The cold, rust-tinged female whisper slithered into Emma's skull like a venomous snake, coiling around her consciousness ... Finally ... found you ... Terror gripped her heart, freezing her breath and limbs. Her trembling hands clutched her ears uselessly, her scream ricocheting in the empty office before neon hum swallowed it whole.
"Emma? Emma! Is that you? What's happening?" Josh fro, IT burtst down the corridor, laptop in hand, curly hair wild with concern. "Holy hell! Why are you still here - in that?" He skidded to a stop, gaping at her ashen face and wild eyes. "Are you okay? Saw a mouse? Or - " He forced a joke, voice tight, "Ghosted?"
Josh's presence pierced Emma's frozen terror like a spotlight. She gasped raggedly, emerald eyes wide. "Nothing." Her voice rasped. SHe dropped her hands, fingers still trembling. "The lights outside - flashed too much. I just ... startled." She gestured at the window, desperate for believability.
Josh squinted outside. Neon rivers still pulsed. "Lights? Maybe an ad glitch?" He scratched his head, unconvinced but nothing her frayed state. "You look awful. Let me get you a cab."
Emma didn't refuse. She needed escape. She grabbed the coat off the back of the chair in a fluster, wrapping it tightly around herself - as if that thin piece of fabric could fend off the shapeless chill.
As they approached the elevator, Emma glanced back at her window-side desk and Luca's closed office door. Had that voice and warped light been a hallucination from stress? But it felt ... tool real, too cold. And that "found you" line ... Who was looking? For what?
"Emma?" Josh pressed the elevator button, watching her hollow expression.
"Coming." Emma inhaled sharply, forcing herself into the cold metal box. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes as it descended. Lingering in her mind weren't just the weird whisper, but Lucas's final indifferenct "Go home and sleep", and that featherlight, almost imperceptible "... Don't be afraid."
The next morning, Emma staggered into the office with panda - like shadows under her eyes, feeling like she was walking on cotton. A throbbing hangover, residual terror, and less than three hours of sleep left her steps unsteady. The stubborn coffee stain on her sleeve now seemed a permanent badge of her disheveled state. She deliberately avoided her window-side desk, still sensing an ominous residue from last night's neon glow.
"Wow, Brooks, did you wrestle the pitch into submission all night?" Smantha sauntered over with a coffee cup, her electric-blue pixie cut perky, but her face paled at Emma's appearance. "Girl, you look like a vampire just drained your soul!"
Emma managed a tired smile, too drained to explain the night's bizarre encounter. "Close enough. The ... pitch isn't done yet." Her voice was hoarse.
"Deadline's at ten, hon!" Smantha checked her watch, patting Emma's shoulder. "Need a triple espresso to survive?"
Emma shook her head, stomach churning at the smell of coffee.
8:50 AM. Emma sat frozen at her desk, the document on her screen still blank.