not sitting down.” I hiss, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. I can’t believe that he’s been there for that long.
“Okay, okay, I have a question for you.”
I give a nod.
“Have you got faith in spirits?”
What the devil does that have to do with anything? You people are awful, Jesus! How about you tell me about Nathaniel? I yell at her.
“Right.”
“I want to leave; I want to see Nate.” I demand. “Which hospital is he in?”
She straightens and sighs “I’m just doing my--”
“I said, what hospital is he in?” I growl yet again.
"Econstate... You can go, but don't leave the town. She offers me a hand, but I should shake it carefully.”
Nathaniel
ICU
12:00 AM
Leinahtan speaks again “I am the part of you that you’ve been running from. The part that’s been buried beneath the guilt, the rage, the fear. I am the reflection you refuse to face.”
My eyes dart around the room, searching for any possible escape. “What do you want from me?”
Leinahtan's head tilts. “What I want is simple. I want you to see. To understand. The truth about everything you’ve hidden. About your past. About the darkness that lurks inside your mind. About the darkness in your house. About yourself.
I grip the bedrail, my voice cracking. “You’re not real. This is just...some nightmare. I--”
“No,” Leinahtan interrupts his voice velvet and lethal “This is your reality, Nate. You’ve been denying it for too long. The attic, the book, the voices—they’re all part of me! Us! And I’m here to remind you that you can’t run from yourself forever.”
A cold sweat beads on my forehead as I realize my surroundings aren’t solid anymore—they ripple, distort, as if the room itself is melting. Shadows stretch across the ceiling , forming shapes that resemble twisted faces.
The anger in his voice increases “The book you found? It’s not just a story. It’s a warning. A blueprint. A Prophecy! Every step you take, every choice you make, is pushing you closer to the edge!”
“This isn’t real... It’s just my mind breaking. It’s the medication wearing off.” I mutter, shaking my head.
‘Oh, but it is real,” Leinahtan says, voice dripping to a whisper. “And soon you’ll see it. The darkness inside you—what you’ve buried beneath the pain, the trauma, the guilt—it's coming out. And there’s no escaping it. Not anymore.”
A sudden shattering noise echoes throughout the room—the glass of the hospital window splinters, falling inwards, revealing the night sky beyond, swirling with black clouds and flickering stars.
Leinahtan steps closer to me, his face inches from mine. “The only question is, will you survive what’s coming? Or will you become just another reflection in the mirror?”
“I-I can’t be like that?” I spit, even though I feel like crying.
Leinahtan’s smile widens, eyes gleaming. “Then face it. Face yourself. And maybe...just maybe, you’ll find the strength to break free.
Then he—he vanishes into the reflection of the broken glass. The world becomes a blur, just as I see a nurse enter the room with a panicked look on her face.
~~~
Officer Lopez
At Police station… in her office
12:30 am
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my tired eyes as I stare at the flickering screen of my computer. The night had stretched endlessly, and my mind is battered with images—Nathaniel’s haunted face, the cryptic pages of the Novel, and the spectral echoes that seemed to seep from every corner of his house.
I have been pouring over the contents of Nathaniel’s phone, inspecting every message, every search history, and every call.
My fingers hesitate over the keyboard, then I type again, comparing the text of the Novel with my notes. Every passage, every description, fit too perfectly with what I had seen unfolding in Nathaniel’s life. This book isn’t just a story—It's a blueprint. A curse. Perhaps a prophecy.
My eyes flicker to the clock. Almost 1:00 a.m. I know I should rest but the weight of the case is pressing heavily on my chest. Something darker is lurking beneath the surface of everything—something I can’t quite grasp, but I instinctively know it is real.
The fainstest whisper of a voice echoes behind me, and I jump.
“Your running out of time Rosa. The darkness is always closer than you think.”
I spin around, only seeing the full body mirror behind me, I place a hand over my heart.
I shiver, pulling my coat tighter around my shoulders. My gaze drifts back to the screen, where a new file had just popped up—an encrypted message I hadn’t noticed before, buried deep within Nathaniel’s search history.
Clicking on it, I brace myself for something bad, yet all I see is two words. “The Mirror.”
TIME SKIP
At home
11:56 am
“This is it.” Nathaniel say pointing to his Mother’s mirror. I nod staring at my reflection. “If you want Leinahtan to leave you alone forever you need to destroy the mirror. I walk behind the mirror “What’s this?” I ask gesturing him over.
“Oh—I don’t know just some silly poem, it was there since we got it.” He starts to read it.
We mimics travel far and wide,
Always wanting to see the other side.
Trapped is our life, slipping through the cracks
Hope and entertainment lack
Everyday we dream so hard, hoping our life won’t shatter to shards
Right when we think were close, they deal us out like a deck of cards
I think that someday we’ll all be free, swapping our lives as meant to be
Nobody knows we are real, even though to us they, talk, speak, and dream.
I continue on the poem without looking at it…I know it by heart.
Ever think such silly thoughts, the adults would cry at the hopes we brought
Never doubt who’s in the reflection, the hate you feel while doing chores. while you may hate your life—their dying to be in yours.
“How did you know that?” He asks, crossing his arms.
“My and my husband brought a mirror from a woman, who was looking for some extra cash. So, we brought it and it had the same exact poem on the from instead of the back.”
He nods. “So, is there a specific way to destroy it or…”
“I’m not sure—When I destroyed my mirror I had shot it.” I say, taking a picture of the poem, and sliding my phone into my pocket.
