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Sarah stumbled out of the mental asylum, her face pale, her breaths sharp and uneven.
Mr. Daniel's words replayed in her mind like a broken record:
> "If your mother's right… whatever attacked her might be after you."
Her body trembled. This can't be happening.
"This can't be happening, this can't be happening," she whispered over and over, pacing the sidewalk as her fingers tugged at her sleeves.
Adrian followed quietly, his eyes filled with worry. He didn't know whether to touch her or give her space—but watching her crumble hurt too much.
He stepped closer, cupping her cheeks gently.
"Stop thinking too much," he said softly. "It's going to hurt you. Everything's going to be fine."
But Sarah pushed him away, her voice breaking. "Everything is not fine! It never gets fine! My mom was attacked! She could've died! Oh no… what am I going to do? Who do I tell? Who—"
Her words tangled into sobs.
Adrian stayed there, silent, letting her breathe. After a moment, he tried again, his tone careful.
"What if… tomorrow, you go see your mom? Maybe she saw something, or someone. Maybe she didn't want to tell the police yet. Maybe she was waiting for you."
Sarah shook her head, wiping her tears. "No. I just—I need to be alone."
She turned and ran upstairs, the floorboards creaking beneath her. Adrian sighed, watching her door close softly.
Just then, three tiny voices shouted behind him—his younger sisters, fresh from school, hugging him tightly.
"Adri!" they giggled. "We missed you!"
He smiled weakly, trying to hide his worry as he carried them off to bed, whispering bedtime stories that couldn't stop his thoughts from circling back to Sarah.
By the time he tucked them in, the sky had darkened.
The clock ticked past 9:00 p.m. when his father finally came home. Adrian turned to greet him, but stopped. His father's face looked pale—haunted.
"Dad?" Adrian asked. "Are you okay?"
Mr. Wade didn't answer immediately. His eyes darted toward the door as if something might still be following him.
"Sit down, Adrian," he said, his voice trembling.
Adrian obeyed, unease crawling down his spine.
"I was… attacked today," his father whispered.
"Attacked?" Adrian frowned. "You mean, like, a robbery or something?"
Mr. Wade shook his head. "No. It wasn't—normal."
He swallowed hard. "I was walking through the hallway near the bridge, and there was someone behind me. At first, I thought it was just a man—long coat, big hat—but when I looked back, he stopped. And when I looked again… he was closer."
Adrian's stomach dropped.
"He tried to grab me," his father continued, his voice cracking. "I fell. But when I looked up… I saw his face—or what I think was a face."
He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "It was covered in rough fabric. I thought it was a mask… but it wasn't. It was stitched. The threads were black and thick, pulling the corners of his mouth into a crooked smile. I swear, Adrian, it looked like straw sticking out of his collar."
Adrian froze. His chest tightened. "Dad… that sounds like—"
"I don't know what it was," Mr. Wade interrupted quickly, his breath unsteady. "It was about to kill me. But someone shouted nearby, and when I turned back—he was gone. Vanished."
Adrian tried to keep calm. "You should tell the police."
"I did," his father said quietly. "But what do I tell them? That a… stitched man made of straw tried to kill me?" He gave a broken laugh. "They'd think I've lost my mind."
Adrian looked at him—really looked. His father's hands were trembling, and fear still flickered in his eyes.
This wasn't a story. It was real.
After a long silence, Mr. Wade said softly, "Maybe he mistook me for someone else."
He forced a weak smile. "Don't worry, son. I'm fine."
But Adrian didn't believe him.
He stood slowly, heart pounding, and went upstairs.
When he reached Sarah's door, he hesitated for a second—then knocked lightly.
No answer.
He opened the door gently. Sarah sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly out the window.
Without a word, Adrian crossed the room and hugged her from behind.
She didn't resist.
She just whispered, " Something coming for us, Adrian. I can feel it but I just don't know what "
Adrian's voice trembled as he answered, "I think it's already has."
Outside, in the silence of the street, a faint rustle echoed—like straw brushing against the wind.
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